1) The narrator describes spending late nights alone researching human psychology and fear online, which began to take a psychological toll and influence his disturbing dreams. 2) One night, he comes across a brief article about voices in the ringing sound one hears in quiet places, which he dismisses. However, that night he has a dream with the same ringing and a feeling of being watched by multiple presences. 3) Upon waking from the dream, the narrator hears the same high-pitched ringing sound from his dream, reminding him of the unusual feeling of being watched by multiple entities in the dream, unlike his usual dreams of being stalked by a single presence.

1. PARANOIA
By Ben Gregory
It was 2 AM. I sat in my desk chair, leaning forward towards the bright computer
screen, the only thing producing light in the entire house. Everything was very very quiet, the
only noise that could be heard was the gentle hum and whir of the computer’s fan and hard
drive. It seemed as if the entire world around me was asleep. I, alone in my house, which I
was the only resident of, sat, reading up on haunting subjects such as insanity and the
uncanny valley.
This was not an unusual state for me at the time, during that period of my life I
worked only a part time job and ate out at fast food for almost every meal. In short, I was an
unhealthy man. Thinking back on it, I was completely aware of this fact and I recognized I
was in a sad, sad state. Spending my free time doing nothing but using the internet to
educate myself on the inner workings of the human mind, psychology, the essence of
human fear. This wouldn’t have been such a negative thing if it didn’t make me ignore all of
my other obligations and responsibilities that I now had as an independent adult.
I had somehow become obsessed with the psychology of human fear. What
created fear, the different kinds of fear. As you can probably imagine, sitting in a dark quiet
room late at night reading about the mechanics of terror was of course terrifying itself. But
for some reason I think that’s probably the reason I enjoyed it so. As a child I had always
loved being creeped out, being scared. But at that time I hadn’t discovered the power of
true, deep, dangerous, psychological fear. The kind that makes you doubt what’s real and
what isn’t, and makes you reconsider how you view the natural, everyday world.
But as an adult, as I spent countless nocturnal hours reading endless studies and
articles on the internet, I became more and more aware of this fear, as it slowly infused
itself into me.
During this time of my life I never frightened myself to the point that I wanted to stop.
I found that a good way to measure how spooked I had actually become in comparison to
previous nights was to evaluate the morbidity and darkness of the dreams I would have
following my late night research sessions. This was possible because I would have dreams
almost every night, dreams I could remember very well. It always helped that I wrote them
down as soon as I woke up to keep myself from forgetting them instantly and so I could look
back and compare them to past dreams.
Now that I think of it, I rarely had dreams that I didn’t consider nightmares, and even
more rarely did I have dreams that could be considered in any way happy or at least
positive. Depressingly, these dreams reflected my life in that it was lonely, dark,
depressing and loveless. But somehow, I was content with the state of my life and to be
honest, isn’t that all that matters?
But, one fateful night, all of this changed. My life took a twist. As I sat in my small,

2. dark, musty office, hunched over my computer, searching the internet for something that
would terrify me, I found it. I don’t quite remember how I found it but I remember the layout of
the page. It was completely blank except for the title of the article and one small paragraph
of text. The title read “Voices”. I had read about people hearing voices and subjects such
as schizophrenia many times in the past, so I almost ignored the page and kept browsing.
But something about the simplicity of the page and the title, and the apparent briefness of
the article kept me intrigued. I began to read. It read as this.
“You know that ringing sound that you will perceive when you are in a very quiet
area? Some people say this is an auditory­illusion brought about the ear’s inability to
detect frequencies below the threshold of the human senses. This is completely wrong.
That ringing covers up something else altogether. If you are quick, patient, and maybe a
little lucky, you will be able to hear past the ringing. What you will hear are voices
whispering to each other. They will silence themselves quickly but with practice, you will
become more adept at catching and interpreting what they are saying. You will hear things
of the past, the present, and the future. However, you must be careful. Because there is no
such thing as a voice without a body. And when you start noticing them, they will start
noticing you.”
At the time, this did nothing but make me scoff, it didn’t frighten me at all. It was
obviously fake. I enjoyed it though, it was well written and well thought out but it was obvious
to me that it wasn’t true and I didn’t give it a second thought. I looked at my watch and saw
that it was nearly 4 AM. I had work that started in four hours so I decided it was in my best
interest to go to bed.
The dream I had that night was similar to the others. They all usually had the same
general idea, something dark, malevolent, and mysterious was trying to reach me, to hurt
me and I had to get away. This wasn’t the case 100% of the time but I think it’d be safe to
say that that was the concept about 3 out of 5 times. The dream usually took place at my
house that I lived in at the time, or at the house that I grew up in. On some occasions that
weren’t necessarily uncommon they would take place where I worked, a bookstore a
couple of blocks from my house, I was a cashier there. (It was the only social interaction I
ever got.)
But this night my dream was slightly different. I was in a school, not one that I
recognized from anywhere, so I assume I just made it up. The setting though was not the
most different element. What was was that the entire dream, I could hear nothing but a
ringing sound, just like the one mentioned in the “Voices” article I had read prior to falling
asleep. The events of the dream as I remember were the usual, I was being stalked by
something dangerous, something insidious. But at one point I woke up. This surprised me
because I never woke up in the midst of a dream.
I sat there frozen staring straight up at my ceiling. I recalled my dream but as I did I

3. could feel it slipping away and I remembered my tradition of writing them down. I shook
myself out of my frozen state, turned on my bedside light and sat up so I could retrieve my
dream book from under my pillow. I flipped it open to the newest clean piece of paper,
dated it and began to write, explaining the setting, the fact the I woke up, and a couple of
other minor details. Once I had finished writing and turned off my light I felt as if I had
forgotten something, something significant. I sat in my cold dark room in the middle of the
night and pondered this for what felt like hours, but what was probably only a few minutes.
Finally I remembered, the ringing sound. I was about to write it into my log when I was
overwhelmed by the sudden sensation of the ringing sound itself. It was loud and very high
pitched. It made me wince and grab my head.
Hearing the sound made me remember another sensation I had had during my
dream that I had neglected to write down. It was a sensation I had never felt in any dreams
prior to this one. In all dreams leading up to this one, the presence that seemed to be
watching me, stalking me, had only been that. One singular presence. But in this dream I
had gotten the feeling that there were more, multiple entities. I had felt as if I was being
watched from all sides. I sat thinking about the new differences in my dream for a few
minutes, not even taking into consideration the article I had been reading before I went to
bed. I looked at my watch. It was 6:30. Work started in an hour and a half. I glanced out my
window to see that the very first light of the sun was leaking over the horizon. I decided it
wasn’t worth it to try to go back to sleep. I got out of bed, trying to forget the odd dream and
began to get ready for my job.
If I had to choose one person that I considered anything close to a friend it would
have to be my co worker, Sarah. She worked next to me at the front desk where the
customers come up to pay for the books. The bookstore was small but it was big enough
that it had to have two cashiers, me and Sarah. The reason I considered her a friend is that
she was the only person I had any conversation with on a close to daily basis. I was never
the one to initiate the conversation. She would start it every time and it would only last a
couple of minutes because I would give unconstructive and “conversation­terminating”
responses to her questions. I think she tried to make conversation with me because she
just felt sorry for me and concerned. I wouldn’t blame her. If I could look back and see
myself then I would too. I must’ve always looked like a homeless person. Dirty, disheveled,
unorganized, and sleepless. I was also not very in shape. I wouldn’t say obese but I was far
from fit.
This day in particular I could sense she was more concerned about me than usual. I
could feel her stare as I stood there staring at the cash register in front of me. I’d seen the
look a thousand times from her, her concerned look, and I could picture it as I avoided
making eye contact with her. Finally she addressed me directly.
“Chris,” she said it in her quiet, soothing, and worried voice.

4. “Yeah,” I said as I finally looked up and made eye contact with her. My eyes locked
on her deep blue eyes, in their typical worried state. She was a very attractive woman. In
addition to her blue eyes she had long, gleaming, blonde hair. I knew then that she was
attractive but I had no desire to do anything about it because obviously she would never
spend time with me or anyone like me, but also I had never had the desire to be with a
woman romantically. I had no desire to be with anyone romantically. I think I was just scared
of any type of relationship.
“Did you get any sleep last night? You don’t look very good.” She asked this
question a lot. She was aware of my nocturnal habits.
“I think I got about two and a half hours.” I replied.
“Chris, that’s the least you’ve gotten in a long time..”
“I know...” I was trying to avoid the subject. She wanted to know the reason. But I
knew she would coax it out of me, she always did.
“Why is that?” She persisted.
“I woke up early.” I was being difficult and I knew it, but I really didn’t like
conversation. She sighed and continued her gentle interrogation of me.
“Why?”
I paused for a few moments before I answered.
“I had a dream.”
“Well don’t you have dreams every­­”
“Well this one was different.” I interrupted her and my voice raised a little. I was
getting irritated. I didn’t know why, she was only trying to help.
She was taken aback by my sudden but slight hostility. I usually didn’t talk very loud
at all and I was never directly rude like that. She seemed confused, but not frightened. She
waited a couple of seconds then spoke again.
“And how? How was it different?”
At this point she started to seem like a therapist. I don’t know why but it irritated me
that she was asking me all these questions. I felt like they were my business and she didn’t
need to know any of it. But then, before I got too angry, I reminded myself that she was
trying to help, and that maybe she could if I gave her the chance.
“Well... I felt like I was being watched...” I started, I looked up at her. She was looking
very intently at me with those deep blue eyes, waiting for me to continue. I could tell she
really cared, that she was really worried about me. I looked back down and continued “But I
was in a.. a school I think. That’s never been the setting before. Also, I wasn’t being
watched by just one thing. There were more of them... but they somehow seemed less
threatening individually, but as a whole, more threatening than what I had been feeling in my
dreams before.” I looked up at her for reaction. She had the same expression.
“Chris,” she said “I think you need some help. My brother in law is a therapist just
outside the city, I think he can­­”

5. “NO!” I yelled. I interrupted her again and immediately regretted it. She was such a
nice woman. I had yelled so loud that it probably could’ve been heard throughout the entire
bookstore. But luckily it was early and there were no customers yet. I didn’t know what was
happening to me. I thought it was probably just my lack of sleep recently.
Sarah seemed taken aback once more. She finally gave up trying to help me and
looked back down at her desk. I felt awful. What had gotten into me? She was right. There’s
definitely something wrong with me. I thought back on the past week and asked myself how
much sleep I had gotten. I was too tired to get an exact result and just settled with “not
enough”. I then promised myself that I needed to start getting more sleep. But little did I
know, that would be a big mistake.
When my shift ended that day I walked to the coffee shop across the street. I hardly
ever drank coffee but I thought it make wake me up, get me thinking a little straighter. I felt
like I was literally losing my mind. As I was crossing the street I was looking directly ahead
of me into the large crowd of people that you typically see milling along the sidewalks in
New York.
But all the sudden an awful sensation washed over me and I heard the ringing sound
from my dream. I completely disregarded the fact that I was in the middle of the street and
froze. After a couple of seconds I began to hear faint whispers in my head mixed in with the
constant ringing sound. All outside sound was blocked out until a felt a heavy hand grip my
shoulder. I completely regained my senses and the ringing sound went away. I turned
around to see a middle­aged looking black man with his hand on my shoulder, staring at
me with a very worried but urgent look on his face.
“Hey buddy,” he said “you’re blocking traffic you’d better move.”
I quickly apologized, then looked down at my feet, rather embarrassed, and swiftly
walked across the street, all the while trying to forget what I had just heard. I thought in the
back of my mind that I was going insane, but I was trying to avoid accepting it. I was telling
myself I just needed more sleep.
I walked into the coffee shop, hoping no one in there had seen me cause an
episode in the middle of the street. I got odd stares from nearly everyone in there so I
assumed they had seen it. I dealt with the embarrassment and walked up to the cashier to
buy a coffee. I got it straight. Just black coffee. I needed something to wake me up and I
figured that would do the trick. I didn’t consider once that infusing my body with caffeine
would only make my condition worse.
As I sat there in the coffee shop, slowly sipping away at my nasty, bitter, steaming
cup of caffeine, I only hoped that when I got home, I would fall asleep quickly and wake up
to feel better. Unfortunately though, that was only a hope.
I arrived home after taking a taxi (I couldn’t afford a car). It was 7:30, I had eaten
dinner at a McDonald’s I visited very regularly as I had neither the patience nor the skill to

6. prepare food for myself. I decided, because I was very worried about myself, that I should
try to get to sleep, even though I hadn’t fallen asleep any earlier than midnight in years.
I entered my bedroom and got a chill, it reminded me of the experience I had had
that morning. But I brushed it off and got into bed. I lay there, feeling very unnatural and very
un­tired. My body had no urge to fall asleep but I desperately wanted to. Minutes turned into
hours as I lay there with my eyes closed. After what I could only guess to be two hours
something chilling began to happen. The ringing noise began again in my head. It started
faintly at first, then rose until it was deafening. I lay there, eyes clenched, palms sweaty,
breathing fast and shallow, panicking, knowing there was nothing I could do about it. Then
the whispers started. This time they were much louder. I still couldn’t make out what they
were saying but they were definitely louder.
I thought I could wait it out, and to my great relief I was right. After a few minutes it
ended, not abruptly but slowly, as it started.
I don’t quite remember what happened after that. I remember waking up the next
morning feeling well rested, and not remembering having a single dream. I got out of bed
feeling very optimistic, well at least more than usual. I felt well­rested for the first time in
months and I was ready to go to work and apologize to Sarah for yelling at her the previous
day.
For the first time I got out of bed quickly. I walked into my bathroom, turned on the
shower and got in. As I stood beneath the warm water and let it consume my body, I felt a
very unnerving feeling. I had the feeling someone was standing on the other side of the
shower curtain. I paused in the scrubbing of my torso and turned towards the curtain. I
waited for a few seconds trying to listen,but all potential noise from the other side was
drowned out by the sound of the water. Slowly, I reached for the edge of the curtain and
peeled it back to reveal the rest of my bathroom. It was empty. I pulled it back and chuckled
feeling ridiculous. But my intense, deep, and heavy feeling of paranoia didn’t go away. For
the rest of the shower I had the eerie feeling that someone was standing just on the other
side of the curtain.
Once I finished my shower, I stepped out, grabbed a towel and dried myself off. As I
did so, I looked at myself in the mirror. I immediately looked away. Looking in the mirror
gave me the intense irrational fear that in my reflection, something would appear behind
me. I began to worry. I had never been this paranoid before. Then I shook it off and told
myself that at least it was better than what had been happening yesterday.
I opened the door of my bathroom with a towel tied around my waist and turned right
to walk down the hall and into my room so I could get dressed for work. But as soon as I
turned right I froze and my heart sunk. I felt nauseous. The ringing sound commenced in my
head, louder than ever. The whispers this time were very loud. But the most mortifying part
was that there was a man standing at the end of my hallway, only ten or eleven feet away

7. from me, right in front of my doorway. This was no ordinary man though. He was completely
black. The best I can describe it was just the silhouette of a man. It rippled in a strange sort
of way. The silhouette though was not perfect . It morphed and fluxated. Darkness itself
seemed to radiate off of it.
I stood there. Paralyzed with fear. I didn’t breathe. This only lasted for what was
probably ten seconds though because eventually the silhouette man faded as well as the
ringing and whispering. At this point I was absolutely horrified and I didn’t know what to do
or where to go.
I felt as if I was going to pass out so I sat down in my hallway against the wall. I
began to reason. It was dark in the hallway. I could’ve just been seeing things. I came up
with multiple possibilities to explain it away, but the whole time, in the back up my head, I
was thinking about the article I had read two nights ago. The one that talked about the
ringing in your head. I was trying to ignore it. Trying to make myself believe it wasn’t real.
But at this point I was pretty sure I was. The optimism and energy I had had earlier was
completely gone. I sat there in my dimly lit, deathly quiet hallway for a few more minutes,
trying to get myself to mentally recover. But then I looked at my watch and saw that I should
probably get dressed and leave for work. I thought maybe work would help me get my mind
off it. Oh how wrong I was.
When I arrived at work that day I was told by Sarah that I was working the shelves.
That was our bookstore code for saying that I was supposed to stock the shelves, make
sure the books were in the right order and the right section, and basically just make sure
everything was organized right. I was usually relieved by this because that meant I got to go
into the depths of the bookstore and be by myself, avoiding awkward conversation with
Sarah. But this time it was the last thing I wanted. For once I was desperate for human
contact. I never wanted to be alone again. I was afraid I would see that shadow man again.
And especially in the dim, quiet, lonely and labyrinth­like depths of the bookstore, I would
be very alone and vulnerable. But, I couldn’t ask to not work the shelves. I had no excuse
and if I had told Sarah the real reason she’d be convinced that I was insane. I knew I wasn’t
insane, I knew what I saw.
So, trying to act natural, I receded into the depths of the claustrophobic and musty
old maze of shelves. I reassured myself by saying that in an hour or two the customers
would start to come in, and make me less alone and vulnerable. The “protocol” for working
the shelves was to start all the way in the back of the store and work your way up. Back
there the shelves were high and up to the ceiling, and the aisles between the shelves were
very narrow. Even if I hadn’t seen that thing that morning I’d still be uncomfortable back
there. As I made my way back there, I kept impulsively looking over my shoulder, looking to
my right and left. I was more paranoid than I had ever been.
But, eventually I got back there. Then, scanning the shelves for any disorder, I began
to work my way up. The worst part was every time I turned a corner, I expected to see the

8. shadow­man there, waiting for me. After about 15 minutes, I had almost worked my way out
of the creepy old back section, but then I began to hear whispers. No ringing this time. Just
whispers. They started very very quiet, but very gradually they began to get louder. I began
to hasten my work, my adrenaline rushed, I was so tempted to bolt, get myself the fuck out
of that store. But I wanted to make sure Sarah knew I wasn’t crazy. I was sweating, hastily
scanning through the books, doing a half­ass job.
As the whispers got louder, I began to notice that they were becoming much easier
to understand the words they were saying. If I really focused I could pick out individual
words and sometimes a string of two or three.They didn’t make sense to me. Some words I
remember that I heard were “sort”, “delay”, “produce”. There was one thing I heard though
that just made me lose it. I was able to hear two words in a row. They were “find him”. When
I heard this I gave up trying to look sane and just straight up started sprinting out of the
store. The arrangement of the shelves made it so that there was no straight­line way to get
out. I had to navigate, dart and dodge. The whole time I could’ve sworn there was
something following me, but I never looked back. As I passed the front desk I heard Sarah
say my name in a very surprised voice. I just kept going, I swung open the door and ran out
into the street. I wasn’t thinking and I had run right out in front of a moving taxi. I turned left
and saw it just before it hit me. Then I saw a flash of red.
The next thing I can remember I woke up in a hospital bed in one of those crappy
robes they give you. I had all sorts of mechanisms attached to me that led to monitoring
machines. I lay there a few seconds, trying to remember why I was here. I could remember
running. I didn’t know what from.
I then heard I soothing female voice from my right.
“You’re awake.” it said.
I looked over to see what could only be my nurse. A young asian woman holding a
clipboard, wearing nurse’s clothes. She looked at me endearingly. I simply grunted as a
response. She came up to my bedside and asked.
“Do you know why you’re here?”
I shook my head.
“You were hit by a taxi. You fractured your left femur and your skull.”
“How long have I been out?” I asked groggily and slowly. It was hard to get the words
out. It reminded me of the few times I’d been drunk.
“Sir, you’ve been out for almost four months.” She waited for a response.
I was slightly in shock. Four months? She interrupted my thoughts.
“Did you know you talk in your sleep?”
This question shocked me. I didn’t sleep around other people very often but when I
did I had never been informed that I talked in my sleep.
“Uh no.” I spoke again in my slurred voice. I chuckled. “What kind of shit did I say?”
She looked at her clipboard. “Things like: ‘stay away’, ‘shadow man’, and ‘I’m

9. alone’.” She looked at me for a reaction.
Up until this point I had forgotten about the entire shadow man ordeal and the ringing
and the article. It all came rushing back. It overwhelmed me and I groaned.
“Does any of that mean anything to you?” she inquired of me.
At that instance something else came rushing back to me. It was a dream I had had
when I was out. It wasn’t much. I was falling, belly up. All I could hear was the deafening
ringing sound and the whispers. But all around me were shadow men. They seemed to be
hovering as I was falling through an endless black void.
I moaned and closed my eyes. But I responded no to her question.
“Well, that’s not all that you said. At many times you would scream no over and
over... You also said ‘leave me alone’ a lot.” The more she said the more concerned she
seemed to get.
She continued to talk but I toned her out and pretended to go back to sleep.
Eventually I heard her leave. I was completely disoriented and I had no idea what time it
was. The room I was in had no windows. Now that I thought about it I realized the room I
was in didn’t have much of anything except the bed I was in and the equipment surrounding
it. This confused me but I didn’t think too much of it. I decided next time my nurse checked
on me I’d ask her what hospital I was in. I looked to my right to see that the only way light
was entering my room was through a small window in my door and front the screens of my
monitoring equipment. Even though I had just slept for almost four months, I was very tired
for some reason, and fell asleep quickly.
I woke up again to see my nurse and what looked like a doctor standing over me.
They were looking at each other discussing something in rather serious tones.
“What hospital am I in?” I asked. My words seemed to come out a bit more easily
than earlier. They looked down at me.
“Oh, you’re awake.” said my nurse.
“Sir, you’re in Manhattan Psychiatric Center.” he said with a reassuring,
everything­is­ok smile.
My eyes widened, my heart sunk, and I felt goosebumps raise all over my body.
“What?” I said, hoping I had heard it wrong.
“Manhattan Psychiatric Center.” he said again. This time a bit more stern.
“I­I’m not crazy.” I said desperately.
“No one said­­” the doctor started.
“I’m in a fucking mental hospital!” I screamed and tried to sit upright in my bed but I
found that I was strapped down.
“Sir, I’m going to need you to calm down.” the doctor said, somehow remaining
calm. “Now I need you to listen to me.” he waited for me to agree to listen. I still sat there
staring into his eyes, giving no response. “Ok, well you got hit by a taxi about four months
ago. You broke a couple of bones and you were taken to New York Downtown Hospital.All

10. seemed normal until you started talking in your sleep. They said it was about a shadow
man. You were talking to it, yelling at it, in your sleep. The people over there contacted us
and we arranged to have you sent over here for further investigation. You’ve been here for
three and a half months and you’ve been talking almost constantly. Mostly about this
shadow man character you seem to have invented.”
“Invented?” I yelled “I saw it­­” I stopped myself before I kept going. Shit, I’d done it.
Now they were positive I was insane. No going back now. “Buh.. But I’m not insane. I know
what I saw, it wasn’t in my head.”
The doctor turned to the nurse and whispered something. She nodded and left the
room hastily. This angered me to the point that I wanted to strangle the nurse and the
doctor. I struggled to free myself from the restraints holding me in my bed. I started yelling.
After only a few seconds the nurse returned followed by two security guards. One knocked
me out.
I woke up and I was here. Where I am now. I’m in a small, white room, with padded
walls and floor. I’m in a suit that makes it so I can’t move my arms. I’ve lost track of time.
For all I know all of this could’ve happened 50 years ago. I have no way to see my face so I
have no way of judging my age. I’m writing this with a pen they gave me and my mouth. I’ve
gotten quite good at it. This is my three­hundred­fifty­sixth time I’ve tried to write this. I have
a lot of time on my hands. This might seem like a sad and miserable situation to be in. I
think it would be. But the shadow man visits me. He talks to me through my head. Tells me
it’ll all be over soon, very soon.