Journal of a sane man

This is my first attempt at a short creepypasta. i hope you like it.

Crick, crack, crick, crack
The sound of footsteps on sagging wood
Crick, crack, crick, crack
An apparent motionless house
Crick, crack, crick, crack
The sound draws nearer the front door
Crick, crack, crick, BANG!
The door opens with a thundering noise!
No one stays in the doorway, an empty space
No one seems to have opened it
Was it the wind?
Or something else?
No one is there but, I can feel something looking at me, watching me from the door. Staring me down from across me lawn I get the chills and the wind picks up. The door slams shut. It echoes throughout the street, a thundering crack, breaking the silence, an empty noise.
 I started walking back up the front steps to my front door but, I couldn’t help but look back at the old house across the street. When I glanced back my eyes are drawn to the upper left window on the second floor. I see something there, a silhouette of a figure, it looks like a man. I squint to get a better look and I could see his eyes staring right at me. I froze in place panicking. Am I really seeing this? Or am I going insane? That’s not possible. The house has been abandoned since before I moved in the neighborhood. I quickly shake my head, after fumbling from dizziness and almost falling off m y porch I open my front door and frantically shut it.
I don’t know why….
A few days past before anything happened again.  It was a nice change of pace.
I awoke in a frenzy, panicking but I don’t know why. It was dark, cold, thundering outside. I could hear the rain hitting my bedroom window. I felt that chill again, that intense bone numbing chill, left my hair throughout my entire body stand on end. I’ll never forget that feeling.
I looked down at my wife sleeping next to me. She seemed unaffected by the storm or whatever it was that woke me.  She looked so peaceful laying there, so humble. God, I love her.
I glanced around the room. It’s very dark; I can see the outlines of the dressers, bed frame, and door thanks to the light from the window. Lightning flashes every now and then. It’s now 2:03 A.M. I don’t know how long I sat there looking around the room. I didn’t even see the light peeking out from under the door. It might have just turned on, maybe it was on the whole time. I don’t know.
I got up out of bed, stretched, felt my back and neck pop.  Slipped into my robe and walked out into the hallway. I remember thinking “What would gage be doing up so early in the morning?”
I opened his bedroom door slightly and peered in. gage was sound asleep, almost as if he never even got out of bed.
I lazily walked down the stairs and into the kitchen, got myself a glass of water and stumbled over to the living room. Plopped onto the couch and turned on the TV. I couldn’t help but stare out the window. Stare at the house across the street. It drew me to it then, it draws me now. I remember it like I was yesterday, the rain on the window, the flashes of lightning, thunder in the background, pitch black and noiselessness, the figure lurking on the porch. He was staring straight at me. I could see him in perfect vision. He wore a white shirt, blue vest, brown slacks; he was a thin wiry man with thinning white hair. He stared at me for a few seconds before moving almost as if he was phasing through space. He was on the porch then he was in the middle of the sidewalk, staring at me, staring, just staring through my window straight at me. I stood up and walked up to the window, never breaking eye contact with him, with it.
That’s when it happened. I got a throbbing mad headache, I was paralyzed, I couldn’t move couldn’t even collapse. He started crossing the street in a stride, like he was on a mission of grave importance. He crossed me lawn and stopped right in front of the window in front of me. Just stood there staring at me. I could feel the fear in me growing. Every hair on my body stood on end; I couldn’t even cry out or scream. I was frozen in place.
Then he was gone, vanished into thin air. I collapsed and wept for my sanity. Not knowing what was going on. I had a painful screeching noise in my ears like nails on a chalk board only, much worse. I was shivering, and shaking uncontrollably. I don’t know how long I lay there but when my wife found me. she helped me up and lay me on the couch. I was passed out for 2 days after she lay me there.
When I awoke, my head was still throbbing like crazy. I couldn’t concentrate on anything but the heartbeat in my ears. My body was on fire and I felt like I couldn’t move a single muscle in my body. I lay there a few more hours, observing my surroundings. Trying to make sense of what happened. I still wonder why my wife didn’t take me to the hospital within the 2 days in was unconscious, but I never asked her. I guess I’m kind of grateful she didn’t though; I would have probably been thrown in the nut house.
When I finally got the strength to move, I went to the bathroom, relieved myself, took a shower and changed clothes.  It was a Thursday. I decided to run to the store, we were out of milk and I needed to clear my head. I opened the front door and my eyes were once again glued to that tormenting house, antagonizing me, urging me to not look away. I walked to my car my eyes never leaving the house. Opened the car door and even looked at the house while i backed up out of the driveway. I saw the man standing in the door watching me leave. I shook my head to clear my thoughts.
I got to the store, sat in the parking space in my car for a few minutes with my eyes closed. A thousand thoughts poured into my head;
Am I going insane?
Am I crazy?
What would happen to my wife and gage if I was going insane?
What do I do to stop this madness?
Who is this old man anyway; I’ve never seen him before.
What do I do?
I felt dizzy, like I was about to pass out again. I once again shook my head. It’s weird how that seems to help clear your head.
When I got into the store I kept seeing him. I saw that man everywhere, behind every corner, around every bend, at the end of each aisle. Just staring at me, not moving. Every time I saw him my heart sped up, my breath quickened, I was hyperventilating and sweating like crazy. I didn’t know what to do! Why is he following me? What did I do to deserve this torment! This torture? I bought the milk and ran out of the store like a mad man.
When I got home I decided to do some research. He is in the house with me. He’s always within my sight, Even now while I’m writing down my findings. Its Friday now. I haven’t slept since yesterday. I’ve been looking at a computer monitor for the last I don’t even know how long. I haven’t found anything on the house or the strange man inside. It’s almost like they don’t even exist. Maybe it’s a hallucination I’m creating in my head?  But the house has been here as long as I’ve lived in the neighborhood.
My wife is home now. I asked her about the house, she sees it. So at least I’m not crazy about that part. When I asked her about the old man, she looked at me like I was crazy though. Saying “what old man, honey are you ok?” “Maybe you should get more rest.”
Maybe I am crazy.
Maybe I do need sleep.
I’m not going to write in this journal anymore, I feel it might be fueling my insanity and hallucinations. Why am I telling myself to stop writing in a journal by writing in a journal?

May 4, 2009 2:13 A.M.
I’ve sent my wife and gage to my mother’s house because it’s no longer safe. He attacked me last night and I fear for my family so I sent them away. I am now glad I wrote down my occurrences, but angered by the fact I stopped over the past 3 weeks. I date this log for I fear it might be my last entry. People need to know the truth and I have to tell them. Whoever finds this journal makes this known. Ghosts are real.
Demons are real.
I know I’m not insane, they attacked my wife. Tortured my son, and even killed my neighbor. His house was a bloody mess. Blood everywhere, on the walls, in every room, the police said there was no way a single person could produce so much blood. That was 3 days ago. The police are baffled.
I know I’m not insane now; he’s still lurking behind me. Everywhere I go he stalks me. He’s  my shadow, his name is kale. He told me he’s murdered hundreds over the centuries and I am his vessel. He is a messenger of the devil and I have been chosen.
But, I don’t know why I’m chosen he hasn’t given me a reason. Why me?
It’s so exhilarating. Part of me wants to be the host, the other part is terrified. I don’t know what to do.
The doctor walked into the room. Grabbed the journal the patient never let leave his sight.
Looked at the chicken scratch hand writing, there’s no point trying to read it.
The doctor bent down so he was eye level with the patient. Tried speaking word of encouragement; “you’re not alone. There is no one following you.”
The patient looked up at the doctor, “why do you want me to be your host? Why choose
me?”
The doctor wrote down some notes and mumbled under his breath. This man is a lost cause he will never get better.
The doctor, reminiscing why the patient was put here in the first place, still couldn’t believe the cause. It was 3 weeks ago…the man slaughtered his family in cold blood, and stapled the skin of his wife and child to the wall. He was found by the old man across the street, a constant visitor and family friend, sitting in blood with a butcher’s knife in his hand. A crazy blank stare on his face, motionlessly watching the blood drip off the wall. The old man called police and they apprehended him without much of a fuss. He kept saying the old man told him to do it, that it was his fault and now he’s ready to be his host.
That’s what the police report said anyways.