We spent the rest of the day cleaning up my room as best we could. The last thing I wanted was for my parents to see the message left all over my wall; a message that made no sense to me, by the way.
When I was finally satisfied that my parents could look into my room and not deem me clinically psycho, Carla and I decided to get out of the house and calm down. I spared her a glance as we walked down the block. Her shaking had gotten better, but she was still kinda pale. I wrapped my arm around her and tried to think of something to say, but nothing came to mind so I just kinda held her for awhile. Finally I couldn’t take the silence; I needed to hear her say something.
“So...are you doing okay?” Oh god, stupid question. Of course she wasn’t you idiot.
She smiled weakly. “You’re cute when you’re all worried.”
“I...well...I just...” Good, now the stammering was starting. How the hell did she do this to me? All she did was call me cute.
She laughed, a small laugh but it was something. “You’re just as cute when you’re all flustered,” she said, wrapping her arm around my waste and leaning close. “Thanks Ian.”
“You’re welcome.” Ha, got that one right.
We walked for a while longer before the subject couldn’t be ignored any longer.
“So that message...”
She sighed, “Yeah, the message. Hey I’m sorry for freaking out back there or whatever. From here on I am totally committed to keeping a brave face and figuring this thing out.”
I couldn’t help but smile. “Good to know. I wonder what it meant though. I mean I don’t think I have anything that belongs to...well whatever is down there. Can you think of anything?”
She thought for a moment, “Not really, you know, we could try checking out the history of the house or something. Maybe someone died in your basement and we’re dealing with an angry ghost out for revenge.”
Pleasant thought.
“I don’t think so,” I said. “Whatever’s down there is definitely physical. It stomps down the stairs, slams doors, and came into my room and seriously invaded my personal space.” I shuddered at the memory. “Plus it laughs a lot, do ghosts laugh?”
She was staring up at me with a cocked eyebrow. “Invaded your personal space? Like...you know...?”
“What are you...oh god...no! No Jesus Christ no! You are a twisted person you know that! That is all different kinds of messed up!”
“Good, cause I don’t want anyone getting there before me,” she said sweetly.
“I...um...” Oh god the stammering, and now I was blushing too. I drive the ladies wild. Good to see Carla was pretty much back to normal though.
“Oh my god!” She stopped suddenly and looked at me, her eyes wide.
“What?” I asked, “Cause despite my serious lack of anything related to composure, I am totally cool with you invading my personal space.”
“What...? Oh, yeah whatever look I just figured it out!” She looked at me expectantly.
“Um...so what is it that you...”
“I can’t believe I didn’t realize it right away, god I’m so stupid! It wants that locket back!”
“Locket?”
“Yeah that locket I found in the basement. I put it in my pocket and forgot about it. That’s gotta be what it wants.”
I nodded, remembering how we had found that tiny trinket in the corner. “So where is it now?” I asked. “Do you have it with you?”
She shook her head, “No, I tossed it on my dresser and forgot about it. I’ll run home and get it right away though. Are you gonna come?”
“Tempting, but I should get back home and let my parents know I’m around.”
“Okay, well I’ll be right back, so don’t get gobbled up by the monster or anything until I get back.”
“Yeah, well I’ll try my best on that, hurry back.”
She nodded then gave me a quick kiss before breaking off into a sprint down the block. I couldn’t help but admire her enthusiasm as she was running, as well as her...no we’ll just stick with enthusiasm.
I got home a little while later and found both of my parent’s cars in the driveway. I walked in and was immediately greeted by my mother, who looked a little stressed out.
“Ian, oh good I’m glad you’re home, I need your help quickly.”
“What’s going on mom?” I asked, slightly worried. Mom never got stressed. I will never forget what she said.
“Your father went into the basement, but now the door is locked tight and he won’t answer me. I think he may have hurt himself or something. I need you to help me get the door open.”
Oh god. All I could do now was pray Carla hurried back with that locket.
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
Give It Back (The New House Part IV)
“It was easily the most terrifying moment of my entire life,” I said, in between bites of fries. “And I once sat through a Steven Segal marathon, which was pretty f-ing scary.”
Carla just looked at me, ketchup dripping from her burger. It was the next day and we had just finished school, and were now sitting in the food court in the nearby mall.
“What did your parents say?”
“Nightmare. Which works I guess. They are clearly oblivious to this whole thing and I don’t want them thinking I’m going nuts.”
“Yeah that would suck,” she said, “And Steven Segal is awesome, by the way.”
I smiled, despite myself. Truthfully, it was only Carla's presence and my own small attempts at making light of the situation with bad jokes that were keeping me from a nervous breakdown.
“Whatever," I said with a sigh. "Look, there is something seriously messed up in that basement and it won’t leave me alone. I’ve gotta do something about this.”
“But we looked through that whole basement and didn’t find anything, you’re really sure about this?”
“Wait,” I said, seeing where she was going. “You think I’m making this up?”
“Not making it up per say but…”
“Crazy then?!”
“No just…”
“Good, because I’m sure. I'm very, very sure. There is something down there and it really has a thing for me. Come on Carla, I need your help on this.”
“Okay, I just...okay.” She took another bite of her burger. “Do you wanna check out the basement again?”
I thought for a moment. “I guess so; I mean there’s nothing else really to go on is there?”
“Well, today we can give the basement a really good go over. Like check every nook and cranny, and then do it again,” she said, “And then tomorrow we can skip a couple of classes and maybe check out some of the history of the house. What do you think?”
“You think the house is gonna have history?”
“Sure why not? All houses have history.”
I nodded, “Okay, that’s as good a plan as any I guess. You about ready then?”
She smiled and nodded, wolfing down the rest of her burger in a very unladylike fashion. “All ready!”
I smiled, I really tried not to, but I couldn’t help it.
On the way back to my place, I stopped her.
“Thanks again,” I said, trying to stammer through what I wanted to say as quickly as possible. “I mean, I know this sounds really messed up and everything, and that I probably sound like a complete freak whenever I bring it up…”
She cut me off with a kiss, just a quick peck on the lips followed by her smile, but it shut it me up.
“Forget it,” she said. “It’s kind of fun anyways.”
“It so isn’t.”
“Uh-huh.”
“No, really not.”
“Yup.”
We bickered playfully the rest of the way. When we got there I saw that my parent’s car was nowhere to be seen. No surprise really, I usually beat them home. Still, there was something about being in the house without them that was really unnerving. Could be I was still getting used to the new place. Or, you know, the horrible monster in the basement. Whichever.
“Do you mind if I throw my stuff in your room?” Carla asked me as we stepped inside, motioning to her backpack, still slung over her shoulder.
I nodded, “Sure.”
She skipped upstairs and I again marveled at her ability to not take any of this seriously. Of course, if our positions were reversed I would probably have trouble believing it as well. I sighed on that thought and went to turn some lights on when I heard Carla.
“Um…Ian, can you come up here? Like…NOW!”
I turned and ran up the stairs, she sounded scared. Carla never got scared. I rounded the corner into my room and froze my mouth agape.
Carla was looking around in disbelief just as I was. My room had been trashed.
No, no trashed was too light a word. It looked like a hurricane ripped through it. My bed sheets and pillows were slashed, my bookcase overturned, my drawers yanked out and their contents tossed on the floor. There were even holes smashed into the wall. But that wasn’t what we were staring at.
On the wall, just above my bed, was a message; written in, what I prayed, was deep red paint.
“Give it back.”
“Holy shit...this is...I mean...I didn’t do this…” I muttered, and Carla turned to look at me.
“No kidding. What do we do? What does this mean? Ian I…I don't know if I can...”
She came over and gripped my arm. Christ she was shaking. I wrapped my arms around her, trying to comfort her. It hit me then, I suddenly realized that she had been taking this seriously the whole time. She had been putting up a front, but she was clearly disturbed by the whole story, and seeing proof of it had gotten to her. But why? If was really getting to her then why was she trying so hard?
I shook that thought out of my mind for the time being, and just tried to focus on soothing her, tried to focus on being strong for her. “It’s okay,” I said, holding her tight. “We’ll figure it out. We’ll figure something out.”
Carla just looked at me, ketchup dripping from her burger. It was the next day and we had just finished school, and were now sitting in the food court in the nearby mall.
“What did your parents say?”
“Nightmare. Which works I guess. They are clearly oblivious to this whole thing and I don’t want them thinking I’m going nuts.”
“Yeah that would suck,” she said, “And Steven Segal is awesome, by the way.”
I smiled, despite myself. Truthfully, it was only Carla's presence and my own small attempts at making light of the situation with bad jokes that were keeping me from a nervous breakdown.
“Whatever," I said with a sigh. "Look, there is something seriously messed up in that basement and it won’t leave me alone. I’ve gotta do something about this.”
“But we looked through that whole basement and didn’t find anything, you’re really sure about this?”
“Wait,” I said, seeing where she was going. “You think I’m making this up?”
“Not making it up per say but…”
“Crazy then?!”
“No just…”
“Good, because I’m sure. I'm very, very sure. There is something down there and it really has a thing for me. Come on Carla, I need your help on this.”
“Okay, I just...okay.” She took another bite of her burger. “Do you wanna check out the basement again?”
I thought for a moment. “I guess so; I mean there’s nothing else really to go on is there?”
“Well, today we can give the basement a really good go over. Like check every nook and cranny, and then do it again,” she said, “And then tomorrow we can skip a couple of classes and maybe check out some of the history of the house. What do you think?”
“You think the house is gonna have history?”
“Sure why not? All houses have history.”
I nodded, “Okay, that’s as good a plan as any I guess. You about ready then?”
She smiled and nodded, wolfing down the rest of her burger in a very unladylike fashion. “All ready!”
I smiled, I really tried not to, but I couldn’t help it.
On the way back to my place, I stopped her.
“Thanks again,” I said, trying to stammer through what I wanted to say as quickly as possible. “I mean, I know this sounds really messed up and everything, and that I probably sound like a complete freak whenever I bring it up…”
She cut me off with a kiss, just a quick peck on the lips followed by her smile, but it shut it me up.
“Forget it,” she said. “It’s kind of fun anyways.”
“It so isn’t.”
“Uh-huh.”
“No, really not.”
“Yup.”
We bickered playfully the rest of the way. When we got there I saw that my parent’s car was nowhere to be seen. No surprise really, I usually beat them home. Still, there was something about being in the house without them that was really unnerving. Could be I was still getting used to the new place. Or, you know, the horrible monster in the basement. Whichever.
“Do you mind if I throw my stuff in your room?” Carla asked me as we stepped inside, motioning to her backpack, still slung over her shoulder.
I nodded, “Sure.”
She skipped upstairs and I again marveled at her ability to not take any of this seriously. Of course, if our positions were reversed I would probably have trouble believing it as well. I sighed on that thought and went to turn some lights on when I heard Carla.
“Um…Ian, can you come up here? Like…NOW!”
I turned and ran up the stairs, she sounded scared. Carla never got scared. I rounded the corner into my room and froze my mouth agape.
Carla was looking around in disbelief just as I was. My room had been trashed.
No, no trashed was too light a word. It looked like a hurricane ripped through it. My bed sheets and pillows were slashed, my bookcase overturned, my drawers yanked out and their contents tossed on the floor. There were even holes smashed into the wall. But that wasn’t what we were staring at.
On the wall, just above my bed, was a message; written in, what I prayed, was deep red paint.
“Give it back.”
“Holy shit...this is...I mean...I didn’t do this…” I muttered, and Carla turned to look at me.
“No kidding. What do we do? What does this mean? Ian I…I don't know if I can...”
She came over and gripped my arm. Christ she was shaking. I wrapped my arms around her, trying to comfort her. It hit me then, I suddenly realized that she had been taking this seriously the whole time. She had been putting up a front, but she was clearly disturbed by the whole story, and seeing proof of it had gotten to her. But why? If was really getting to her then why was she trying so hard?
I shook that thought out of my mind for the time being, and just tried to focus on soothing her, tried to focus on being strong for her. “It’s okay,” I said, holding her tight. “We’ll figure it out. We’ll figure something out.”
Sleep Tight (The New House Part III)
“So basically, there’s a hobo in your basement?” Carla asked, grinning at me as she kicked a rock down the sidewalk.
I stared blankly at her for a second. “Um, yes… I guess…look it was way freakier when it happened,” I said, trying not to sound like a total wuss. “And what if it’s not just some hobo, but like a psycho killer or something? How am I supposed to sleep with that in my basement?”
She laughed, it was such a pretty laugh, and in this case, not at all appropriate.
“You wouldn’t be at all freaked out?” I asked her.
“Nope.”
“What, that’s it? Just ‘nope’ just like that? You wouldn’t be scared at all?”
She grinned again. “Yup.”
“I hate you,” I grumbled, which made her laugh again.
“Oh come on, this is kinda funny. I mean, if you can’t laugh then what can you do? It beats being all wiggy about it.”
“I’m not being wiggy. Who says wiggy now a day’s anyway?”
She gave me a look, then said, “You said your dad got the basement key this morning right? So let’s go down there and check it out.”
I stopped dead and looked at her. “You serious?”
“Well your dad probably kicked your hobo out already, so we probably won’t find much, but then I could see your house. I mean we’ve been hanging out every day for like the past month and you haven’t once invited me over. Or are you actually scared of going down into the basement?”
“I’m not…”
“Great!” She smiled and hugged me in a fit of glee. “It’s a date.”
“If this is all you expect out of dates then this should be pretty easy,” I smirked at her.
She laughed again; Carla was in a good mood today, I guess. Which was nice, it beat her being stressed out over school, like she usually was. Her parents were pretty rough on her about that stuff I guess. Mine were just happy I went.
So we got to my house and Carla bounded on in, way too excited. I headed in after her, though much slower, and found her talking to my mom. And damn if they didn’t already look like the best of friends.
“Ian, it’s about time you started bringing friends over. I was getting worried you weren’t making any at school.”
I sighed. “Mom this is Carla, Carla, my mom.”
“Yes I know dear, we’re way ahead of you here. Carla, seeing as my son never brings people home, much less any as pretty as you, would you like to stay for dinner?”
She spared me a quick glance to see what I thought. I just shrugged. Which she had figured out pretty much meant I was cool with it.
“I’d love too,” she beamed. “Let me just phone home real quick first.”
Mom showed her where the phone was, and then came back to me, all smiles.
“Ian, you never told me you had such a pretty girlfriend.” She said, now that Carla was out of earshot. “And she’s so full of life.”
“She’s not…”
“I really like her. You know I think she’ll be very good for you. You’ve been so mopey and…well just ‘blegh’ lately.”
“Mom I’m always like…”
“But I think Carla will really help get you out of your slump. Now dinner isn’t going to be for a little while yet so you kids find something to do until then.”
She looked like she was about to walk away, but paused. “But keep your bedroom door open,” she said, much louder than necessary, and headed towards the living room.
Oh god. Well at least Carla didn’t hear that. I met her in the kitchen just as she was getting off the phone.
“My mom said it’s cool if I stay,” she said. “I mean, if you’re still okay with it and everything. I know I’ve been a little pushy today.”
I smiled, just a little bit. “Its fine, I’m kinda glad you’re here actually.”
“Great! Oh and your mom doesn’t need to worry, I’m not so pushy as to attempt ‘closed door’ stuff already,” she said, grinning at me.
Damn it.
“Well, can we go check out this basement of yours?”
I refrained from sighing at her enthusiasm. “Okay, let’s go.”
We got to the door, and as I was mustering up the courage to open it and face whatever was down there, Carla shot her hand out and swung it open. She was already half way down the stairs before I realized what had happened.
“Hey, wait up.” I called as I found a light switch and flipped it on, heading after her.
At the bottom of the stairs, I could see that it was just a regular basement. It was old and dusty - pretty much what you’d expect. All our unpacked boxes were down here though, which meant dad must have been down here already.
“So, should we look for a cot?” Carla asked with a grin, clearly not taking this seriously at all. “Or maybe a rolled up blanket or a smelly jacket?”
I responded with silence. I felt it was deserved. I did start looking around though. For what I wasn’t really sure, but with Carla here helping me I felt a lot braver than I thought I would.
A half-hour of rummaging later revealed that this was, in fact, just a basement. No secret compartments or anything. No places a person could really hide. No evidence to suggest anyone had been down here at all.
“Hey look at this,” Carla called from the corner.
“Did you find something?”
She held up a small locket, dangling from a thin gold chain. It looked really old. “Is this your mom’s or something?”
I shook my head. “No, I’ve never seen it before. See I told you there was someone down here.” I said, taking the locket.
“Or,” she said, giving me a look, “The previous owners forgot it when they were moving. But your psycho hobo living in the basement theory makes sense too.”
Despite being mocked, I couldn’t help but smile. There didn’t seem to be anything to be afraid of down here after all.
We looked around a little while longer before deciding to head upstairs. Carla finished homework while we waited for supper. She wanted to close the door to mess with my mom but we decided not to push our luck. After dinner, I saw Carla out. She opened the door to leave and I stopped her.
“Hey, thanks for coming, and helping downstairs…I mean…um…” I fumbled for words that would express my gratitude and not make me look like a sissy when she stopped me.
“Anytime,” she smiled at me, then leaned forward and kissed me. Just a quick peck on the lips, but a kiss just the same. Seeing my expression, she frowned.
“Too soon?”
I smiled, a genuine doofy looking, ear to ear smile. “No, I mean, um…” Man I was stammering like an idiot. “Oh god please just go, this is embarrassing.”
She laughed. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said and closed the door behind her. I stared at it for a while before I realized what I was doing, and headed upstairs, still smiling ear to ear.
I didn’t want my parents to see that I was practically walking on air. I had an image, after all. So I avoided them for the next few hours until I went to sleep, thinking of how good a day it had been. The basement thing went well, and most of all, Carla and I seemed to be a couple now. Maybe; I mean I wasn’t really sure how it worked, but I thought it was a safe bet.
I slept pretty soundly until a noise woke me up. Groggily, I rolled over and checked my clock. 2:30 in the morning. I listened for a bit, trying to figure out what had woken me and heard footsteps outside in the hall.
Just one of my parents coming back from the bathroom, I figured as I drifted back to sleep.
Then I heard it. The chuckle. That grainy sandy raspy chuckle.
I was sure as hell awake now.
I listened as the footsteps got louder. How the hell could my parents not hear this?
And then they stopped.
And my door creaked open.
Jesus Christ, someone was in my room.
I was too terrified to do anything but pretend to be asleep. I could see a little bit of who it was, but it was too dark to see any details. Hunched over, with what looked to be a black robe on, a hood pulled over its head.
The figure came closer and it was all I could do not to scream. A long, claw like hand reached out and cupped my face, and I really thought I was going to die. Its grip was so cold. I should have screamed when I had the chance.
The chuckle again, and I could feel the heat of this thing’s foul breath on my face. Then its hand let go, and the figure shuffled back out, and I heard the bedroom door open and close.
And then I screamed.
I stared blankly at her for a second. “Um, yes… I guess…look it was way freakier when it happened,” I said, trying not to sound like a total wuss. “And what if it’s not just some hobo, but like a psycho killer or something? How am I supposed to sleep with that in my basement?”
She laughed, it was such a pretty laugh, and in this case, not at all appropriate.
“You wouldn’t be at all freaked out?” I asked her.
“Nope.”
“What, that’s it? Just ‘nope’ just like that? You wouldn’t be scared at all?”
She grinned again. “Yup.”
“I hate you,” I grumbled, which made her laugh again.
“Oh come on, this is kinda funny. I mean, if you can’t laugh then what can you do? It beats being all wiggy about it.”
“I’m not being wiggy. Who says wiggy now a day’s anyway?”
She gave me a look, then said, “You said your dad got the basement key this morning right? So let’s go down there and check it out.”
I stopped dead and looked at her. “You serious?”
“Well your dad probably kicked your hobo out already, so we probably won’t find much, but then I could see your house. I mean we’ve been hanging out every day for like the past month and you haven’t once invited me over. Or are you actually scared of going down into the basement?”
“I’m not…”
“Great!” She smiled and hugged me in a fit of glee. “It’s a date.”
“If this is all you expect out of dates then this should be pretty easy,” I smirked at her.
She laughed again; Carla was in a good mood today, I guess. Which was nice, it beat her being stressed out over school, like she usually was. Her parents were pretty rough on her about that stuff I guess. Mine were just happy I went.
So we got to my house and Carla bounded on in, way too excited. I headed in after her, though much slower, and found her talking to my mom. And damn if they didn’t already look like the best of friends.
“Ian, it’s about time you started bringing friends over. I was getting worried you weren’t making any at school.”
I sighed. “Mom this is Carla, Carla, my mom.”
“Yes I know dear, we’re way ahead of you here. Carla, seeing as my son never brings people home, much less any as pretty as you, would you like to stay for dinner?”
She spared me a quick glance to see what I thought. I just shrugged. Which she had figured out pretty much meant I was cool with it.
“I’d love too,” she beamed. “Let me just phone home real quick first.”
Mom showed her where the phone was, and then came back to me, all smiles.
“Ian, you never told me you had such a pretty girlfriend.” She said, now that Carla was out of earshot. “And she’s so full of life.”
“She’s not…”
“I really like her. You know I think she’ll be very good for you. You’ve been so mopey and…well just ‘blegh’ lately.”
“Mom I’m always like…”
“But I think Carla will really help get you out of your slump. Now dinner isn’t going to be for a little while yet so you kids find something to do until then.”
She looked like she was about to walk away, but paused. “But keep your bedroom door open,” she said, much louder than necessary, and headed towards the living room.
Oh god. Well at least Carla didn’t hear that. I met her in the kitchen just as she was getting off the phone.
“My mom said it’s cool if I stay,” she said. “I mean, if you’re still okay with it and everything. I know I’ve been a little pushy today.”
I smiled, just a little bit. “Its fine, I’m kinda glad you’re here actually.”
“Great! Oh and your mom doesn’t need to worry, I’m not so pushy as to attempt ‘closed door’ stuff already,” she said, grinning at me.
Damn it.
“Well, can we go check out this basement of yours?”
I refrained from sighing at her enthusiasm. “Okay, let’s go.”
We got to the door, and as I was mustering up the courage to open it and face whatever was down there, Carla shot her hand out and swung it open. She was already half way down the stairs before I realized what had happened.
“Hey, wait up.” I called as I found a light switch and flipped it on, heading after her.
At the bottom of the stairs, I could see that it was just a regular basement. It was old and dusty - pretty much what you’d expect. All our unpacked boxes were down here though, which meant dad must have been down here already.
“So, should we look for a cot?” Carla asked with a grin, clearly not taking this seriously at all. “Or maybe a rolled up blanket or a smelly jacket?”
I responded with silence. I felt it was deserved. I did start looking around though. For what I wasn’t really sure, but with Carla here helping me I felt a lot braver than I thought I would.
A half-hour of rummaging later revealed that this was, in fact, just a basement. No secret compartments or anything. No places a person could really hide. No evidence to suggest anyone had been down here at all.
“Hey look at this,” Carla called from the corner.
“Did you find something?”
She held up a small locket, dangling from a thin gold chain. It looked really old. “Is this your mom’s or something?”
I shook my head. “No, I’ve never seen it before. See I told you there was someone down here.” I said, taking the locket.
“Or,” she said, giving me a look, “The previous owners forgot it when they were moving. But your psycho hobo living in the basement theory makes sense too.”
Despite being mocked, I couldn’t help but smile. There didn’t seem to be anything to be afraid of down here after all.
We looked around a little while longer before deciding to head upstairs. Carla finished homework while we waited for supper. She wanted to close the door to mess with my mom but we decided not to push our luck. After dinner, I saw Carla out. She opened the door to leave and I stopped her.
“Hey, thanks for coming, and helping downstairs…I mean…um…” I fumbled for words that would express my gratitude and not make me look like a sissy when she stopped me.
“Anytime,” she smiled at me, then leaned forward and kissed me. Just a quick peck on the lips, but a kiss just the same. Seeing my expression, she frowned.
“Too soon?”
I smiled, a genuine doofy looking, ear to ear smile. “No, I mean, um…” Man I was stammering like an idiot. “Oh god please just go, this is embarrassing.”
She laughed. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said and closed the door behind her. I stared at it for a while before I realized what I was doing, and headed upstairs, still smiling ear to ear.
I didn’t want my parents to see that I was practically walking on air. I had an image, after all. So I avoided them for the next few hours until I went to sleep, thinking of how good a day it had been. The basement thing went well, and most of all, Carla and I seemed to be a couple now. Maybe; I mean I wasn’t really sure how it worked, but I thought it was a safe bet.
I slept pretty soundly until a noise woke me up. Groggily, I rolled over and checked my clock. 2:30 in the morning. I listened for a bit, trying to figure out what had woken me and heard footsteps outside in the hall.
Just one of my parents coming back from the bathroom, I figured as I drifted back to sleep.
Then I heard it. The chuckle. That grainy sandy raspy chuckle.
I was sure as hell awake now.
I listened as the footsteps got louder. How the hell could my parents not hear this?
And then they stopped.
And my door creaked open.
Jesus Christ, someone was in my room.
I was too terrified to do anything but pretend to be asleep. I could see a little bit of who it was, but it was too dark to see any details. Hunched over, with what looked to be a black robe on, a hood pulled over its head.
The figure came closer and it was all I could do not to scream. A long, claw like hand reached out and cupped my face, and I really thought I was going to die. Its grip was so cold. I should have screamed when I had the chance.
The chuckle again, and I could feel the heat of this thing’s foul breath on my face. Then its hand let go, and the figure shuffled back out, and I heard the bedroom door open and close.
And then I screamed.
Monday, July 13, 2009
A Chuckle (The New House Part II)
So it had been about two weeks since we moved in to this old heap, and to be honest I was surprised by how much my parents had been able to get done in that two week period. The house looked like it had been lived in for much longer than it actually had, which was good I suppose. I still hated the place, and my parents refused to believe that there was anything weird with the basement door or what lay beyond. Never mind the fact that the key they had for it didn’t work, and that they were in the process of getting a new one from the person who sold us this place.
Which meant no one had been down there yet. Which freaked me out. Like, a lot.
On the other hand though, school was going really well. Well as well as school could go I suppose. Which was to say that school sucked, except for this really pretty girl that made it worth going to; her name was Carla, and she wound up sitting beside me in English class on my first day. While our teacher had droned on and on about Of Mice and Men, we got to talking and found we actually had a lot in common.
She had just moved here with her parents as well, and she was really interested to hear about what we were doing with the house, which I thought was just as boring as Of Mice and Men, but apparently I was wrong because she looked really interested. Ever since then we had been spending most of our time together, which was really cool cause I never really had a girl interested in me before.
I got home a little later than usual, and my parents were delighted to hear I was studying with Carla after school. Yeah I know, it sounds lame but hell she could ask me to stick around and eat dirt and I’d still be late coming home. As I was heading up to my room, I heard a thumping, like someone coming up the stairs.
The Basement.
I looked at my mom, she apparently hadn’t heard anything, and was busily preparing dinner.
“Did we get the key to the basement?” I asked her, and she gave me a strange look.
“No not yet, why?”
“So…dad isn’t down there or anything?”
“Your father doesn’t get home from work for another hour honey, you know that.”
Which meant I was hearing things, or, and this is what I was banking on, this house was seriously messed up.
Despite my better judgment, I went to the basement door. And despite my better judgment, I put my ear to it again and listened.
What I heard will haunt me for the rest of my life.
It was a laugh. Dry and croaky, the voice like sandpaper, but it chuckled, and then I heard the sound of someone descending the stairs, the heavy footsteps making no effort to be quiet.
To say I was scared would be an understatement. That laugh…it chilled me to the bone, playing itself over and over in my mind. I couldn’t take it, I ran again. Despite promising myself that I wouldn’t. I ran all the way up to my room and huddled on my bed like a child, trying to get the laugh out of my head.
There was someone in the Basement. I knew whoever it was had heard me, and for whatever reason, my parents were oblivious. All I could do was hope that key got here soon, and my parents would take care of things. I hated myself for being so scared; after all, boys should be brave. But all I could think of was that laugh, and the sound of that person going back downstairs.
Someone living in our Basement, if only that was all it was.
Which meant no one had been down there yet. Which freaked me out. Like, a lot.
On the other hand though, school was going really well. Well as well as school could go I suppose. Which was to say that school sucked, except for this really pretty girl that made it worth going to; her name was Carla, and she wound up sitting beside me in English class on my first day. While our teacher had droned on and on about Of Mice and Men, we got to talking and found we actually had a lot in common.
She had just moved here with her parents as well, and she was really interested to hear about what we were doing with the house, which I thought was just as boring as Of Mice and Men, but apparently I was wrong because she looked really interested. Ever since then we had been spending most of our time together, which was really cool cause I never really had a girl interested in me before.
I got home a little later than usual, and my parents were delighted to hear I was studying with Carla after school. Yeah I know, it sounds lame but hell she could ask me to stick around and eat dirt and I’d still be late coming home. As I was heading up to my room, I heard a thumping, like someone coming up the stairs.
The Basement.
I looked at my mom, she apparently hadn’t heard anything, and was busily preparing dinner.
“Did we get the key to the basement?” I asked her, and she gave me a strange look.
“No not yet, why?”
“So…dad isn’t down there or anything?”
“Your father doesn’t get home from work for another hour honey, you know that.”
Which meant I was hearing things, or, and this is what I was banking on, this house was seriously messed up.
Despite my better judgment, I went to the basement door. And despite my better judgment, I put my ear to it again and listened.
What I heard will haunt me for the rest of my life.
It was a laugh. Dry and croaky, the voice like sandpaper, but it chuckled, and then I heard the sound of someone descending the stairs, the heavy footsteps making no effort to be quiet.
To say I was scared would be an understatement. That laugh…it chilled me to the bone, playing itself over and over in my mind. I couldn’t take it, I ran again. Despite promising myself that I wouldn’t. I ran all the way up to my room and huddled on my bed like a child, trying to get the laugh out of my head.
There was someone in the Basement. I knew whoever it was had heard me, and for whatever reason, my parents were oblivious. All I could do was hope that key got here soon, and my parents would take care of things. I hated myself for being so scared; after all, boys should be brave. But all I could think of was that laugh, and the sound of that person going back downstairs.
Someone living in our Basement, if only that was all it was.
First Day in a New House (The New House Part I)
You know, what I remember most about the whole ordeal isn’t all the things that happened, all the fear and the panic. It’s how it began that I remember most, which is funny because it was nothing out of the ordinary. I was in a room I had lived in barely long enough to call mine, and already I was packing up my things, taking my posters off the wall and rolling them into cylinders and pretending they were telescopes or whatever, right after it seemed like I had only just put them up. But my parents move a lot, so I was pretty used to this routine by now.
That didn’t mean it didn’t suck. Here I was trying to fit in as a regular fifteen year old boy, which is hard enough without my parents constantly making me the ‘new kid’ everywhere we go. My Mom had said it was because she and Dad had gotten better jobs that paid a lot more money than here in Edmonton. So we were leaving. And I was going to have to start all over. Again.
Sorry, I'm getting kind of ahead of myself here. My name is Ian, and they told me that sometimes when people have a really traumatic experience or whatever, it helps to write about it. Plus, it makes Carla feel better as well, since she's helping me write this. So here we go.
We pulled up to the house, and I had to admit, it was some kind of house. Like, really big. Like mansion big. Well maybe not that big, but you get the idea. It was old though, it had that gray gritty color that old houses have, and had the plants that climbed up the walls because no one had been around to take care of them.
My Dad said that was why they got it cheap, said it was a ‘fixer-upper.’ I called it a hole, but they didn’t care. You could practically see the dollar signs in their eyes, you know, like in those cartoons. They got that way about money. ‘Maximum efficiency for minimum effort’ my Dad always said, which I basically interpreted as being cheap, but he didn’t like hearing that much. I figured I wasn't the first person to tell him that.
We began unloading our bags and bringing them into the house. I didn’t have a lot of stuff, so as soon as I finished I decided to go take a look around. I was an only child, so I didn’t have to worry about calling a room or anything like that but I was still curious. The entrance was pretty big, but really dirty. Mom said the cleaning people would be here tomorrow so we’d just have to deal with it tonight. I checked out the main floor first. It was about what you’d expect I suppose, living room, dining room, kitchen, just bigger.
I checked out the top floor next, with all the bedrooms, way more than we needed, and it was then that I could have sworn I heard a noise. Peering out the window I saw my parents were still outside so it couldn’t have been them. I listened real closely, and I knew something was…well…off - is I guess the best way to put it.
For some reason, just then I remembered my Dad talking about how he had heard people talking about how things seemed to be different lately. Like there was a noticeable change between today and yesterday, and other than the fact that it had been raining a heck of a lot more some places that usual, no one could really put their finger on it. But everyone agreed that something had changed.
I shook it off and kept looking around, eventually making my way downstairs and through the kitchen, eventually winding up at a door at the end of a hall. I tried the knob and found it was locked. I assumed it went to the basement, and I was gonna see if I could see under the door when I heard a creak just beyond it. I practically jumped out of my skin. There was something just on the other side of the door, I was sure.
I put my ear to the door, trying to listen closer, and just as I did the door started to shake. I mean really shake, like smashing back and forth so hard I thought the hinges were gonna burst off and the whole thing was gonna come crashing down on me.
I freaked. I ran, as fast as I could, away from the door and didn’t stop until I was outside.
I caught my breath on the front lawn, having made it out in record time I’m sure. I told my parents there was no way I was going back inside. I told them something was really wrong in there and that we needed to leave right now, pack our bags back up and drive very far away. But my Dad said I was just homesick and my Mom said that boys didn’t get scared by little noises in old houses. Little noise my ass but they weren’t hearing me anymore, so I helped my parents unload the rest of our junk until it was all done so I could calm down.
Boys didn’t get scared huh. I can’t tell you how wrong she was, and it was only going to get worse.
That didn’t mean it didn’t suck. Here I was trying to fit in as a regular fifteen year old boy, which is hard enough without my parents constantly making me the ‘new kid’ everywhere we go. My Mom had said it was because she and Dad had gotten better jobs that paid a lot more money than here in Edmonton. So we were leaving. And I was going to have to start all over. Again.
Sorry, I'm getting kind of ahead of myself here. My name is Ian, and they told me that sometimes when people have a really traumatic experience or whatever, it helps to write about it. Plus, it makes Carla feel better as well, since she's helping me write this. So here we go.
We pulled up to the house, and I had to admit, it was some kind of house. Like, really big. Like mansion big. Well maybe not that big, but you get the idea. It was old though, it had that gray gritty color that old houses have, and had the plants that climbed up the walls because no one had been around to take care of them.
My Dad said that was why they got it cheap, said it was a ‘fixer-upper.’ I called it a hole, but they didn’t care. You could practically see the dollar signs in their eyes, you know, like in those cartoons. They got that way about money. ‘Maximum efficiency for minimum effort’ my Dad always said, which I basically interpreted as being cheap, but he didn’t like hearing that much. I figured I wasn't the first person to tell him that.
We began unloading our bags and bringing them into the house. I didn’t have a lot of stuff, so as soon as I finished I decided to go take a look around. I was an only child, so I didn’t have to worry about calling a room or anything like that but I was still curious. The entrance was pretty big, but really dirty. Mom said the cleaning people would be here tomorrow so we’d just have to deal with it tonight. I checked out the main floor first. It was about what you’d expect I suppose, living room, dining room, kitchen, just bigger.
I checked out the top floor next, with all the bedrooms, way more than we needed, and it was then that I could have sworn I heard a noise. Peering out the window I saw my parents were still outside so it couldn’t have been them. I listened real closely, and I knew something was…well…off - is I guess the best way to put it.
For some reason, just then I remembered my Dad talking about how he had heard people talking about how things seemed to be different lately. Like there was a noticeable change between today and yesterday, and other than the fact that it had been raining a heck of a lot more some places that usual, no one could really put their finger on it. But everyone agreed that something had changed.
I shook it off and kept looking around, eventually making my way downstairs and through the kitchen, eventually winding up at a door at the end of a hall. I tried the knob and found it was locked. I assumed it went to the basement, and I was gonna see if I could see under the door when I heard a creak just beyond it. I practically jumped out of my skin. There was something just on the other side of the door, I was sure.
I put my ear to the door, trying to listen closer, and just as I did the door started to shake. I mean really shake, like smashing back and forth so hard I thought the hinges were gonna burst off and the whole thing was gonna come crashing down on me.
I freaked. I ran, as fast as I could, away from the door and didn’t stop until I was outside.
I caught my breath on the front lawn, having made it out in record time I’m sure. I told my parents there was no way I was going back inside. I told them something was really wrong in there and that we needed to leave right now, pack our bags back up and drive very far away. But my Dad said I was just homesick and my Mom said that boys didn’t get scared by little noises in old houses. Little noise my ass but they weren’t hearing me anymore, so I helped my parents unload the rest of our junk until it was all done so I could calm down.
Boys didn’t get scared huh. I can’t tell you how wrong she was, and it was only going to get worse.
Thursday, July 9, 2009
Something Absolute (The Girl With the Dead Eyes Part IX)
It was raining again, big surprise there. It had been raining a lot recently, slamming against his window, the only thing letting him know the outside world was still there. If any of his sense of humor still remained, he’d have laughed at the absurdity of it all. For all his power, he was unable to do anything about the leather straps keeping him to this damn bed, stuck in this tiny room, the sound of the rain tormenting him with its consistency. It was enough to drive a man insane, although seeing as the people keeping him here had already dubbed him insane, they probably didn’t care much.
They sedated him every night, ensuring his sleep was blank, dreamless. He hadn’t figured out if they were doing that deliberately to keep his power dormant, or if they were just jerks. He personally banked on the latter.
Ever since he went to therapy, his life had steadily gotten worse. Struggling to get over the sudden departure of his long-time girlfriend, he had hoped that therapy would help him get his life back on track. What joke that turned out to be. He remembered tracking her down to a fancy nightclub one night, he remembered how beautiful she looked on the dance floor, laughing and smiling and having the time of her life, all because she was free of him. It had been the hardest thing he had ever had to do, but he had walked away from her then, and she had never even known he was there. He wondered how his life might have taken a different turn had he tried one last time to make things better with her that night.
It was that night he discovered his power.
The dreams were so vivid, so real. When he woke up, he could have sworn that they had actually happened. As it turned out, he wasn’t far from the truth. Everything he dreamt came true; carried over to the real world. He had dreamt his dog back to life, and there he was. He had dreamt he could fly, and then he could fly. At first it was wonderful; he finally had the power to make things right between them, to reunite with his lost love. So he kept dreaming, all the while hoping, praying, that that night would be the night they were reunited.
And then he dreamt of her.
Not his wayward love. No it was a deranged manifestation of her, it was the most terrifying nightmare he had ever had, and he knew his power had made her manifest. He had dreamt of an unstoppable demon in her image.
She was strong and cunning, with lifeless eyes lacking a soul. He had tried to stop her, tried to tell someone, but they locked him up, claimed he was insane, and had kept him drugged ever since.
They were late tonight; they should have been here by now to sedate him. He tried to listen for their footsteps but could only hear the rain.
Just then, slowly, the heavy door creaked open, and when he craned his neck to look his eyes filled with dread.
A woman, dressed all in black, stepped slowly into his room, her eyes never leaving his, piercing his soul with their gaze. His body froze, and suddenly he was wracked with chills, worse than any fever he had ever had. It was like the temperature of the room had suddenly plummeted. A black sludge was dripping steadily from the woman and had covered the floor. Now it was making its way up the walls, onto the ceiling, and suddenly the whole room was cast into absolute darkness. All he could see was himself and this creature, black tendrils dancing from her form and moving ever closer to him.
It was her. She had changed greatly, but he knew. He knew that this was the demon he created. And now she had found him.
“His blood granted me his knowledge.” She spoke, her voice like velvet. He could only stare in horror as she sat at the foot of his bed, her hand running absently up his leg, her touch leaving darkness in its wake. He was disappearing, he realized quickly. He was being eaten alive by the darkness.
“I know I began as a figment of your rather vivid imagination, as a part of you. Now I have come to make you a part of me. I will free you from this life, and in so doing, grant you the peace you desire.”
He listened to her, had heard her voice, but only heard her words a moment later and began to struggle fiercely against his restraints. She was going to kill him. He was going to die.
The tendrils tore his restraints with ease and wrapped around his body, pulling him to her chest, like a mother cradling her child. Unlike her hands, the tendrils were warm, almost soothing, and as they rocked him ever slightly back and forth, he found himself being lulled asleep. Not the forced sleep he was used to in this place, but a real genuine rest.
This wasn’t so bad, he thought as he relaxed his body. With one last glance at her face, he found she was looking down at him, smiling. And then he let his eyes close, and accepted the darkness.
His power was hers now, and he was happy to be rid of the burden. Let her have it, let her do with it what she will.
Once The Girl With the Dead Eyes, once The Final Nightmare, and now something even more powerful. Something all together new in this world. Something Absolute.
They sedated him every night, ensuring his sleep was blank, dreamless. He hadn’t figured out if they were doing that deliberately to keep his power dormant, or if they were just jerks. He personally banked on the latter.
Ever since he went to therapy, his life had steadily gotten worse. Struggling to get over the sudden departure of his long-time girlfriend, he had hoped that therapy would help him get his life back on track. What joke that turned out to be. He remembered tracking her down to a fancy nightclub one night, he remembered how beautiful she looked on the dance floor, laughing and smiling and having the time of her life, all because she was free of him. It had been the hardest thing he had ever had to do, but he had walked away from her then, and she had never even known he was there. He wondered how his life might have taken a different turn had he tried one last time to make things better with her that night.
It was that night he discovered his power.
The dreams were so vivid, so real. When he woke up, he could have sworn that they had actually happened. As it turned out, he wasn’t far from the truth. Everything he dreamt came true; carried over to the real world. He had dreamt his dog back to life, and there he was. He had dreamt he could fly, and then he could fly. At first it was wonderful; he finally had the power to make things right between them, to reunite with his lost love. So he kept dreaming, all the while hoping, praying, that that night would be the night they were reunited.
And then he dreamt of her.
Not his wayward love. No it was a deranged manifestation of her, it was the most terrifying nightmare he had ever had, and he knew his power had made her manifest. He had dreamt of an unstoppable demon in her image.
She was strong and cunning, with lifeless eyes lacking a soul. He had tried to stop her, tried to tell someone, but they locked him up, claimed he was insane, and had kept him drugged ever since.
They were late tonight; they should have been here by now to sedate him. He tried to listen for their footsteps but could only hear the rain.
Just then, slowly, the heavy door creaked open, and when he craned his neck to look his eyes filled with dread.
A woman, dressed all in black, stepped slowly into his room, her eyes never leaving his, piercing his soul with their gaze. His body froze, and suddenly he was wracked with chills, worse than any fever he had ever had. It was like the temperature of the room had suddenly plummeted. A black sludge was dripping steadily from the woman and had covered the floor. Now it was making its way up the walls, onto the ceiling, and suddenly the whole room was cast into absolute darkness. All he could see was himself and this creature, black tendrils dancing from her form and moving ever closer to him.
It was her. She had changed greatly, but he knew. He knew that this was the demon he created. And now she had found him.
“His blood granted me his knowledge.” She spoke, her voice like velvet. He could only stare in horror as she sat at the foot of his bed, her hand running absently up his leg, her touch leaving darkness in its wake. He was disappearing, he realized quickly. He was being eaten alive by the darkness.
“I know I began as a figment of your rather vivid imagination, as a part of you. Now I have come to make you a part of me. I will free you from this life, and in so doing, grant you the peace you desire.”
He listened to her, had heard her voice, but only heard her words a moment later and began to struggle fiercely against his restraints. She was going to kill him. He was going to die.
The tendrils tore his restraints with ease and wrapped around his body, pulling him to her chest, like a mother cradling her child. Unlike her hands, the tendrils were warm, almost soothing, and as they rocked him ever slightly back and forth, he found himself being lulled asleep. Not the forced sleep he was used to in this place, but a real genuine rest.
This wasn’t so bad, he thought as he relaxed his body. With one last glance at her face, he found she was looking down at him, smiling. And then he let his eyes close, and accepted the darkness.
His power was hers now, and he was happy to be rid of the burden. Let her have it, let her do with it what she will.
Once The Girl With the Dead Eyes, once The Final Nightmare, and now something even more powerful. Something all together new in this world. Something Absolute.
Crimson Birth of The Midnight Child (The Girl With the Dead Eyes Part VIII)
The Angel, The Demon, both locked in their never-ending struggle, each vying to bring about a new world with the other’s blood. Truly there could never be a more glorious battle. Or at least, that’s what her Master would say.
To the Girl With the Dead Eyes, who perched in the rafters of the church watching the battle below, this was all a means to an end. She had no idea just what sort of personal history her Master and the Inquisitor had, but despite what may have occurred between them in the past, her Master, a truly frivolous fool, seriously believed he was the star of his own personal epic, and was battling as such. She however, was not so delusional. There was no glory here, no sense of honor or pride, and certainly no reason to fight the Inquisitor other than the fact that he was the next step in her evolution.
The plan was simple, her Master distracted the Inquisitor long enough to provide an opening, then she would leap down to attack. Her Master would capitalize on the distraction, and the fight would be over. However, knowing the Inquisitor, he would see the attack coming in time to counter swiftly, leaving no such opening. Which was why they had sired another of their kind to go first.
She turned her gaze to the whelp beside her. He was watching the fight intently, still adjusting to the capabilities of his new body. The boy was barely sixteen in his old life, barely a week old in his new one. Tricking him with promises of understanding and belonging, playing upon his depression, it had been easy to lure him to their side willingly. He would attack first, no doubt being obliterated by the vastly more powerful and experienced Inquisitor, but his death and her attack would create the necessary distraction.
At least, that was her Master’s plan.
The battle waged for a few more moments, both figures blurs of claws and fangs before she saw it. Her Master fell back, just a fraction of a foot, and hesitated, for just the tiniest part of a second, and the Inquisitor, for the briefest of moments, was off balance. The signal to attack.
“Go now!” She hissed at the boy, who leapt from the rafters immediately, claws and fangs aimed at the Angel. A good little soldier. She leapt immediately after him.
As expected, the Inquisitor turned and saw the attack coming. A smirk crossed his face as he raised his hand to the sky. The heavens growled and obeyed his command, the storm seemingly eager to join the battle, and lashed out with a blast of lightening, smashing though the old roof and slamming the whelp in the chest; burning his body to ash before it hit the floor. It didn’t matter. With the Inquisitor distracted, the Girl With the Dead Eyes found her target, and her fangs plunged deep into his neck.
In her arms, her Master’s body jerked, his blood now flowing freely into her mouth as she drank him dry. This, she had learned, would give her the strength she needed. All the power of her Master, all the power of her kind, resided in the blood, their life force. Now she would add his strength to her own. She continued to drink even as his body started to wither and decay, even as he looked upon his childe with unparalleled fury in his eyes. She would consume more than just his life force, or his power. She would not stop until she had drank his very soul. Finally, when there was nothing left, when the mighty demon that was once her Master had turned to dust in her arms, she turned to face the Inquisitor.
She had made sure to save room. After all, the main course was yet to come.
Waiting until the demon hunter, the divine Angle of retribution, had shaken off the disgust that had overwhelmed him at the cannibalistic display of treachery, she launched her attack, taking her Master’s place in the battle between Angels and Demons, her claws and fangs clashing with the Inquisitor.
She had wondered why her Master had stayed her attack the first time they saw the Inquisitor destroy her childe in an alley outside a ratty nightclub. Now she knew. The Angel was a terrifying force to confront. His power was immense, his attacks nearly impossible to predict. The storm itself seemed to be an extension of his will, lightning striking anywhere she dared stay for more than a few seconds, the rain pelting against her skin through the holes the lightning made, yet never touching its master. Had she confronted him before, she would have been destroyed in an instant.
Yet as powerful as the Angel was, his strength was fading, while hers was overflowing. He had never been pushed like this. A ferocious slash of her claws, and she caught the Angel across his chest. For the first time since before the flood, an Inquisitor was wounded.
The Inquisitor recoiled in pain, his hand coming to his chest. Today, in this battle, he was outmatched, for the first time in his long existence. Had she been at her normal level, he could have destroyed her as easily as he did the annoyance earlier. But now, after fighting with her Master, and her transformation into this new state, his strength was no longer enough. Perhaps if he had time to rest, then maybe - but now - now she would transform again, and this time, the outcome would be far more terrifying.
She pressed her attack with all her strength, determined to bring the Inquisitor down. Despite his wounds, he was still doing an admirable job of dodging and countering, but she could tell this battle nearing its conclusion. She dodged to the side and, catching his wrist, pulled the Angel towards her. No longer possessing the strength to match her, the Inquisitor was yanked forward into the fangs of the Demon, which sank into his neck and caused his blood to flow into her eager mouth.
This was it, this was the end.
His blood was unlike any other, and the Girl With the Dead Eyes reveled in it. She drank deeply of the blood of Angels, letting it fill her very being, letting it consume her with its warmth. All the power of the Inquisitor, the only thing to hunt her kind, and now it would be hers. The Final Nightmare would be born.
She let the body drop from her arms only when there was not a drop left and wiped her mouth, allowing herself a brief grin in triumph. Outside the storm intensified, and the heavens wept openly at the death of one of their own. The thunder crashed with rage, the wind howled with anger, and the lightening struck the ground, trying to strike the abomination from the earth. From within her, darkness pooled, welling up inside of her until it could no longer be contained. The transformation had begun. Her body, now unnecessary, exploded outwards as the overwhelming darkness took her soul and clung to it, manifesting itself as a new, sentient entity.
The darkness, like a black fluid, shaped itself to take the form of her previous shell. This new body took a step forward, then another, an extension of darkness, of death. Tendrils of pure unshaped evil extended from its shape and writhed at the air around it. Where it stood, darkness fell like dripping water and pooled at its feet, surrounding it in a milky circle, ever growing.
At last, when the transformation was complete, she opened her eyes; the only aspect of her that had remained unchanged, and turned her gaze to the world, seeing for the first time.
The Final Nightmare had been born, and it had been born from the Girl With the Dead Eyes.
To the Girl With the Dead Eyes, who perched in the rafters of the church watching the battle below, this was all a means to an end. She had no idea just what sort of personal history her Master and the Inquisitor had, but despite what may have occurred between them in the past, her Master, a truly frivolous fool, seriously believed he was the star of his own personal epic, and was battling as such. She however, was not so delusional. There was no glory here, no sense of honor or pride, and certainly no reason to fight the Inquisitor other than the fact that he was the next step in her evolution.
The plan was simple, her Master distracted the Inquisitor long enough to provide an opening, then she would leap down to attack. Her Master would capitalize on the distraction, and the fight would be over. However, knowing the Inquisitor, he would see the attack coming in time to counter swiftly, leaving no such opening. Which was why they had sired another of their kind to go first.
She turned her gaze to the whelp beside her. He was watching the fight intently, still adjusting to the capabilities of his new body. The boy was barely sixteen in his old life, barely a week old in his new one. Tricking him with promises of understanding and belonging, playing upon his depression, it had been easy to lure him to their side willingly. He would attack first, no doubt being obliterated by the vastly more powerful and experienced Inquisitor, but his death and her attack would create the necessary distraction.
At least, that was her Master’s plan.
The battle waged for a few more moments, both figures blurs of claws and fangs before she saw it. Her Master fell back, just a fraction of a foot, and hesitated, for just the tiniest part of a second, and the Inquisitor, for the briefest of moments, was off balance. The signal to attack.
“Go now!” She hissed at the boy, who leapt from the rafters immediately, claws and fangs aimed at the Angel. A good little soldier. She leapt immediately after him.
As expected, the Inquisitor turned and saw the attack coming. A smirk crossed his face as he raised his hand to the sky. The heavens growled and obeyed his command, the storm seemingly eager to join the battle, and lashed out with a blast of lightening, smashing though the old roof and slamming the whelp in the chest; burning his body to ash before it hit the floor. It didn’t matter. With the Inquisitor distracted, the Girl With the Dead Eyes found her target, and her fangs plunged deep into his neck.
In her arms, her Master’s body jerked, his blood now flowing freely into her mouth as she drank him dry. This, she had learned, would give her the strength she needed. All the power of her Master, all the power of her kind, resided in the blood, their life force. Now she would add his strength to her own. She continued to drink even as his body started to wither and decay, even as he looked upon his childe with unparalleled fury in his eyes. She would consume more than just his life force, or his power. She would not stop until she had drank his very soul. Finally, when there was nothing left, when the mighty demon that was once her Master had turned to dust in her arms, she turned to face the Inquisitor.
She had made sure to save room. After all, the main course was yet to come.
Waiting until the demon hunter, the divine Angle of retribution, had shaken off the disgust that had overwhelmed him at the cannibalistic display of treachery, she launched her attack, taking her Master’s place in the battle between Angels and Demons, her claws and fangs clashing with the Inquisitor.
She had wondered why her Master had stayed her attack the first time they saw the Inquisitor destroy her childe in an alley outside a ratty nightclub. Now she knew. The Angel was a terrifying force to confront. His power was immense, his attacks nearly impossible to predict. The storm itself seemed to be an extension of his will, lightning striking anywhere she dared stay for more than a few seconds, the rain pelting against her skin through the holes the lightning made, yet never touching its master. Had she confronted him before, she would have been destroyed in an instant.
Yet as powerful as the Angel was, his strength was fading, while hers was overflowing. He had never been pushed like this. A ferocious slash of her claws, and she caught the Angel across his chest. For the first time since before the flood, an Inquisitor was wounded.
The Inquisitor recoiled in pain, his hand coming to his chest. Today, in this battle, he was outmatched, for the first time in his long existence. Had she been at her normal level, he could have destroyed her as easily as he did the annoyance earlier. But now, after fighting with her Master, and her transformation into this new state, his strength was no longer enough. Perhaps if he had time to rest, then maybe - but now - now she would transform again, and this time, the outcome would be far more terrifying.
She pressed her attack with all her strength, determined to bring the Inquisitor down. Despite his wounds, he was still doing an admirable job of dodging and countering, but she could tell this battle nearing its conclusion. She dodged to the side and, catching his wrist, pulled the Angel towards her. No longer possessing the strength to match her, the Inquisitor was yanked forward into the fangs of the Demon, which sank into his neck and caused his blood to flow into her eager mouth.
This was it, this was the end.
His blood was unlike any other, and the Girl With the Dead Eyes reveled in it. She drank deeply of the blood of Angels, letting it fill her very being, letting it consume her with its warmth. All the power of the Inquisitor, the only thing to hunt her kind, and now it would be hers. The Final Nightmare would be born.
She let the body drop from her arms only when there was not a drop left and wiped her mouth, allowing herself a brief grin in triumph. Outside the storm intensified, and the heavens wept openly at the death of one of their own. The thunder crashed with rage, the wind howled with anger, and the lightening struck the ground, trying to strike the abomination from the earth. From within her, darkness pooled, welling up inside of her until it could no longer be contained. The transformation had begun. Her body, now unnecessary, exploded outwards as the overwhelming darkness took her soul and clung to it, manifesting itself as a new, sentient entity.
The darkness, like a black fluid, shaped itself to take the form of her previous shell. This new body took a step forward, then another, an extension of darkness, of death. Tendrils of pure unshaped evil extended from its shape and writhed at the air around it. Where it stood, darkness fell like dripping water and pooled at its feet, surrounding it in a milky circle, ever growing.
At last, when the transformation was complete, she opened her eyes; the only aspect of her that had remained unchanged, and turned her gaze to the world, seeing for the first time.
The Final Nightmare had been born, and it had been born from the Girl With the Dead Eyes.
Inevitable Conflict (The Girl With the Dead Eyes Part VII)
The great killer known only as the Inquisitor clenched his fists and steeled himself for what was to come, his gaze fixated on the towering building before him. Seemingly in preparation for the conflict, Heaven had unleashed its most powerful downpour yet; the rain actually coming down hard enough to be painful as the Inquisitor made his way up the steps to the imposing house of God, made a mockery by the demons that nested there.
He was sure this was a trap, after all, he had experience hunting this particular monster and knew him to be cunning and resourceful. But after tracking him across the globe to this location, he would not pass up the opportunity for vengeance. Clearing his head of doubts, the Inquisitor strode forward, summoned his strength, and pushed the doors open.
There, at the far end, beneath an alter of Jesus Christ, knelt his target. He couldn’t help but feel rage boil up within him, to see this devil mock prayer in such a way. Yet the Inquisitor was no fool, and rather than attack, he examined his surroundings carefully. If the Master was here, so was the Childe, and both would be hungering for his blood, the blood of Angels, the key needed for these monsters to transform themselves from abominations created by a spark of divinity gone awry, into true demons.
The Final Nightmare. There had been only one before, and its power so great that God himself intervened and unleashed a purging rain upon the Earth, washing away all things tainted by the demon.
The Inquisitor knew, better than any, just how close to the birth of another demon they were.
As the Master stood, his prayer apparently finished, the eyes of a divine Angel of retribution met with the eyes of an Angel of death brought to the world by a false God, and a solemn vow was exchanged. They both knew that this was the end.
After tonight, the world would change. One way or another.
He was sure this was a trap, after all, he had experience hunting this particular monster and knew him to be cunning and resourceful. But after tracking him across the globe to this location, he would not pass up the opportunity for vengeance. Clearing his head of doubts, the Inquisitor strode forward, summoned his strength, and pushed the doors open.
There, at the far end, beneath an alter of Jesus Christ, knelt his target. He couldn’t help but feel rage boil up within him, to see this devil mock prayer in such a way. Yet the Inquisitor was no fool, and rather than attack, he examined his surroundings carefully. If the Master was here, so was the Childe, and both would be hungering for his blood, the blood of Angels, the key needed for these monsters to transform themselves from abominations created by a spark of divinity gone awry, into true demons.
The Final Nightmare. There had been only one before, and its power so great that God himself intervened and unleashed a purging rain upon the Earth, washing away all things tainted by the demon.
The Inquisitor knew, better than any, just how close to the birth of another demon they were.
As the Master stood, his prayer apparently finished, the eyes of a divine Angel of retribution met with the eyes of an Angel of death brought to the world by a false God, and a solemn vow was exchanged. They both knew that this was the end.
After tonight, the world would change. One way or another.
Monday, July 6, 2009
Everyone Has Nightmares (The Girl With the Dead Eyes Part VI)
“Admiring the view? I trust it is to your satisfaction, though not as high up as your old therapist’s office, but given the circumstances perhaps that is for the best.”
“Yeah…I…”
“Come now, step away from the window and get comfortable. We’re not going to get to the bottom of anything with you pacing back and forth like that.”
“Sorry, I’m just used to my old therapist’s approach; he was a lot less rigid.”
“You think I’m rigid? Perhaps I could stand to relax a little, but I don’t think that approach worked for you before, so why should it work now?”
“I suppose...”
“Do you still feel bad about what happened?”
“I…how could you ask me that…? I mean, if I hadn’t felt like I had something to prove, then maybe…”
“Which is why you never went to another therapist; you were, and still are, I suspect, afraid you may have something to prove.”
“Maybe…”
“But you see you don’t have anything to prove, not to me, because I believe you. How could I not, after what happened.”
“I suppose so…”
“He was a good friend of mine you know. We both came up in the same class, graduated first and second in the college; we were the best in the business. That’s why I sought you out, why I’m giving you such a discount for my services, because if he couldn’t help you, then the only one who can is me.”
“What I’m dealing with isn’t something you can just talk through.”
“Oh believe me I know. In fact, I read the last few pages of his notebook; would you like to hear the last thing he wrote?”
“I’m not sure that’s…”
“X year, X month, X day: The patient spent the duration of today’s session in a state of confusion. There was obviously something he wanted to tell me, but it seemed like he couldn’t find the words. Rather than prod it out of him, I allowed him the time necessary to articulate his thoughts. Finally, he said that he had been having dreams. When I asked him to describe these dreams in more detail, he said he couldn't. Then he cut our time short and said he would see me next week.
X year X month X day: This is impossible, my hands continue to shake as I write this, he…he said his dreams are his reality, that he makes his dreams come true in the most literal sense. He just flew out my window, like a bird, just flew away, this man. He said he can bring people back from the dead…he can fly…my God he can fly…wait…if he can do these things…maybe he is a god…he can create life…he can fly…no…no he’s just a man…he’s just a man…but wait, I’m just a man too…that means…that means I can fly…ha ha ha ha…I can fly…I’m going to fly out my window, just like he did…ha ha…right now, and be free…like a bird…”
“Please…no more…”
“And then he leapt from his 47th floor office window, and, much to his disappointment I would imagine, did not fly.”
“I know…I know…it’s all my fault, all I’m doing is killing people…”
“Get a hold of yourself, you're making a mess. How are you killing people?”
“What…?”
“You said you were killing people, just now. What did you mean?”
“….”
“You’ve come this far, now is the time to come clean. You’re chained to all your failures in life: your wife leaving you, your dead end job, your pitiful state of living, and now, even with what appears to be all the power in the world, you still can’t make your real dreams come true. Your wife isn’t in your arms; you still have no money, no sense of self worth. Come clean with me here and now, and we can begin to start over, to build the life you deserve.”
“I dreamt them…and they came true…”
“What came true?”
“The…demons…out there…when it rains…because of them…”
“What do you mean?”
“I have dreams, but I also have nightmares…and those come true as well.”
“What are your nightmares about?”
“You don’t get it; they’re out there, hunting us, killing people…she’ll kill everyone…”
“Who will? Who is ‘she’?”
“What…?”
“You said ‘she’ll kill everyone’, who is ‘she’?”
“The Final Nightmare…it’s coming…”
“The Final Nightmare?”
“The Girl…she’s going to do it…I dreamt it, I saw everyone die…I know it will come true…The Girl With the Dead Eyes…”
“Girl With the Dead Eyes, how very interesting. Well, that should be enough notes for the time being, I suppose you all can come in now.”
“What…?”
“These men will be escorting you into custody - for your own safety of course. It is my professional opinion, as well as that of the state, that you be remanded to the nearest psychiatric hospital, where you will be placed under constant surveillance until such a time that you are deemed no longer a threat to society, or to yourself.”
“No! No! You can’t do this! I have to stop her…I have to…let go of me…get your hands off of me! You don’t understand…she’ll kill you all!”
“Yes yes, the Girl With the Dead Eyes, don't worry I will be sure to keep a look out.”
“You’re all dead! If we don’t stop her…we’re all going to die…”
“Gentlemen please hurry; I would like to eat my lunch in relative peace and quiet, perhaps a sedative…ah, thank you gentlemen. Do take care of him now; he will be a most remarkable study. A man who firmly believes he can turn his dreams to reality, a man who truly believes his nightmares have damned us all…how fascinating…how fascinating.”
“Yeah…I…”
“Come now, step away from the window and get comfortable. We’re not going to get to the bottom of anything with you pacing back and forth like that.”
“Sorry, I’m just used to my old therapist’s approach; he was a lot less rigid.”
“You think I’m rigid? Perhaps I could stand to relax a little, but I don’t think that approach worked for you before, so why should it work now?”
“I suppose...”
“Do you still feel bad about what happened?”
“I…how could you ask me that…? I mean, if I hadn’t felt like I had something to prove, then maybe…”
“Which is why you never went to another therapist; you were, and still are, I suspect, afraid you may have something to prove.”
“Maybe…”
“But you see you don’t have anything to prove, not to me, because I believe you. How could I not, after what happened.”
“I suppose so…”
“He was a good friend of mine you know. We both came up in the same class, graduated first and second in the college; we were the best in the business. That’s why I sought you out, why I’m giving you such a discount for my services, because if he couldn’t help you, then the only one who can is me.”
“What I’m dealing with isn’t something you can just talk through.”
“Oh believe me I know. In fact, I read the last few pages of his notebook; would you like to hear the last thing he wrote?”
“I’m not sure that’s…”
“X year, X month, X day: The patient spent the duration of today’s session in a state of confusion. There was obviously something he wanted to tell me, but it seemed like he couldn’t find the words. Rather than prod it out of him, I allowed him the time necessary to articulate his thoughts. Finally, he said that he had been having dreams. When I asked him to describe these dreams in more detail, he said he couldn't. Then he cut our time short and said he would see me next week.
X year X month X day: This is impossible, my hands continue to shake as I write this, he…he said his dreams are his reality, that he makes his dreams come true in the most literal sense. He just flew out my window, like a bird, just flew away, this man. He said he can bring people back from the dead…he can fly…my God he can fly…wait…if he can do these things…maybe he is a god…he can create life…he can fly…no…no he’s just a man…he’s just a man…but wait, I’m just a man too…that means…that means I can fly…ha ha ha ha…I can fly…I’m going to fly out my window, just like he did…ha ha…right now, and be free…like a bird…”
“Please…no more…”
“And then he leapt from his 47th floor office window, and, much to his disappointment I would imagine, did not fly.”
“I know…I know…it’s all my fault, all I’m doing is killing people…”
“Get a hold of yourself, you're making a mess. How are you killing people?”
“What…?”
“You said you were killing people, just now. What did you mean?”
“….”
“You’ve come this far, now is the time to come clean. You’re chained to all your failures in life: your wife leaving you, your dead end job, your pitiful state of living, and now, even with what appears to be all the power in the world, you still can’t make your real dreams come true. Your wife isn’t in your arms; you still have no money, no sense of self worth. Come clean with me here and now, and we can begin to start over, to build the life you deserve.”
“I dreamt them…and they came true…”
“What came true?”
“The…demons…out there…when it rains…because of them…”
“What do you mean?”
“I have dreams, but I also have nightmares…and those come true as well.”
“What are your nightmares about?”
“You don’t get it; they’re out there, hunting us, killing people…she’ll kill everyone…”
“Who will? Who is ‘she’?”
“What…?”
“You said ‘she’ll kill everyone’, who is ‘she’?”
“The Final Nightmare…it’s coming…”
“The Final Nightmare?”
“The Girl…she’s going to do it…I dreamt it, I saw everyone die…I know it will come true…The Girl With the Dead Eyes…”
“Girl With the Dead Eyes, how very interesting. Well, that should be enough notes for the time being, I suppose you all can come in now.”
“What…?”
“These men will be escorting you into custody - for your own safety of course. It is my professional opinion, as well as that of the state, that you be remanded to the nearest psychiatric hospital, where you will be placed under constant surveillance until such a time that you are deemed no longer a threat to society, or to yourself.”
“No! No! You can’t do this! I have to stop her…I have to…let go of me…get your hands off of me! You don’t understand…she’ll kill you all!”
“Yes yes, the Girl With the Dead Eyes, don't worry I will be sure to keep a look out.”
“You’re all dead! If we don’t stop her…we’re all going to die…”
“Gentlemen please hurry; I would like to eat my lunch in relative peace and quiet, perhaps a sedative…ah, thank you gentlemen. Do take care of him now; he will be a most remarkable study. A man who firmly believes he can turn his dreams to reality, a man who truly believes his nightmares have damned us all…how fascinating…how fascinating.”
Friday, July 3, 2009
The Inquisitor (The Girl With the Dead Eyes Part V)
Only when the rain had washed away the last remnants of what was once a deadly beast did the man turn and leave the alley, his work for the night finished. Yet even his keen senses proved unable to detect the twin gazes focused on him, watching him closely, the same twin gazes that had studied his every move during his brief encounter with the monster.
From their perch on a building above, they shared a brief glance, one set of eyes cold and dead, the other just the opposite, full of fire and passion. For a brief moment, the Girl With the Dead Eyes considered asking the one she called Master why he had held her back, why he hadn’t let her intervene to save her childe, but decided against it. After all, she had cared little for the childe, she had created it as more an experiment than anything else. A way to learn more about her true nature.
“I have known that man for a long time,” her Master spoke, his voice soft and melodic. “He has pursued me for countless years. A type of monster that hunts not just humans, but our kind as well. A predator who preys on predators, he is the ultimate killer. They are called Inquisitors, after the witch-hunters of old.”
He smiled then, and she gave him her full attention.
“But the Inquisitor is also the ultimate prey. His blood grants great power to our kind. By drinking it, we evolve into the purest form of monster. We become what our legends have called The Final Nightmare.”
Listening closely, her eyes flickered briefly with realization.
She had been created, and had created another, solely for the purpose of luring the Inquisitor to them, so that her Master could drink his blood and gain power. Her Master knew the Inquisitor would hunt him, and he would use that knowledge to bait him into a trap. Ultimately, she realized, her existence was little more than a trail of bread crumbs.
She moved down from her spot on the roof, her mind racing, while the rain, sensing that the monsters were done for the night, began to let up. If her Master thought he could manipulate her for his own ends, he was sorely mistaken. By revealing this information to her, he had shown how little he thought of her, how he did not consider her a threat. In the end, he would die for it.
She knew now, for certain, that the Final Nightmare would be born, but not as her Master envisioned. No, The Final Nightmare would be born from the blood of the Inquisitor, from the blood of her Master, and from the Girl With the Dead Eyes.
From their perch on a building above, they shared a brief glance, one set of eyes cold and dead, the other just the opposite, full of fire and passion. For a brief moment, the Girl With the Dead Eyes considered asking the one she called Master why he had held her back, why he hadn’t let her intervene to save her childe, but decided against it. After all, she had cared little for the childe, she had created it as more an experiment than anything else. A way to learn more about her true nature.
“I have known that man for a long time,” her Master spoke, his voice soft and melodic. “He has pursued me for countless years. A type of monster that hunts not just humans, but our kind as well. A predator who preys on predators, he is the ultimate killer. They are called Inquisitors, after the witch-hunters of old.”
He smiled then, and she gave him her full attention.
“But the Inquisitor is also the ultimate prey. His blood grants great power to our kind. By drinking it, we evolve into the purest form of monster. We become what our legends have called The Final Nightmare.”
Listening closely, her eyes flickered briefly with realization.
She had been created, and had created another, solely for the purpose of luring the Inquisitor to them, so that her Master could drink his blood and gain power. Her Master knew the Inquisitor would hunt him, and he would use that knowledge to bait him into a trap. Ultimately, she realized, her existence was little more than a trail of bread crumbs.
She moved down from her spot on the roof, her mind racing, while the rain, sensing that the monsters were done for the night, began to let up. If her Master thought he could manipulate her for his own ends, he was sorely mistaken. By revealing this information to her, he had shown how little he thought of her, how he did not consider her a threat. In the end, he would die for it.
She knew now, for certain, that the Final Nightmare would be born, but not as her Master envisioned. No, The Final Nightmare would be born from the blood of the Inquisitor, from the blood of her Master, and from the Girl With the Dead Eyes.
Everyone Dreams (The Girl With the Dead Eyes Part IV)
“I’m always amazed by the view your office gets. I mean everything in here is really nice, the couch, the desk, the computer, but the view, that’s the best part. How’d you ever get such a nice place anyway?”
“I graduated top of my class, received numerous awards of distinction in my field. They’re all on the wall over there.”
“Yeah I guess so, so you worked your way all the way up to the 47th floor huh?”
“I suppose that’s one way of putting it.”
“I’ve only been able to work my way up to a two story bungalow myself. Should I lie down now?”
“If you want. Wherever you feel most comfortable being. So you said last session that you’ve been having these dreams?”
“Yes and no, I mean, they’re dreams, but they’re not.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Exactly what it sounds.”
“I’m sorry, I’m having trouble understanding.”
“It’s like this, normally when people dream, they’re asleep right?”
“Yes, I suppose that goes without saying.”
“Well I’m not.”
“You’re not?”
“No.”
“Please elaborate.”
“When I dream, and I know I’m dreaming, I’m awake, in a sense, and what I’m dreaming comes true.”
“True?”
“Yes, like it happens right here, in the real world.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, for example, last night I dreamt that the dog I had to put down a couple of years back after my wife left was laying across my bed, sleeping like he always did, and then there he was.”
“In your dream?”
“No, in real life, I was awake, and dreaming at the same time. I reached out to pet him the way he loves it, and his tail wagged they way it used to. I could feel the softness of the fur, I saw his legs kick, like he was chasing gophers or something, you know, when a dog is also dreaming.”
“And when you woke up?”
“I don’t think you’re getting this Doctor. I was already up. My dog’s still there, he was there waiting by the door when I left this afternoon, and he’ll be there when I come back.”
“So you dreamt your dog back from the dead? Is that really what you’re telling me?”
“Hey don’t make fun of me. Aren’t therapists supposed to take this kind of stuff in stride?”
“Yes, yes you’re right, I'm sorry. Please continue.”
“Not sure if I want to now.”
“Please, we still have time left.”
“Okay, I’ll give you another example. The other night it was raining, like real hard, storm knocked the power out and everything. I had this dream where I was flying, flying as high as I could to escape the thunder and the lightning. My dog, he always hated storms, they made him so scared, so I guess they kind of got to me too. Anyway I was dreaming I was above the clouds, and then there I was, flying, just like a bird I swear to God, in just my boxers, and man it was really fucking cold, sorry for cursing, but let me tell you, was it ever beautiful. I saw the stars, like really saw them you know? Kind of like when you go out into the country to escape all the city crap that blocks the view, but so much closer, like I could reach out and grab them.”
“And then what happened?”
“I let myself fall, through the clouds, back towards the ground, and stopped myself before I hit my lawn. Then I ran inside so I wouldn’t freeze. I was soaked, and only in my underwear.”
“Couldn’t you have just dreamt for the rain to stop?”
“Never really thought of that, maybe.”
“Well, my friend, time is up for today. However I’d really like you to come back next week, and maybe for a few more sessions after that.”
“You think I’m crazy?”
“I don’t make distinctions like that.”
“Fine, I’ll prove it to you.”
“You don’t have to…”
“I can still fly you know.”
“What?”
“I can still fly, would you like to see?”
“I don’t…please…please step away from the window.”
“Well, you thought I was crazy right? I’m going to prove that everything I’m saying is true.”
“Alright, alright, just calm down okay? I believe you, you don’t need to prove anything to me. Now please, close the window.”
“No I insist. Don’t worry, I’ll be fine. Just watch Doctor, I’m about to change your world.”
“I graduated top of my class, received numerous awards of distinction in my field. They’re all on the wall over there.”
“Yeah I guess so, so you worked your way all the way up to the 47th floor huh?”
“I suppose that’s one way of putting it.”
“I’ve only been able to work my way up to a two story bungalow myself. Should I lie down now?”
“If you want. Wherever you feel most comfortable being. So you said last session that you’ve been having these dreams?”
“Yes and no, I mean, they’re dreams, but they’re not.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Exactly what it sounds.”
“I’m sorry, I’m having trouble understanding.”
“It’s like this, normally when people dream, they’re asleep right?”
“Yes, I suppose that goes without saying.”
“Well I’m not.”
“You’re not?”
“No.”
“Please elaborate.”
“When I dream, and I know I’m dreaming, I’m awake, in a sense, and what I’m dreaming comes true.”
“True?”
“Yes, like it happens right here, in the real world.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, for example, last night I dreamt that the dog I had to put down a couple of years back after my wife left was laying across my bed, sleeping like he always did, and then there he was.”
“In your dream?”
“No, in real life, I was awake, and dreaming at the same time. I reached out to pet him the way he loves it, and his tail wagged they way it used to. I could feel the softness of the fur, I saw his legs kick, like he was chasing gophers or something, you know, when a dog is also dreaming.”
“And when you woke up?”
“I don’t think you’re getting this Doctor. I was already up. My dog’s still there, he was there waiting by the door when I left this afternoon, and he’ll be there when I come back.”
“So you dreamt your dog back from the dead? Is that really what you’re telling me?”
“Hey don’t make fun of me. Aren’t therapists supposed to take this kind of stuff in stride?”
“Yes, yes you’re right, I'm sorry. Please continue.”
“Not sure if I want to now.”
“Please, we still have time left.”
“Okay, I’ll give you another example. The other night it was raining, like real hard, storm knocked the power out and everything. I had this dream where I was flying, flying as high as I could to escape the thunder and the lightning. My dog, he always hated storms, they made him so scared, so I guess they kind of got to me too. Anyway I was dreaming I was above the clouds, and then there I was, flying, just like a bird I swear to God, in just my boxers, and man it was really fucking cold, sorry for cursing, but let me tell you, was it ever beautiful. I saw the stars, like really saw them you know? Kind of like when you go out into the country to escape all the city crap that blocks the view, but so much closer, like I could reach out and grab them.”
“And then what happened?”
“I let myself fall, through the clouds, back towards the ground, and stopped myself before I hit my lawn. Then I ran inside so I wouldn’t freeze. I was soaked, and only in my underwear.”
“Couldn’t you have just dreamt for the rain to stop?”
“Never really thought of that, maybe.”
“Well, my friend, time is up for today. However I’d really like you to come back next week, and maybe for a few more sessions after that.”
“You think I’m crazy?”
“I don’t make distinctions like that.”
“Fine, I’ll prove it to you.”
“You don’t have to…”
“I can still fly you know.”
“What?”
“I can still fly, would you like to see?”
“I don’t…please…please step away from the window.”
“Well, you thought I was crazy right? I’m going to prove that everything I’m saying is true.”
“Alright, alright, just calm down okay? I believe you, you don’t need to prove anything to me. Now please, close the window.”
“No I insist. Don’t worry, I’ll be fine. Just watch Doctor, I’m about to change your world.”
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