Case File #22: "Blind Man Sees Footprints"

October 15th, 2003

Subject arrived at my office at 12:53 PM. Henceforth referred to as 'J'. He is a Latino male, aged 22. Approximately 5'10", 150 lbs. He smelled of cigarettes and kept his sunglasses on. He brought a service animal with him–an elderly golden retriever named Guppy.

J was referred to me by a previous client, see file #17. 

We made small talk and I confirmed cursory information. J has lived in the city his whole life. He has been blind since birth. There is no history of mental illness in his family that he's aware of. He currently resides with his mother and older sister.

He has been to several specialists and psychiatrists over the past year, seeking an explanation for the phenomena he has encountered. We briefly discussed what happened to him over the phone, prior to our meeting. At that time he expressed resistance to being recorded, though he has become more receptive to the idea. 

The following is a transcript of J describing his experience. Minor edits were made for clarity. Full tape filed in archive, document index #220983.

***

R: I’ve pressed the record button. You’re consenting to have the rest of this conversation on the record? 

J: Yeah, I guess. 

R: Thank you. Now, in your own words, I'd like you to explain when your symptoms started, how they've progressed, and the way you experience them.

J: You mean the footprints?

R: Yes. That's correct.

J: OK. Well... I dunno, man. I guess it started with nightmares?

R: Oh really?

J: Yeah. We moved to a new apartment a couple years ago, and I started having weird ass dreams. My mom said it was just the change, you know? Like having to memorize a new building layout, and the way to the bus and everything. It's stressful. 

R: Can you give examples of what these dreams were about?

J: It's hard to describe. It's just noises and sensations. Like, my eyes ain't never worked. So it's a jumble of screaming, and growling, and the feeling that there's something bad nearby. Sometimes it's really cold, like I'm walking around in the snow. Other times it's so hot it feels like I'm sitting in an oven. 

R: Interesting.

J: Is it?

R: Please continue.

J: Well, the dreams started getting worse. Like–things would be touching me. Weird, slimy things. They'd grab me and hold me down, or try to choke me. 

R: Did your mother or sister ever mention anything about visible injuries?

J: I mean, I run into shit a lot. I'm pretty sure I always have some bruises.  

R: I was wondering about the scars on your wrists. They look more like burns than cuts. Do you know where those might have come from?

J: No.

R: OK. That's fine.

J: Anyway, I'm having all these fucked up dreams, so I'm not sleeping very well. I keep waking up in the middle of the night. And... well that's when other shit starts happening. Like, I know I'm not actually seeing anything. It's impossible. But one night I just wake up, and there's this glowing shape in front of me. At first I was too freaked out to do anything but turn away and pull the covers up over my head. But... when I woke up again in the morning it was still there.

R: Just the one shape?

J: Yeah. That's all it was at first. It stayed in the same spot. I eventually started experimenting, you know, walking closer to it, then farther away, and it was always fixed on the floor by my bedroom door. I probably spent a long time looking at it before I figured out it was... well you know I traced my hands along it and it felt like the same shape as a foot?

R: That makes sense.

J: Anyway, I think it was about a week before another one appeared. Pretty close to the first one. It lead out into the hallway. They started popping up quicker after that. Just a day or two between them. Sometimes just a few hours. Soon there was a trail leading through the apartment, out onto the landing, and down to the basement. 

R: You followed it?

J: Once it got outside the apartment, I was a little nervous. I brought Guppy along, but he wasn't really into it. He doesn't like the basement. As soon as we started down the stairs, he just kept whining and pawing at me, trying to lead me back up to our apartment. At that point, we'd been living in the building for a while. So I figured I'd be OK going by myself. I put Guppy back and went down to the basement by myself.

R: Do you remember what happened next?

J: I dunno. The doctors said I probably fell hit my head or something.

R: But that isn't what you think happened?

J: Fuck, man. I have no idea. I honestly have no idea. I got down to the basement, and it was really cold. I followed the footprints, and they led me straight into a wall. It looked like they kept going, but I couldn't get any farther. There wasn't a door. Just solid, concrete wall. I walked all around the room. The only shit down there is the washer and dryer, and like a big metal sink. The stairs were the only way in or out. 

R: That all sounds quite reasonable. 

J: I mean, it was. Everything seemed normal until I tried to go back upstairs. The stairs didn't go up anymore, man.

R: What do you mean?

J: I mean the staircase that should take me back up to the lobby, took me down into a room that doesn't fucking exist. I was freaked the fuck out and tried to turn around. But no matter what I did, the steps kept leading down. Like if I tried to go backwards it would just fucking switch directions. I can tell up from down. And I know the layout of the lobby. Those stairs when down into some kind of second basement. It was even colder, and the air felt all musty and damp. On the one hand, I was relieved when I hit a floor and at least wasn't going down anymore. On the other hand, I didn't know where I was, and that weird musty smell was getting worse by the second.

R: Could you see footprints at this point?

J: Yeah. Above me. Like, on what was maybe the ceiling? I don't know.

R: What happened next?

J: You already know what fucking happened.

R: Would you please state it again for the record?

J: No.

R: Alright. May I paraphrase what you said before?

J: Do what you want, I guess.

R: The putrid aroma got worse, then something with slimy appendages attacked you. It dragged you to the ground, and held you down. As it choked you, it whispered about being so, so hungry. It made references to you smelling delicious. Then you experienced the sensation of being eaten alive. It was horribly painful. You felt teeth ripping through your flesh and the warmth of your blood draining out. Right before you lost consciousness, the creature thanked you for granting its freedom. Your sister found you some time later, lying on the basement floor, with no apparent injuries. Is that all correct?

J: (soft crying)

R: That should be enough for today.

***

Addendum: October 19th, 2003

I inspected the subject's apartment for signs of demonic or otherwise supernatural activity. The EMP gave off mid-range readings in the basement, as well as in J's bedroom, but I was unable to find a creature causing it. A considerable amount of time has passed since J’s last encounter, so I did not find this surprising. 

I prescribed a standard house cleansing, to be preformed by Fletcher, who I am loathe to call my associate. In the interest of accuracy, however, I must say he has provided good results before. He is unfortunately the best man for the job. I also advised J to stay out of the basement, and not interact with any other manifestations that appear to him. It is financially impractical for his family to move, or I would have encouraged it. We have set several follow-up appointments, while I transition him to seeing Martha on a more regular basis. She is much gentler than I could ever be, and can help him cope with his trauma while continuing our research efforts. 

I will continue to monitor the situation, though I fear whatever was tormenting J has already left that particular apartment building in favor of harassing the city at large.