There's a moment when the sun disappears, when darkness falls and you're left with
just your fears. That's the moment you feel your first pang of doubt.
That's the moment when the night comes out. When the night comes out presents
the vanished boy the world. No, the universe has a way of fixing
things. The universe craves a balance, rushes to fill voids, and keeps
expanding. It also makes mistakes. Oh yes, nature makes mistakes too.
However, it also fixes them, even if it takes time, it fixes
them. What if you found out you were that mistake. It's the kind
of question you could only ask when the night comes out? What did you
want to talk about the boy? Oh? Right? Him? When did
I tell you about him before? Did I talk in my sleep? Perhaps?
Yes, that makes sense. I think about him a lot these days,
as the end of my life comes on swiftly, and surely I'm one
of the few who remembers him, you know, in fact, probably the
only one left a live. I tend to ramble. I talk in my
sleep. I can feel the darkness coming for me, and I think about
him. I think about the boy who vanished. It's a hard thing to
realize. The universe revealed itself to you at an age when you're still trying
to figure out what you want to do with the rest of your life.
It's cruel. Of course. He taught us that too. He taught us
what fear really is. The horrors of the world, of what we do
to each other, are nothing compared to the brutal, heartless, unfeeling horror
the universe does to all of us. I'm rambling again, Sorry, I
do that. Well, sit down, Help me with this blanket so I
can stay warm too. I'll be too tired to talk before too long,
so let me get started. I met the young man on my very first
day university. He was handsome, I guess in an unconventional sense. I
remember him being quiet and awkward. He'd made a few friends, but not
a lot. But he stumbled across the group I was in from one of
the dormitory floors. We welcomed him in, and we made him laugh,
and he had a pretty good sense of humor all on his own. We
became good friends. I would say I liked him, but there was one
thing about him that stood out. He was desperately lonely. He confided in
me he'd been a three time loser in the dating department during high school.
He also seemed virtually ignored by women. While at college, on the other
end of the spectrum, he also made some friends fast, but then never
expanded his sphere of influence. He did well in classes, but not in
a way that stood out. He never failed the test as far as I
knew, or missed a deadline for a term paper. But he was also
not the head of the class. He was plain, just plain. There's
nothing wrong with being plain. Don't get me wrong. The color beige gets
a bad rap, but it's a perfectly fine and a great color. If
you want something neutral to build upon, don't let people tell you that the
world needs to be filled with nothing but flashy people who burn bright red and
purple and then burn out at age twenty. We should all try to be
good people, do what we can to help take care of our families,
and die content. That's what I've tried to do. The problem with this
young man was harder to pin down. It wasn't just that he was plain,
it was that he was forgettable. I mean, instantly, It's so
hard to explain without sounding like a lunatic. But I'm in my nineties now,
and maybe I shouldn't care about sounding like a lunatic. He would be
there at a party or just hanging out in a room with the rest of
the people and suddenly leave. We'd stay good night, but also we'd just
carry on. When he was out of sight. We erased him from our
minds. It sounds cruel, I know, but this was not something we
did deliberately. It just happened. The moment we saw him again, we'd
remember him and act like nothing had happened. But if we were away from
this boy, all of us would just forget him. Sometimes, even those
of us who had hung out with him quite a bit would hear his name
mentioned and ask who again. I realize how bad that sounds, but what
can you do. It was the situation. He was strange, but when
you're that age, you don't think much about those things. It just happens.
Once, when he and I were in the same room just watching TV
and talking, he told me he was never meant to be born. Of
course, that got my attention, but he said that when his mother was
pregnant with him, there was a car accident. It was bad enough,
and his mother was injured enough that she should have miscarried, but that didn't
happen. Then he also told me when his mother found out she was pregnant
with him, his parents' financial situation was so dire she nearly had an abortion.
I cannot imagine how we found this out. I would hate to think
she ever told him this, but somehow he knew. I did not know
what to say to him. I think I tried to laugh it off.
I have a very faint, vague memory of him laughing as well, but
also with there being a sadness in his eyes. I had never run across
someone so lonely, so sad. And yet when he left the room that
night, I forgot all about him. I forgot the conversation we had.
Only later, when it was all over, did I recall what we talked
about. Yes, once it was all over, the memories of him came
rushing back. For almost the entire four years, he was a constant presence,
but the strangeness about him continued. Then, during his senior year,
something unexpected happened. He met a girl in class and they started dating.
All of us were surprised, but she seemed to have genuine but guarded affection
for him, as was hardly some storybook romance. Don't get me wrong,
they were not passionate lovers kissing in front of a sunset only Hollywood could produce,
you know, complete with a dramatic score from a full orchestra. This
was a lot less. They were in the same class together. He liked
her. Eventually passed a note to her and said class and she ended up
asking him out for dinner. Then they were going out, and then they
were dating. And how far things went with them I do not know to
this day. He brought her into our group of friends. We liked her,
but also found her annoying at times. She had a very naive and
juvenile sense of the world. She treated college like it was just high school,
only more expensive. She also had a reputation for leading guys on dating
them, always with the promise of some sex, but never delivering. Still,
he seemed happy, maybe a little less lonely, a little more visible
or memorable. However, it wasn't long before things went south. I think
his rather odd nature finally got to her, you know what I mean,
His forgetability, his transparency. Well, things may have burned hot at the
start. When the man you're trying to build a relationship with keeps leaving your
mind slipping out like a man on a soaped floor, it's hard to stay
focused. At some point you probably start to wonder why you're wasting your time.
He told me later that this girl just told him the old we should
just be friends speech, that she felt no spark with him romantically. Needless
to say, whatever light had started to shine through with him vanished. He
seemed to become even more of a ghost than before. Here's something I want
to stress though. I don't want you to think that this man needed to
be in a relationship in order to exist. No, no one does.
We all have something within ourselves that allows us to shine. We are our
own companions, you know, from the moment we're born. It's the voices
within us that drive us, stay with us, help us decide what to
do. That said, there is something about finding another person who melts with
you that adds something. I'm sure you've gazed at a gorgeous sunset while off
walking all by yourself. Its beauty was not diminished by the fact you are
alone. However, isn't it more memorable when you can reach out and hold
the hand of a person you love and share that moment with them. A
connection happens between us, and there's no denying it. Men who are locked
away in supermax prisons with no contact even with fellow inmates, go crazy.
We as animals on this planet, are not meant to be totally alone.
From that point, it's hard to explain what this boy became. He was
like a living ghost. It was almost like you could just see right through
him. He drifted from one thing to the next, but I cannot recall
him smiling at all during this time. I cannot think of a single thing
in which he did which stood out. There was one night when the young
woman who he'd been dating came to my room. I was just lounging there
watching TV, and she knocked on the doorframe since my door was open.
It surprised me to see her. Sure, we hung out together quite a
bit, but I wouldn't say we were friends. I can't remember him,
she said. Her face was filled with sadness, but also looked lost,
stared ahead at nothing. You know who I mean, right? It actually
took me a moment. Yeah, yeah, I do. You forget him
too? All of you do. I didn't know how to reply to that,
so I just shrugged. She shuffled into my room, crossed her arms
across her chest. Sometimes I would be on a date with him and I'd
forget he was there. We'd be at the movie and I'd look over and
be surprised to see he was there. Jesus. She nodded, not to
be too weird, but we'd kiss, and sometimes it felt like kissing nothing.
There's something about him that's hard to pin down, not just hard to
pin down, hard to hold on to, like trying to grab an eel
or something. Why do you think that is? She shrugged. I don't
know. Do you think people can just vanish? Like maybe they aren't meant
to be here? I think I laughed at the thought. No, I
never thought of that. She smiled, a sad smile. I think about
it all. I think maybe something is wrong with him. I mean,
he seems okay, and it's not like he's sick, but there's something off.
Maybe he's not supposed to be here with us. He told me once
about his mother being in a terrible car accident when she was pregnant with him.
Not that this means anything I still don't think what you say holds merit.
If what you said did, then it would change the fundamental beliefs of
how the universe works. For some reason, you and I are the only
ones who can more easily remember him the way. She continued. I don't
think she had heard a word I was saying. I talked to one of
my girlfriends who's met him several times, and she couldn't remember him at all.
She said, no one by that name had ever spoken to her.
I had been with her and him in the same room just two weeks before.
I think people are forgetting him faster and more completely. I was about
to tell her she was still talking crazy, and I just had a conversation
with another resident just that morning who knew the young man. The same thing
happened. The person I was talking to had no idea who I was referencing,
and they'd just been with him two days before. No amount of describing
the young man could convince him. What do you think it means, I
asked, I think he's going to just not be here soon. She said
so matter of factly. It caught me by surprise. He will just vanish.
Do you think we'll still remember him. I don't know. I kind
of hope so. But then again, like you said, remembering any of
this is kind of terrifying too. It seemed like there was nothing else to
say. We spent a few minutes making small talk, but then she got
up and left. I was alone now, and I closed the door so
no one else would walk in and disrupt my train of thought. I was
worried, concerned, and more than a little disconcerted. What did it mean
to vanish? People disappeared all the time, but the ones we were all
aware of had some criminal reason behind it, or the person who vanished had
given reasons for it and run away. This was something else entirely. What
kind of universe would just make people vanish, and not just vanish from rooms,
cars, or to home, but from memory. I laid in bed
that night, tossing and turning, my dreams troubled. I suddenly had this
feeling the young man was vanishing, disappearing from everything, even as I tried
to sleep. Eventually, at three in the morning, I awoke and tried
to call him. Someone answered on the other end, but the voice was
so tiny I couldn't make out any of the words. I tried to engage
in conversation, but the phone disconnected. When I tried to call back,
I just got a busy signal. Then, after a few more attempts,
all I got was a weird alarm and a record Howard voice telling me that
the number had been disconnected. I was, as you might imagine, anxious.
I got up, moved through the mostly silent halls of the dorm to
his room. He was close by to my own room. I knocked.
I heard something on the other side, but it was quiet and strange.
I knocked again, worried I would awaken the entire hall, but nothing stirred
outside. Just to my right, through a window, the darkness seemed to
encroach upon the building. There was another strange noise, almost like something moving
shifting, and an odd gurgling sound, but it also seemed distant. What
did I do? I stood there and pondered. I was an ra so
I had a key which would allow me access to his room. It was
to be used only in an emergency. Of course, I felt this was
one. But what would I do to explain it to my boss if it
turned out to not be a crisis. I was worried. The young man
was disappearing from the world. There was no one who would believe me.
Hell I didn't believe me. A strange thing happened as I stood there,
though the weird fear faded. I could feel it like when you have a
radio signal so strong and sure slowly fades away the further you went from the
transmitter. After a few moments, I looked at the door and was puzzled
as to why I was there at all. Had I been sleep walking?
I soon turned and walked back to my room. Once inside, I climbed
right into bed and was asleep. Moments later, frantic pounding on my door
awakened me with a start. At first, I wasn't even sure where I
was. I tumbled out of bed, my head filled with strange dreams of
creatures roaming the spaces between our world and the next with giant erasers. It
was getting light outside, still not entirely bright, but enough to see around
the room clearly. Far too early, I got to my feet and flung
open the door, ready to tear into whomever was there. When I saw
the tears streaked, frightened face of the young woman, my heart froze.
Yes I had forgotten about him again until the moment I saw her, and
all the memories came rushing back at once. What happened? I asked?
He called me, maybe ten minutes ago. I could barely hear him.
His voice was distant and weird, like gurgly or something. He told me
I was the only person he really ever loved, but that he was disappearing.
Nothing could stop it. I could see tears had dried on her face
from earlier, and fresh ones now streamed from her eyes. Sure sounded bad.
I grabbed my keys, let's go. We had it down the hall.
It wasn't far, but it felt like miles. To me. All
the memories of this young man, which had been so hard to remember for
so long, came back at once. I remembered all the time we spent
together. It was like these thoughts branded my mind, scarred me. We
got to his door and I didn't even bother knocking. The window to my
right showed the sun would be up soon, the horizon turning all sorts of
oranges and yellows. I pushed open the door. The girl beside me to
my left. We both stopped dead a few inches inside. Everything was gone.
No clothing, his television, the computer on his desk, all the
books, the shelving, everything just gone. The area, rug on the
floor, gone on the bed, no sheets. Then we saw him,
barely. The young man was see through. He sat on the bed,
staring out the window at the sunrise. There was a look of peace on
his face. When we entered, he looked at us and he managed to
smile, a sad, lonely smile. He tried to speak, but there
were no words either of us could understand. Instead, he pointed to a
single piece of paper, which sat on the otherwise empty desk. Then the
sun broke over the horizon. A brilliant beam of yellow sunlight came through the
window, and both me and the girl had to shield our eyes. When
seconds later our eyes adjusted and we could see the bed again, he was
gone, just gone. I didn't know what to say. I glanced at
the young woman next to me, and then walked over to the desk.
There was a writing on the paper, but even that was fading. It
read I was never meant to exist. I am a failed abortion, a
miscarriage that didn't happen. Maybe that accident my mom was in when she was
pregnant, was supposed to be fatal. Somehow I slipped through the cracks or
nature missed me. Nature makes mistakes, it seems. I remember how by
now the ink was fading so fast. I heard the girl beside me cry
out a bit. I started reading faster. The world makes us for a
purpose. When we somehow defy that purpose, it has to make corrections.
You see. Nature does make mistakes. Everything makes mistakes. Because I was
never meant to be here, no one can remember me, no one can
love me, No one was meant to be with me. I have been
a walking ghost for so long now, so lonely. Even the paper felt
thinner in my hands. I could see my fingertips through it. So I'm
being corrected. It took time, you see. There are many mistakes,
big ones and small ones. I'm sure I was a small one, just
a glimmer. I have seen many things. But it is time to go,
and no one will remember. Just like that, the paper was gone.
He was right. No one remembered him. There was no missing person's
report, there was no police investigation. No one talked about him at all
except myself and that girl. I know because she told me a few days
later. When I ran into her years later, she nodded and appeared so
sad. I knew that some part of her still remembered. Perhaps it was
because we were there the day he vanished. Perhaps we had just managed to
get closer to him than anyone else. It's been a long time now.
I lost touch with the girl. Of course, I heard she passed away
a few years ago. And the number of times I've thought about that young
man since then, well, it's beyond accounting. I've lived a long time.
I think it's a curse to remember that long and know what I know,
to know that the universe can act the way I know it does.
Nature makes mistakes, and sometimes makes them so seriously bad it takes decades to
correct them. Maybe all of us are mistakes, and it takes some a
millennium to be corrected. Is I near my own end time in this world?
I wonder what happened to that young man? Did he just vanish into
nothingness? Do we all? I have no answers, but I think a
god would never let what happened to that young man happen. This used to
scare me, but not so much anymore. Someday people will forget me too.
It happens to most of us. Nature corrects itself anyway. I'm tired,
now, help me pull my blankets up. I'll just sleep here in
this chair. I appreciate the visit, but I'm going to sleep now.
Nature makes mistakes. One man's lesson because of a strange encounter when he was
younger, a revolution or a burden? Something to ponder when the Night Comes
Out. You've been listening to When the Night Comes Out, a weekly horror
anthology podcast with stories by Brian w Alaspa and narrated and produced by Ali James,
music by Vivakabishek. For Brian's work, visit his website at brianw Alaspa
dot com or visit Amazon dot com for his works of fiction and nonfiction.
For Ali's work, find her on Facebook at Ali James Projects. Don't forget
to check out our website When the Night Comes Out dot com to learn how
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