Creature From Below

So I was searching an old abandoned mansion, and for the most part being the most creepy and decrepit shit I've ever seen. It was interesting to find what's inside.

For example, some old priceless Chinese pottery that must be a thousand years old, if China was even established a country by then. Or beautiful, glimmering gold and silver that must be worth millions!

But it get's worse when I see a skeletons with blood, crusty, old blood decorated all around the room. I found a leather journal, and the first thing I did after finding it is simply fucking run for my damn life.

Some would say this the end of the horror show, but when I came back home, the real terror comes from the explanation for all that shit in the journal. Thus, I'm going to type everything out from this journal, I hope it's not too long.

November 10, 1984
I can't sleep. I can't fucking sleep. I wake up with scratches all over my body to only disappear 1 minute afterwards. The nightmares keep on getting worse, last night's nightmare was with me stuck in a decrepit apartment, with a woman hanging from a ceiling until the apartment breaking down and nothing but darkness, falling insi (page ends)

November 11, 1984
I yesterday was interrupted by something, I don't know what. So I just stopped writing for yesterday, and ran out into the cold night, went to a bed and breakfast, took a bath and just slept there for the night.

I went back to check on my house, and it had scratches everywhere, the couch flipped over and the tv was broken. I went into my safe room to just check it for intruders. Nobody. I called my mom to ask if I could just go to her house while I let the police investigate. She didn't answer.

I'm just gonna the police. Now I'm questioning my sanity over this.

November 12, 1984
The police investigates the area, nothing. They told me it'll be alright, and to just call again if anything happened.

November 13, 1984
The creature from below

him and his glowing eyes

a creature we'll never truly know

a devil we must despise

he is mere darkness

November 14, 1984
This is it. I know it's here. Me and my friend are going to kill this fucking devilish bitch-ass monster. I've had enough of fear. I'm getting two shotguns, two mini-Uzis, and holy water, with crosses for me and my friend. He's taking his whole personal arsenal.

November 15, 1984
There wasn't just one, they're in the thousands. Good thing we brought all the shit we did. We ran out of ammo.

November 16, 1984
My friend has passed. They're circling all around me.

November 17, 1984
death is sweet

(journal ends)

This is just fucking crazy. They're were no guns at the mansion, no single bullet, no friend corpse, though researching any incidents leads me to a case of a mental patient with schizophrenia, breaking out of an asylum, possible reports a homeless man in that same mansion I checked, and a man breaking and entering into a bed and breakfast, all in that same time period. This is fucked.