Samford Blues

Everyone with an internet connection has seen that statement that reads "If you wake up at 2-3am, there is an 85% chance someone is staring at you." I did some research into this, and all isn't as it seems. The likelihood of being woken up by someone, or something, staring at you is only 7%.
However, I also found out that if your intuition tells you something is staring at you, then something probably is. It's your body telling you something isn't right, telling you to do something or shit can turn bad quite quickly. You should always follow this instinct. You're probably wondering why all this is important, well soon all will become clear. I'm going to tell you my story and why you should always follow your gut instincts.
I had just recently moved out of my parent's house into a small cottage in rural England. The country atmosphere was different from that of the city in which I grew up in. I felt I needed a change; I just wasn't satisfied in the big city, especially with the high crime rate. The police actually avoided several parts of the city it was that bad. As soon as I turned 18 and could legally leave home, I jumped on the chance. I promised my overprotective mother and father I'd keep in touch.
My younger brother, Charlie; 16 and stubborn, but he meant well, gave me a supportive punch on the shoulder and a hug. Not an emotional one or very embracive, but the thought was there. I promised him I'd come back and play football every Christmas and Easter. We weren't a close family, but we cared about each other a lot, and I could tell they'd be sad I was gone. Never-the-less, I climbed into my car and set off, waving goodbye to the big city and everything I knew, driving into the unknown. Somehow though, I knew I'd never see them again, my family, not as I had before.
The village I moved to was called Samford, quiet place with a population of around 300. One big supermarket, one police station, small hospital and one typical church. It was quiet, maybe some would call it boring but for me it was the haven I had sought since 16. The house I bought was quiet average of the area, two bedrooms, one bathroom, one small kitchen and a living room – dining room morphed into one. The TV wasn't one of those new 3D things that's for sure, but it worked, and that was enough.
The house had a peaceful feel to it, except for one small thing. When I stepped into the master bedroom (I say master simply because it was the bigger of the two) It never felt right. I didn't feel ... alone. I shook it off as being in a new environment and moved all my stuff in. I already had a secure job in the Samford police force before I arrived, so financing my new lifestyle was never going to be a problem.
It was getting late, so I settled in for my first night in my new home. I slept well, until about 2:45 am. It was the same feel as before, I didn't feel right, I was at unease. I flicked the light on and looked around. Nothing. It was worrying, but again I just shook it off as just nerves being in a new place alone and tried going back to sleep.
The next day was my first shift for the police force. The way it works here is that you're assigned a partner and for the next month, you're stuck with that person. You were then assigned a beat, whether it be traffic, patrol car rounds or patrolling on foot. I was assigned a man in his mid-40's, been doing this job since he got out of school so he knew what he was doing. Tyrone was his name, he was tall; around 6ft 5', black, and an overall nice guy. His most distinctive feature was a wound he had on his face. It was three scratches down his cheek, like an animal had clawed at his face. Despite this, he was a pleasant man.
"Feeling nervous?" He asked me with a warming smile
"Yeah, a little bit" I replied
"Well don't be, Samford has the lowest crime rate around. The worst thing that happened was, well, forgive me for sounding insane, but some kind of... Monster attack three years ago now" He said warm-heartedly
"Is, um, that where you got that scar from?" I asked cautiously
After a momentary silence, he replied with
"Yeah, we tracked it down to a field, It had killed young boy. I just snapped and unloaded two shotgun rounds into it, didn't seem to do anything though, it jumped on me, clawing my face before I ever hit the ground"
I was amazed; this guy had been through so much in such a quiet place.
"Then the chief picked up the shotgun I'd dropped and shot it in the back of the head. Quick and humane like. It's just a shame we couldn't get there to save that poor boy, he was only 8 god rest his soul. Never
found the creatures body though."
"You did your best Tyrone, you can't beat yourself up over it" I had only just met this man, but he was a saint, I saw that immediately.
"Well, yeah I guess. Anyways, let's get too it, your first round, let's hope for a lack of monsters eyy? Ha-ha!"
And with that we were off, we got vehicle patrols, meaning we patrolled the town in our squad car. It was your standard squad car, with a shotgun in the back, not that I could see its use for anything, everyone just seemed so nice. The locals knew one another; no one had any skeletons in their closets around here. My first round was uneventful. I went home straight after shift and went straight to my room.
I went to sleep, and once again, at around 2:50am this time, I woke up, with that gut feeling of being watched. I'd already had enough. I inspected every inch, every crevice, and every part of the room. There was nothing, there was no monster watching me sleep, or maniac hiding in my wardrobe with an axe. There was me, in my empty room. At night. I crawled back into bed and attempted to sleep, only to fail. I didn't get another wink.
My schedule meant I wasn't in work the next day, due to it being a Sunday, so I went onto my laptop with the intention of checking this whole waking up at the early hours, especially the being watched bit. I loaded up Google, and it was right there, on predictive search. People have searched this before.
"Waking up at 2-3am" I clicked it, and then clicked the first link. The website read
"If you wake up at 2-3am with no logical reason, there is an 85% chance you're being stared at"
"Oh fuck." I said to myself.
Could this really be true? Was I being fucking stared at? Was that why I was waking up every night? I went out to the village centre and bought a gun. A small .22 pistol and a box of ammunition. Being a member of the police force, there was no background check needed. I was paranoid as fuck. I put it under my pillow, if anything was staring at me I was going to give it something to fucking stare at. I was prepared. This night was the night I would get down to whatever the fuck was going on.
Night came. I slept in my lonely room. 3am came, and again, that feeling came. I didn't flip the light on, as I had the other times, I opened my eyes ever so slightly, and looked around my room, the door was closed, and there was nothing of interest. So I turned around, trying my best to make it look like I was doing it in my sleep. That's when I noticed there was a crack in my wall, the moonlight flooded through it, and I saw every distinctly, a pupil.
It was snake-like. Slit, with yellow surrounding it. It met my gaze, I don't know if It saw I was awake, but it's pupil widened, I swiftly put my hand under my pillow and pulled out the pistol, and fired two shots. I heard a distinct growl, it was inhuman, and something I will never forget. It kept growling so I assumed it wasn't dead, I ran outside, no pants or shirt, just underwear, eager to confront the creature that had made my life in Samford a misery.
The crack was on the wall in my back garden, I bent down to look through it and you could see my room clearly. This... Thing was what was watching me all this time. I had hit the creature with one of my shots at least; It had left a blood trail out of my garden, and up the road, towards the church. I followed it, determined to end this creature's miserable existence. The church was ancient, the cross with the image of Christ was worn down and the doors wood was rotted. The distinctive growls I had heard inside were that of the beast.
I walked inside. Shaking like hell, gun held tightly. The benches were empty; the seats where many had sat in the morning for their normal practise were just there. Empty, reflective of the creature I came to destroy. This was the thing Tyrone saw, the thing that scratched his face. I was in the house of God. I felt an audience was watching me, judging me by the actions I carry out today. I heard the creature growling above me. He was near the bell of the church. I fired my gun.
One shot
Two
Three
Four
Five
I emptied the clip, the creature fell motionless. Dead. I'd done it. I'd done Gods work. I felt him smiling down on me, I was his archangel. His bringer of justice. I was God's servant.
This is why you should always follow your instincts, if your gut says do it, do it! It could save your life one day.
These are the insane ramblings of Carlos Phillips. He had just moved to Samford after, the police believe, killing his family at their home in Manchester. His mother and father were both stabbed repeatedly. His brother, Charles, was bludgeoned with a blunt object, most probably the hammer covered in blood next to his corpse. On the wall he had written "GOD FORGIVE ME" in his brothers blood.
After moving, he was kicked off the police force for assaulting his assigned partner, rambling on about demons and being watched. The man, Tyrone Briggs, was left with permanent scars on his face. That night he walked into the Samford church with witness' saying he was rambling about the monster and doing God' work.
He shot dead the church repair man of 30 years, Herbert Moon, 5 times as he repaired the church bell. He believed he was shooting at some kind of demon that was watching him at night ever since he arrived in Samford.
Carlos is currently in a mental institution away from Samford and the general public. To this day, he says if you wake up at around 2-3am, and you feel you're being started at...
Then you probably are.
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