Dear Entity, I beseech you, visit me again - unexpectedly.

Some nights ago, I fought an entity.

As I lay cold on my bag, the hardened tiles scraping my bony edges like I had no skin, I found myself at 3, Laird Place. Adjacent to my mother's room, backing the door, and right in front of me stood a female figure swaddled in black and masked in the same. she had curves and an unmistakable feminine mien, with menace in her eyes, she charged at me like an assassin.

At first, I doubted that I could stand her blows. She consistently came at me from different angles - much like the hardships of life. But every move she made, I countered. Every step she took, I anticipated. It was as though I knew what she would do before she did it. As if I could see everything coming before it did.

Now, I fear my dreams of being a prophet in my former life might be true. For how else could one logically explain this deductive reasoning and foresight?

I got a hold of her and started to hit her, repeatedly at every move & every turn, until I floored her. As she lay there, the thought of stripping her bare crossed my mind, and I got down to it immediately.

It had the tiny genitals of a man.

The devil in me stamped on it - again & again, but I saw and heard no signs of pain, for it's masked face held no expression. In a flash, it was up again, and I threw a blade at it but missed. When it brought the blade back to attack, I beat it out of it's hand casually as one would swat a pesky mosquito.

It attacked again and when I floored it this time, it hit the ground like a bag of potatoes. I waited patiently for it to rise, and when it did, I pulled the mask.

What I saw made no sense. It's face was “faceless” - if there is such a thing - and the sockets where eyes should have been were empty, I’d barely taken all of this in before it quickly covered up again, and we resumed our severely unfriendly physical transaction of hits and blows.

I focused on it's masked face then and kept hitting it, eager to demolish this abnormality that had confused me so. It’s a bit strange because as I write this now, I can barely recollect those facial features. I cannot figure out what it might have resembled, or if it was even familiar in any way.

I also don’t recall the end of the combat, but I know it neither touched nor floored me. All through our engagement, I had such a calm and focused center in my mind, one that made me certain that even if I hadn't completely destroyed my adversary, I had done enough to beat it back to the innermost cores of hell, for it seemed to fade into oblivion afterward.

Since that night, I have prayed, waited, and asked for the return of this creature. I have slept as lightly, yet deeply and carefully as possible. I wish to encounter it again, with the intention of malignant violation.

I want to strike fast and hit first. I want to rip the mask off it's face, again, but this time hold down it's skinny neck and stare right into the emptiness of those dark sockets. I intend to defy it's clothing and strip it completely naked.

My instincts tell me that I will get my chance, and they are always right, so I'll wait patiently. When the time does come - when it returns - there will be no mercy or reservation. I will joyfully welcome it with matching darkness and fiery vigor. I would treat it like a worthy adversary, regardless of form or gender. I will fill those empty eyes with fear and tremor and scar that faceless face like my scalp.

Dear creature, I beseech you, visit me again, unexpectedly as you have done. Come in all your force and strength. Visit me again, strangely as you have done. Pick a place and a time, but hurry up, for I cannot wait to end you.