Speaker 1: Matter is subject to debate. Light technically has substance the
Speaker 1: skimming of animated photons across various molecules, with a little
Speaker 1: heat in the form of radiation thrown in for good measure.
Speaker 1: So it would be, in an abstract way, logical for
Speaker 1: that same substance to exist In the antithesis. Darkness is
Speaker 1: the absence of light, of heat, and of energy. But
Speaker 1: what if there were another form of darkness, something palpable,
Speaker 1: something tangential. Imagine if you feel darkness itself and feel
Speaker 1: it on your skin like a ray of warm sunshine.
Speaker 1: It would be frightening or worse still, imagine if something
Speaker 1: could come from that darkness and touch you. I was
Speaker 1: touched by something from the darkness. This is my story.
Speaker 1: It seems too good to be true. What's the catch?
Speaker 1: The house must be haunted, I said to the landlord,
Speaker 1: as he absent mindedly scrolled on his phone. What's with
Speaker 1: all the stuff? He looked up at me with a
Speaker 1: perplexed expression. Huh uh oh. Yeah. The old tenant moved
Speaker 1: out about three weeks ago, left all the furniture and stuff.
Speaker 1: Hence why I listed the house as fully furnished. Keep
Speaker 1: whatever you want and toss the rest. I don't care.
Speaker 1: It ain't my stuff, he said, as he went back
Speaker 1: to checking his phone. The backyard's fenced in, obviously, and
Speaker 1: the doggy door here is open if you have a dog.
Speaker 1: There's an extra deposit of two hundred and fifty dollars.
Speaker 1: I walked through the three bedroom, two bathroom home, again
Speaker 1: built in the nineteen fifties, The one story brick structure
Speaker 1: was a simple rectangle divided into rooms, a common design
Speaker 1: back in the day. It had fallen by the wayside
Speaker 1: in the name of open concept floor plans long ago
Speaker 1: shotgun houses. They used to be called I remember my
Speaker 1: grandmother saying that phrase once upon a time. Still it
Speaker 1: had been recently remodeled, didn't reek of cigarette smoke like
Speaker 1: a few of the other places I had seen for rent.
Speaker 1: Trying to find a decent place within driving distance to
Speaker 1: work for under eighteen hundred dollars per month was nearly impossible.
Speaker 1: When the home just off Clifton Road sprang up on
Speaker 1: my app I thought it was a scam. I perused
Speaker 1: the built in shelf in the den which surrounded the
Speaker 1: wood burning fireplace, large thick books on anatomy, psychology, and
Speaker 1: the like filled at least three of them. One book
Speaker 1: stood out. It was faded green and lacked a dust jack.
Speaker 1: I started to remove it from the shelf, but left
Speaker 1: it hanging slightly. Ajar, these weren't my things to touch.
Speaker 1: There sure are a lot of medical books here. She
Speaker 1: worked at Big wake Over on Newburn Avenue. It was
Speaker 1: a short drive for her, but she found something else.
Speaker 1: Might have been a traveling nurse. I don't remember, he mumbled.
Speaker 1: I inspected the couchs thoroughly before walking into the bedroom.
Speaker 1: The lovely wooden French doors opened to a long hall
Speaker 1: away from the rest of the home. I pulled the
Speaker 1: sheets up and checked the corners of the mattress for
Speaker 1: signs of bed bugs. You want the place or not,
Speaker 1: little lady. I have another person coming in an hour
Speaker 1: to look at it. Should I cancel him or he
Speaker 1: called from the kitchen. Let's do it, I told the
Speaker 1: man proudly, as I walked back down the hall. Contracts
Speaker 1: on the island sign all three initial where I have
Speaker 1: the little tabs. Rent is due on the seventh, late
Speaker 1: two months and you're gone. I will pro rate this month,
Speaker 1: since it's already the second weekend. Everything in here is
Speaker 1: yours now? Well, that sounds fair. When can I move in?
Speaker 1: His hand vibrated softly as I asked the question soon
Speaker 1: as you sign, do you mind if I take this
Speaker 1: in port and call my new landlord said as he
Speaker 1: pushed through the screen door and went to the back deck.
Speaker 1: I quickly read the document over and signed each one meticulously.
Speaker 1: My first lease, I was officially on my own. It
Speaker 1: had been hard coming right out of the university to
Speaker 1: find a place to stay. Apartment prices were insanely high
Speaker 1: in Wake County, but I had lucked into a one
Speaker 1: thousand square foot home. It would be all mine for
Speaker 1: the next eighteen months. I thought, No, she isn't as
Speaker 1: pretty as the last one, not by a long shot.
Speaker 1: More of a normy, I thought. U nc W grads
Speaker 1: were all hotties, being from the beach and all. Guess
Speaker 1: she's the oddball, I heard the man say on his phone.
Speaker 1: As long as the rent gets paid, I don't care.
Speaker 1: Hopefully she doesn't vanish in the night like the last
Speaker 1: one did. Excuse me, what did you just say about me,
Speaker 1: I asked, incredulously. He looked at me with an annoyed
Speaker 1: expression and pointed to his phone. He saw I had
Speaker 1: the signed contract in my hand, and he snatched it quickly,
Speaker 1: flipping through the pages. He nodded in satisfaction and gave
Speaker 1: me a thumbs up with a smile as he continued
Speaker 1: to walk. He walked off the porch and got into
Speaker 1: his car, and he was gone. Two days and a
Speaker 1: large U haul truck later, I was completely moved in.
Speaker 1: As I removed the small things I brought from their boxes,
Speaker 1: I realized quickly I did not need most of what
Speaker 1: I brought Lenen's plates. It was all still there. The
Speaker 1: cableman came and went without issue use, and I streamed
Speaker 1: music from a small speaker as I moved throughout my
Speaker 1: new abode, glass of chilled wine in hand. It was
Speaker 1: late when I finally got to the last box, and
Speaker 1: it contained a small basket given to me by my
Speaker 1: late mother. I hoisted the cardboard container up and my
Speaker 1: hand found the massive hole in the side. No, no, no,
Speaker 1: I said, as I hastily cut through the packing tape.
Speaker 1: Something had punched through the side while in the truck.
Speaker 1: I ripped out the packing paper and stuck my hand
Speaker 1: into the box. The basket had splintered into pieces. It
Speaker 1: was handmade, woven together from thin strips of pliable North
Speaker 1: Carolina ashwood. I would never find another like it. It
Speaker 1: was wildly and a little crooked, but it was from
Speaker 1: my mother. My heart sank, but I couldn't bring myself
Speaker 1: to toss it. A few soft tears ran down my
Speaker 1: cheeks as I thought of her. She never saw me
Speaker 1: walk the stage at Wilmington to receive my diploma. She
Speaker 1: didn't get to hear my excited phone call to tell
Speaker 1: her that I had found a place of my own.
Speaker 1: I wanted to tell her these amazing things, to share
Speaker 1: the experience with her, but I couldn't. And I laid
Speaker 1: the broken pieces on the kitchen table, and my night
Speaker 1: was ruined. I preloaded the coffee maker and decided to
Speaker 1: go to bed. I took one last glance at the
Speaker 1: ravaged basket before I turned the lights out. My first
Speaker 1: evening there, I had fitful sleep. I woke with the
Speaker 1: sun bursting onto my face through the curtainless window. I
Speaker 1: tried to turn away, but I found I couldn't move.
Speaker 1: I tried, but I was stuck. I could not even
Speaker 1: move my head and my neck. My ears rang with
Speaker 1: a deep vibration and panic gripped me for an instant.
Speaker 1: Was I going to die? I only graduated six months ago,
Speaker 1: and now my life ends here. In my first night
Speaker 1: in my new home, the fear subsided as my feet
Speaker 1: became tingly. I could wiggle my toes. After a few moments,
Speaker 1: my entire body slowly returned to normal. The process took
Speaker 1: a few minutes, but those minutes were stretched along infinitely.
Speaker 1: When the scorching rays of the sun slap you in
Speaker 1: the face at six in the morning, I need to
Speaker 1: get some blackout curtains today, I said aloud. As I
Speaker 1: finally regained control of my body. My steady breathing returned,
Speaker 1: and I sat up in bed now immediately reached for
Speaker 1: my phone. It was six six a m. I opened
Speaker 1: Chrome and typed in can't move when I wake up?
Speaker 1: And then scan the results. The top bar read sleep paralysis,
Speaker 1: and I click the link from the National Health Service
Speaker 1: and I read through the information. It said sleep paralysis
Speaker 1: could be caused by disrupt in sleep patterns. Suppose moving
Speaker 1: is a disruption of sleep, I thought. I stepped onto
Speaker 1: the plush carpet of the bedroom and opened the double doors.
Speaker 1: A board groaned in protest as I stepped onto the
Speaker 1: hardwoods in the hallway. The strong scent of fresh coffee
Speaker 1: waffed it down the corridor to my nostrils. Each step
Speaker 1: drew me closer to sweet, delicious Columbian goodness. My toes
Speaker 1: danced in anticipation of that first sip. I stopped dead
Speaker 1: in my tracks as I entered the kitchen. The basket
Speaker 1: sat on the table. A vibrant ray of sunshine illuminated
Speaker 1: it in its perfect form. I rushed to it and
Speaker 1: immediately picked it up. I could see differences in color
Speaker 1: where new strands of wood had been used. It was
Speaker 1: no longer off kilter. It was perfectly shaped. I dropped
Speaker 1: it onto the table and I took a step back.
Speaker 1: What the hell, I said, It's not possible I saw
Speaker 1: it broken into pieces or did I dream it somehow?
Speaker 1: Deciding to see someone, I took myself to the urgent
Speaker 1: care clinic in Nightdale, and I spoke to a physician's assistant.
Speaker 1: She told me there was nothing in the way of
Speaker 1: medications that had proven effective in stopping sleep paralysis. She
Speaker 1: said people used to think it was caused by demons
Speaker 1: in your home, which would sit on your chest, but
Speaker 1: that it could cause visual and auditory hallucinations, as well
Speaker 1: as cloudy memory. My mind immediately ran to the basket.
Speaker 1: Was my memory distorted from the sleep paralysis? Was it
Speaker 1: ever really broken? No, I remember the basket. It was
Speaker 1: crude crafted by an amateur during her final months of
Speaker 1: life in physical therapy. Something was terribly wrong. I returned
Speaker 1: home with a bag of takeaway chicken tenders, and I
Speaker 1: sat at the kitchen table and stared at the basket.
Speaker 1: I chewed a tender with an open mouth while my
Speaker 1: eyes burned into the ash wood. You are not the
Speaker 1: way I left you, I said to the basket. I
Speaker 1: know it, and you know it. So what's the deal,
Speaker 1: I asked, as I jabbed a cold French fry in
Speaker 1: its direction. Okay, fine, don't talk to me, but we
Speaker 1: will get to the bottom of this. I spent the
Speaker 1: afternoon setting up my computer and streaming a show as
Speaker 1: background noise. I would have to get back to work Monday,
Speaker 1: and I wanted to be ready that night. I turned
Speaker 1: in around eleven. I began to drift off to sleep,
Speaker 1: and my phone blaring a video of a makeup channel
Speaker 1: I subscribed to. I heard a creak and I realized
Speaker 1: one of the two doors to the bedroom was slightly
Speaker 1: a jar. As my eyelids became heavy, I felt a
Speaker 1: vibration in my ears. It was nothing painful, but it
Speaker 1: was still something I could feel. It seemed to grow louder,
Speaker 1: or perhaps it felt louder. I wasn't sure if I
Speaker 1: was hearing it or feeling it. I wiped my dry
Speaker 1: eyes and I realized I still had my contact lenses in,
Speaker 1: and I blinked a few times, and I screamed. A
Speaker 1: large pair of glowing eyes stared at me from the corridor,
Speaker 1: and when I screamed, they appeared to move back slightly.
Speaker 1: Almost startled, I heard the creak again the floorboard I
Speaker 1: had stepped on earlier. Something was there, and it blinked
Speaker 1: rapidly a few times, and then suddenly vanished without a trace.
Speaker 1: I sat there, stunned. What the hell could that have been?
Speaker 1: I don't dare move from my bed, and fear utterly
Speaker 1: gripped me. There was a strange clanking sound from the kitchen.
Speaker 1: Something was definitely moving inside my home. After a few moments,
Speaker 1: it ceased. I didn't sleep the entire evening and only
Speaker 1: moved when the sun arose. I gripped my softball back
Speaker 1: tightly with sweaty palms. As I walked down the hall
Speaker 1: to the kitchen, my coffee maker clicked softly with the
Speaker 1: fresh brew. I didn't remember loading it the night before.
Speaker 1: Did I do it instinctively? Out of habit? I called
Speaker 1: the landlord immediately, mister Burke, there was something in the
Speaker 1: house last night, some kind of creature. It was in
Speaker 1: the house and it was staring at me.
Speaker 2: Well, did you close the doggy door when you moved in?
Speaker 1: The doggy door, I stammered. I turned around and walked
Speaker 1: to the den to look at the back door. There
Speaker 1: it was a tiny black flap and awe staring me
Speaker 1: in the face.
Speaker 2: Yeah, the doggy door. I told you that when you
Speaker 2: moved in. Did you forget about it?
Speaker 1: When I didn't reply, he laughed.
Speaker 2: Sounds like you had a raccoon visit. You probably rummaging
Speaker 2: for some leftover food.
Speaker 1: Well, how did it get over the fence? Raccoons are
Speaker 1: too fat, he laughed.
Speaker 2: A raccoon will do anything for scrap food, and the
Speaker 2: fences wooden. It probably climbed over. Close it up and
Speaker 2: call it a night. The block is in the coat
Speaker 2: closet by the back door. It's a wooden plank that
Speaker 2: slides over into the doggy door frame. Is there anything
Speaker 2: else you need? Well?
Speaker 1: I felt like an idiot. I said my goodbyes and
Speaker 1: I hung up. I opened the closet door, and sure enough,
Speaker 1: there was a wooden plank of the exact size of
Speaker 1: the door. I slid it into place and wiggled it
Speaker 1: a few times to make sure it was in place correctly.
Speaker 1: Satisfied with the effort, I started my day properly. The
Speaker 1: coffee was perfect and a cream cheese bagel made me
Speaker 1: feel better. I took a long, warm shower and opened
Speaker 1: my computer for work. That night, no critters entered my
Speaker 1: home and I slept blissfully and without worry. My week
Speaker 1: went uneventfully, and I procured my blackout curtains and hung
Speaker 1: them myself. Sleep came much easier for someone working what
Speaker 1: amounted to a second shift with the sun blocked out.
Speaker 1: It was Friday night and I had just logged off
Speaker 1: the computer after a long meeting with clients from Europe.
Speaker 1: Companies in Sweden put in their IT tickets at the
Speaker 1: end of the day, and I stayed up all evening
Speaker 1: to make sure their software work when they logged in
Speaker 1: the next day with a five hour time difference. Going
Speaker 1: to bed at one in the morning was a regular occurrence,
Speaker 1: and I was mentally exhausted and decided to relax. I
Speaker 1: poured myself a drink and grabbed a book from the shelf.
Speaker 1: The faded green text caught my eye again. With a
Speaker 1: book in hand, I grabbed my wine and I wrapped
Speaker 1: up in the warm sheets. Upon opening the groaning spine,
Speaker 1: the cover page took me aback sleep paralysis. Visitors from
Speaker 1: the other side of the door. Did the previous tenant
Speaker 1: have bouts with sleep paralysis? That couldn't be a coincidence.
Speaker 1: I flipped to the first chapter and I began to read,
Speaker 1: but the wine went straight to my head. The room
Speaker 1: spun ever so slightly, and a soft hum started to
Speaker 1: make my head feel fuzzy. I gently tapped the base
Speaker 1: of the bedside amp to turn it off and laid
Speaker 1: my head down against the silk pillowcase, and I was
Speaker 1: asleep within a minute. My eyes snapped open instantly. I
Speaker 1: knew that sound. It was the board in the hall.
Speaker 1: It was ingrained in my brain after the other evil.
Speaker 1: With my vision blurry, I fumbled desperately for the light,
Speaker 1: and in my heightened state of alarm, I slapped the lamp,
Speaker 1: turning it on but also knocking it to the floor.
Speaker 1: The shade landed with a crunch, and the lamp rolled
Speaker 1: from side to side on the soft carpet. I pulled
Speaker 1: my glasses from under my pillow and hastily positioned them
Speaker 1: on my nose, and I wish I hadn't. A set
Speaker 1: of long, spindily pale fingers creeped over the footboard of
Speaker 1: the bed. It grasped the wooden frame, followed quickly by another.
Speaker 1: They were gnarled and had four or five knuckles. The
Speaker 1: fingernails were yellowed, and the skin around them appeared to
Speaker 1: be raw, like an open wound. Two gargantuine ears, the
Speaker 1: size of a human hand perked up out of the darkness.
Speaker 1: They were rigid and erect and pale and distorted. The
Speaker 1: insides were a muddled pink. I gasped, and they instantly
Speaker 1: redirected toward me, like the ears of a hunting dog.
Speaker 1: The nails dug into the wood slightly, and two large,
Speaker 1: bulbous eyes rose slowly inch by inch. They were the
Speaker 1: size of lemons, jaundiced yellow and semi luminescent. The creature's
Speaker 1: face crept above the board, I switching ever so slightly
Speaker 1: as it looked me over. The small angular face had sunken,
Speaker 1: skeletal cheeks, and the nose was merely two slits in
Speaker 1: the face above the thin, cracked lips. My voice caught
Speaker 1: in my throat, a scream silenced by utter terror and
Speaker 1: the soft rocking of the lamp. Distorted shadows danced across
Speaker 1: the morbid visage of the human, like emp before me.
Speaker 1: The ears began to twitch rapidly until they appeared blurry,
Speaker 1: and my ears, in turn began to hum. It was
Speaker 1: the same hum I heard before I went to bed.
Speaker 1: It made my head spin and caused a wave of
Speaker 1: nausea to wash over me. In a single swift motion,
Speaker 1: it leapt to the footboard into view. The whole thing
Speaker 1: must have been less than three feet tall if it
Speaker 1: stood up. The legs were strong and muscular, but then
Speaker 1: the feet were massive, like the feet of a rabbit
Speaker 1: or a kangaroo. The body was horribly emaciated, with the
Speaker 1: ribs clearly visible through the taut almost albino's skin. A strange,
Speaker 1: hairless tail wrapped around the feet and thumped softly against
Speaker 1: the wooden bed frame. It had something held tightly by
Speaker 1: the tail, using it like a gripping appendage. The arms
Speaker 1: were gaunt, nearly twice the length of its legs, and
Speaker 1: riddled with scars. It huffed softly in short bursts, like
Speaker 1: a flat faced dog with breathing problems. The creature put
Speaker 1: the palms of its hands together and opened them up,
Speaker 1: displaying three fingers and a thumb on each hand. It
Speaker 1: wriggled the fingers out, forming something akin to the shape
Speaker 1: of a spider. Each finger seemed to move independently of
Speaker 1: the others, like they each had their own wrist joint.
Speaker 1: I screamed a deep, harsh, shrill scream, and the amp
Speaker 1: fell from the foot of the bed, letting out a
Speaker 1: yelp as it clattered to the floor. I tried to
Speaker 1: peer over the top of the bed to see where
Speaker 1: it had gone, and the bantam monster scrambled across the floor.
Speaker 1: The light of the lamp shone like a spotlight against
Speaker 1: the wall. It cast a harsh shadow in the corners,
Speaker 1: and the amp scampered quickly out of the light in
Speaker 1: short bursting hops. In one bound, crossed several feet of
Speaker 1: space and into the wall. Only it didn't crash into
Speaker 1: the wall. It seemed to jump through the wall, and
Speaker 1: then it was gone. The object held by its tail
Speaker 1: thumped softly on the floor, and I climbed out of
Speaker 1: the bed and cautiously walked to the spot where the
Speaker 1: creature vanished. I listened closely for any sounds, as if
Speaker 1: it had gone inside the wall, but there was nothing.
Speaker 1: After a pregnant moment, I stole a glance at the
Speaker 1: thing on the floor. I was astounded. It was a basket,
Speaker 1: A small basket, maybe big enough for a phone. It
Speaker 1: was intricately woven from what appeared to be some kind
Speaker 1: of black wood. It was perfect in every way. The
Speaker 1: realization dawned on me, and I began to panic. Had
Speaker 1: that thing repaired my mother's basket? Did it see me
Speaker 1: when I cried over it? Did it make this for
Speaker 1: me like a gift? I did not sleep for three
Speaker 1: days after that. I stayed in a hotel room until
Speaker 1: that Thursday, with out a second of rest. I called
Speaker 1: the police, but my home was locked up tight from
Speaker 1: the inside. And I looked at the pictures of monkeys
Speaker 1: and animals with maine and any other abnormal creature I
Speaker 1: could think of, and I found nothing that would explain
Speaker 1: a hairless, nearly albino thing that could make baskets and
Speaker 1: vanish into shadows. That Friday, I finally went home and
Speaker 1: I walked in the door to the rank odor of
Speaker 1: rotten food, several pieces of fruit spoiled into a sticky,
Speaker 1: sweet ichor. On my counter, I saw an apple that
Speaker 1: had small bites taken out of it, and I scanned
Speaker 1: the kitchen for any sign of the little imp. The
Speaker 1: coffee pot was haphazardly loaded with grounds. The dried black
Speaker 1: dunk of a four day old cup sat burned onto
Speaker 1: the bottom of the pot. I know I did not
Speaker 1: do that. It had returned at some point for me.
Speaker 1: Perhaps it thought I wouldn't return like the other person did.
Speaker 1: And I checked each room meticulously but found no other
Speaker 1: evidence of its presence. Deciding it was safe, I settled
Speaker 1: down in my bed and I locked the bedroom doors
Speaker 1: from the inside, and I finally fell asleep. I woke
Speaker 1: with a start. The room was dark, with the old
Speaker 1: digital alarm the only source of light. I wanted to
Speaker 1: reach for my eyeglasses on the bedside table, but I
Speaker 1: found I couldn't. My eyes were open, but I felt
Speaker 1: as if I were not fully awake. I willed myself
Speaker 1: to move, but nothing happened. I was stuck in my bed,
Speaker 1: lying on my left side. The first pang of anxiety
Speaker 1: washed over my body, and the thought occurred to me
Speaker 1: that something was definitely wrong. The feeling was momentary, and
Speaker 1: I realized this was just another bout of sleep paralysis.
Speaker 1: I tried to and I tried to say something to
Speaker 1: gain a bit of control. It's okay, the doctor said,
Speaker 1: it will pass in a few minutes, I told myself. Unfortunately,
Speaker 1: my lips did not move. Instead, it sounded more akin
Speaker 1: to gurgling mumbles. I would have laughed a little if
Speaker 1: I had been able to. At least I was in
Speaker 1: a comfortable position. I began to calm down a bit
Speaker 1: when my astigmatism riddled eyes caught movement near the bedroom doorway.
Speaker 1: Was there something really there or was it part of
Speaker 1: the mild hallucinations from the sleep paralysis. A creaking board,
Speaker 1: soft and subtle, was as loud as a gunshot in
Speaker 1: the deathly silence, and I knew that creek. It was
Speaker 1: the loose board right in front of the double doors.
Speaker 1: To my bedroom. In the soft green glow of the
Speaker 1: alarm clock, a silhouette slinked into the room. It seemed
Speaker 1: to pass right through the sturdy wooden frame without any issue,
Speaker 1: a darkness which was darker than the very shadow that
Speaker 1: it came from. It hopped on two back legs, almost
Speaker 1: like a deformed wallaby, without making so much as a sound.
Speaker 1: The awkwardly long arms dragged along the carpet as it
Speaker 1: hopped toward my bed. It drew near and the tapedum
Speaker 1: lucidum and the lemons sized eyes created an other worldly illumination,
Speaker 1: much like a nocturnal animal. They seemed to glow in
Speaker 1: the dark as they stared directly at me, unblinking. That grotesque,
Speaker 1: hairless thing crept right up to my bedside, clicking its
Speaker 1: tongue and thin lips together in a sound that reminded
Speaker 1: me of popping bubbles. In one sudden burst of speed,
Speaker 1: it sprung up onto the bed and landed on my hip.
Speaker 1: The gangly malformed hands grasped me by the shoulder with
Speaker 1: impossible strength. The grip was like a vice, and it
Speaker 1: rolled me over onto my back and stared down at me.
Speaker 1: And it sat on my chest, the thin worm like
Speaker 1: tail slapping aimlessly against the bed covers. I could do
Speaker 1: nothing to fight the thing back. I could only lay
Speaker 1: there helpless. It lazily turned my head to the side
Speaker 1: and ran its tongue, a fat, disgusting lump of flesh
Speaker 1: against the hooked, yellow finger nail, over and over, like
Speaker 1: it was cleaning itself. But no, it wasn't cleaning itself.
Speaker 1: I realized it was lubricating its finger. The eyelids retracted
Speaker 1: to reveal the full size of the bulbous orbs, and
Speaker 1: it slowly carefully jammed the finger into my ear canal, stretching.
Speaker 1: Sensation burned momentarily, but I was soon overwhelmed with a
Speaker 1: searing pain. I could feel the nail push my ear
Speaker 1: drum to the side and continued deeper, and I wanted
Speaker 1: to scream. I wanted to die. This was a violation,
Speaker 1: and I was defenseless against it. Warm blood began to
Speaker 1: feel inside my ear, and sound was drowned out by
Speaker 1: the steady thump of my own heart as my blood
Speaker 1: pressure skyrocketed. Perhaps I would just have a heart attack
Speaker 1: and die so I would not have to endure whatever
Speaker 1: this thing planned for me. Next, I squeezed my eyes
Speaker 1: shut as tears ran down my face, hoping and wishing
Speaker 1: and praying for it all to be a terrible dream.
Speaker 1: In an instant, the pain ceased. A warm, fuzzy feeling
Speaker 1: permeated my joints. It was delightful. My mind seemed to spin,
Speaker 1: but not in a dizzy, nauseous way. I slowly opened
Speaker 1: my eyes and they needed time to readjust to the
Speaker 1: blanketing darkness. Had this all been a dream? My mind
Speaker 1: was overwhelmed with an outpouring of emotions. My stomach cramped instantly,
Speaker 1: and I would have winced in pain if I could have.
Speaker 1: I was hungry. It was an immeasurable hunger, as if
Speaker 1: I had not eaten or drank anything in days. This
Speaker 1: must have been the sensation that came with starvation. A
Speaker 1: massive wave of sorrow rolled over me. It was an
Speaker 1: overwhelming sense of loneliness, like I had been alone for
Speaker 1: a thousand years, no friends, no family, not even another
Speaker 1: human soul to talk to. It felt like a crushing
Speaker 1: weight so heavy I could never get out from under it.
Speaker 1: The confusion faded as I regained my grip on consciousness.
Speaker 1: If it were all a dream, what I woke to
Speaker 1: can only be described as a nightmare. The creature was
Speaker 1: still there, and it sat on my chest, just below
Speaker 1: my collarbones. The finger was still jammed in my ear,
Speaker 1: almost to the knuckle. It looked down at me. His
Speaker 1: head cock to the side, and the massive bat like
Speaker 1: ears were protruded forward and out. It rotated its head
Speaker 1: back and forth like a dog hearing a ce word
Speaker 1: for a treat. The lips were distended and the lower
Speaker 1: one quivered slightly. A droplet of drool spattered onto my nose,
Speaker 1: and it was smiling at me. It was a hideous,
Speaker 1: demented smile, showing row upon row of jagged, snaggled teeth.
Speaker 1: With its left hand, the double jointed, morbidly long fingers
Speaker 1: ran through my scalp with machine like precision. They bent
Speaker 1: and twisted in emotion. I could feel, but I could
Speaker 1: not keep up with I knew the feeling though. My
Speaker 1: mother used to do the same thing when I was
Speaker 1: a child, as she would lull me to sleep. I
Speaker 1: could almost hear her voice as she hummed, hush, baby,
Speaker 1: don't say words. Mammy, buy you a bird. My mind
Speaker 1: cracked in a moment of insanity, and the first words
Speaker 1: were inhuman mutated, but as it finished the line from
Speaker 1: the lullaby, it sounded soft and soothing. This thing, this monster,
Speaker 1: was trying to sing to me in my mother's voice.
Speaker 1: As it braided my hair. It was in my mind
Speaker 1: these feelings. They weren't my feelings. The crippled pangs of hunger,
Speaker 1: and the confusing mixture of nervousness and infatuation, the overwhelming
Speaker 1: burden of soul crushing depression. They were coming from it.
Speaker 1: I was thinking its thoughts, I was feeling its feelings.
Speaker 1: The hand worked at a feverish pace. My left leg
Speaker 1: jumped suddenly. I was regaining my ability to move. The
Speaker 1: massive eyes glanced at the movement. It looked back at me,
Speaker 1: blinking rapidly. Sh It whispered to me. The fingers doubled
Speaker 1: their efforts and spun intricate braids on the other side
Speaker 1: of my head. I bounced my wrists slightly. A long,
Speaker 1: padded foot like a rabbit, pushed down on my hand.
Speaker 1: I felt the retractable talons, ever slow slightly, dig into
Speaker 1: my exposed flesh. Almost done, I began to find my voice,
Speaker 1: and it started as a low murmur. I screamed inside
Speaker 1: my mind, but each time I did, the stumbling sound
Speaker 1: grew louder. The spider like appendance turned my head face
Speaker 1: up and retracted from my head. A moment later, it
Speaker 1: pressed hard into my chest, and it felt like an anvil.
Speaker 1: The strength this diminutive abomination possessed was impossible to fathom.
Speaker 1: I could feel the finger begin to squirm out of
Speaker 1: my ear canal, and with a moist PLoP, it came free.
Speaker 1: The amp held the finger to its face and inhaled
Speaker 1: the coppery scent of my blood through the slits Just
Speaker 1: over its upper lip. The bumpy, blistered tongue protruded, and
Speaker 1: the face was suddenly just inches from mine. Slowly the
Speaker 1: tongue touched my chin. It was feverishly hot, and it
Speaker 1: probed my face up. The side of my lip, passed
Speaker 1: my left nostril and lopped lazily on my cheek. My
Speaker 1: chest jumped suddenly as I regained control of my limbs,
Speaker 1: and I rolled onto my side and tumbled out of bed.
Speaker 1: The creature landed flatly on its two kangaroo feet and
Speaker 1: bounded across the room. It was shadow in the corner
Speaker 1: seemed to open and engulf it, and it was gone.
Speaker 1: I stared, barely able to see, as a small trickle
Speaker 1: of warm blood coursed down my ear lobe. It followed
Speaker 1: the slimy streak of spittle the creature had left on
Speaker 1: my face and on my hands and knees. I sobbed
Speaker 1: on the bedroom floor until I threw up. The next day,
Speaker 1: I called my father and I told him I needed
Speaker 1: to move immediately and needed a place to stay. He
Speaker 1: offered to let me crash in his spare room until
Speaker 1: I got back on my feet. He drove up from
Speaker 1: the seaport and picked me up that evening. I left
Speaker 1: everything there, just like the last tenant. I didn't even
Speaker 1: care about my own things. I just wanted to get
Speaker 1: the hell out of there. As I rode in the
Speaker 1: passenger seat of his truck, I looked out the window
Speaker 1: at what should have been my dream but was instead
Speaker 1: a living nightmare, and from the open curtains of the bedroom,
Speaker 1: a pair of yellow, luminescent eyes stared at me, unblinking.