[ WP ] There is a monster in your house that can only attack you once you acknowledge that it exists . You know this and try to write off the various ways it tries to get your attention .

I wish I did n't believe in monsters. I really do. It would make having one as a roommate a whole lot easier. Then I would n't have to worry about being mauled to death constantly. Oh well, c'est la vie, they say. 
 
 You see, I'm stuck. I spent all of my savings on a house that I could n't afford and now I ca n't just abandon it or I'll lose everything I have. On the flip side, because I'm choosing to stay, I may very well lose my life. 
 
 Let's back up a bit. Remember being a child and hiding under your bedsheets when you were trying to fall asleep, because it would somehow protect you from monsters? Well, that actually works. It works because a monster needs you to acknowledge it exists before it can attack you. That's why you're never just ambushed in the middle of a long hallway or while you're sitting on the porcelain throne. They need to get your attention first, so they flicker the lights or turn the TV to static or bump around in the attic. If you've seen a few horror movies, you've basically seen a documentary of how it all works. 
 
 Monsters are everywhere. It's just that most people do n't believe in them. 
 
 Unfortunately, I do. I do n't want to go into why, just know it was a messy affair and I'll never own another cat because of it. 
 
 So, that brings me to my house. I bought it because it was a new construction far away from any graveyards or any ancient burial grounds. It was n't a mansion. It did n't look the least bit Victorian. It was just a boring, plain, brick-façade house on a boring, plain, asphalt street, in a boring, plain, middle-income neighborhood. And most importantly, the bank approved my loan. 
 
 It was pretty uneventful and boring, at first. Which was exactly what I was looking for. It was the polar opposite of my last apartment, which had the dual-monsters of drug addiction and domestic violence. Unfortunately, those were all too real and way more annoying than fangs and claws and glowing eyes. 
 
 Then, about two months in, I started hearing the toilet flush five minutes before my alarm would go off. I checked the tank... nothing. Then I'd start seeing shadows move in the mirror right before I wiped away the steam. That got me suspicious. What sealed the deal for me that I had a monster, though, was the dishes. Specifically, my cast iron skillets. I kept finding them in the dishwasher. What kind of monster would do that? 
 
 To say the least, I was pissed. 
 
 And when I get pissed, I get stubborn. I knew that the monster would have no power over me so long as I did n't react to its shenanigans. So, now it's my goal to make the monster's life hell. I believe nothing is more frustrating to a monster than pretending it does n't exist. That's why people that do n't believe in them never have problems. The monster got fed up and left years ago. 
 
 Unfortunately, for my monster, he's bound to me. Precisely because I believe. I just have to keep pretending I do n't find it odd that my cheese blocks have bites in them. Or that the back door keeps squeaking even after I used an entire can of WD-40 on each hinge. Or, and get this, that a middle-aged man watches rom-coms, alone, *in the dark, * and laughs until he cries. 
 
 Ok, maybe that last part is n't necessary, but time will tell. 
 
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 [ Things I've written ] ( https: //www.reddit.com/r/cbeckw/ )
