Author’s Note
Dear Reader,
One of the things people ask me is where I come up with ideas for
stories. In the case of Come As You Are the
answer is easy: Personal experience.
My experience with a presence in the night is not something I’ve
told many people. Until now. It’s not exactly the one that Tempest
had, but it does provide the basis for this tale.
One night, in February of 1992, I was living in a small apartment
with myself and two cats. I’d lived in that apartment for almost a
year, and had enjoyed it. It was one bedroom, with a kitchen,
dining room, living room and bathroom. Just enough for one person
while I searched for a small house.
Things had been going fine until one night, when I woke up around
one a.m. The cat was lying next to me and his gaze was focused on
the doorway. He didn’t move from his spot, and when I stroked his
fur, he hissed at me, something that was not a natural thing for
him to do.
I pulled back my hand, figuring that the cat had just participated
in a fight with his feline brother and was angry. Then I went back
to sleep. This happened several more times during the week, waking
up at one a.m. and feeling as if I were not alone in the room.
Sometimes the cats would be there. Sometimes they wouldn’t. But the
feeling of being watched, of not being alone, was always the
same.
About a week after this started things changed. I woke up at one
a.m., as had been the norm during that time. Both cats were at the
bottom of the bed, but both were awake. The presence I had sensed
all this week was back, but this time it was in the bedroom, and
moving toward the bed.
Seconds after I felt the presence at the bottom of the bed, both
cats hissed and howled, running from the room, and a large weight
came down on top of me, as if a man were placing his body over
mine. I screamed and flailed out my arms, yelling at whatever it
was to “leave me alone.”
Then I ran out of the room to find the cats cowering in the corner
of the living room. I sat down on the couch, shaking, and both
felines jumped up, one on either side, as if to comfort me. I did
not sleep in that room again, moving from the apartment a little
more than a month later.
Was what I felt an incubus? Some of my friends are convinced that
it was. Others are convinced it was just my overactive imagination
playing tricks with my mind. I’m not sure exactly what I felt. I
know that when I asked it to leave, it did.
In my research about incubi, I found that some are sinister, and
some just want to provide physical comfort and companionship to
their chosen companions. Which is the truth, and which is fiction?
I wish I knew.
One good thing came out of it. A Spirit Seeker story that features
an incubus that leans toward the darker side.