I want you to understand what happened, Darcy.
Awakening to the smell of freshly fried eggs and sizzling bacon was the highlight of the day. I felt as if I could hover across the house like an old cartoon character following the smells. I stepped down the stairs, a content smile brandished across my face. I shrugged as I walked past the minor black mold that started to creep in under the door and waved hello at my family, sitting around the circular dining table. You said that you loved me, and handed me a cup of coffee. It was brown and hot, the aroma of which filled my senses. I sipped it slowly as I listened to my children tell me about their fanatical dreams.
Charles, my oldest, was nearing seventeen, had started to dream up strange dreams that bordered on nightmares. He told me of the times he was standing on a golden sand beach with a singular palm tree beside him. In front of him was a wall, a wall of water that peaked past the clouds. It was as if it was a curtain for the very sky. Atop the peak of the curtain was the raging white rapids of a stirring sea… yet the water did not move. It stayed stationary as Charles slowly made a sand castle from the golden sand. Content even in the face of annihilation.
Debra, nearly fourteen, told of her dream. She described a beautiful green oasis within a pit of sand, from which she slid down from the dunes above. Within, she saw various things and beings that sprouted coral like protrusions across their bodies. It would’ve frightened her, had it not been a dream, and they were kind. They spoke to her, of which Debra only remembered a little about. She said they were from a village, one of which they were exiled from. When Debra asked why, she was met with an apathetic shrug, and a word. “Unlucky.” She said the dream continued, from which they had a lovely time. Unfortunate strangers left to be kind to other unfortunates.
Finally, Timmy, my youngest who had reached the age of twelve just a few months prior, told of his dream. He said it was simple, a simple room, with a simple sound. The gentle tings and tongs of a wind chime outside of a window. The room around him was gray and ascetic, as if unlived in. He said that in this dream, he would only stare at the wind chimes, as they slowly rang him a tune. Enjoyment through the dull.
I smiled in interest at each of their retellings. It was a wondrous thing, human imagination. Before long however, the clock struck thirty past nine and work called to me. I pulled my tie ready and lifted the brown suitcase that I brought to work everyday. I stepped outside to the evergreen plastic lawn, and the ideal American suburb. White walled homes with gable rooftops, lawns of grass, and sprinklers wasting the water.
I waved hello at the neighbors, and they waved back. Responses that remained static throughout the past ten years of living here. Stability is good though, I thought to myself.
Half an hour later, I found myself at the office of my work, typing away at the cheap plastic keyboard as lights flickered on the monitor, the slow whirr of the office filled my ears. The chatter of the workplace felt off, where I’d expect a chuckle from a distant corner of the office, I heard only drawn out sighs. Near the front of the office, my manager sat behind closed shutters, perhaps he knew if something was wrong. I pressed down on a button underneath the monitor screen and it shut off with a dull beep. I walked towards my manager’s office, passing a few grim frowns from my coworkers.
I knocked on the door, through the closed shutters I could see a small peek of my manager, where he sat with his head in his arms. I knocked again and he raised his head, “Come in.” his voice was slurred.
I walked in and could immediately tell he was hungover, or perhaps even drunk. His usually well-kept hair was a tangled frizzy mess. This was the first sign. He talked to me with somber words. I don’t remember what he said exactly, but he spoke about the business and how it was failing. He lifted a piece of dead coral he had on his desk, I assumed it was a paper weight of sorts. He sighed to it and asked me to leave.
I returned to my desk with the same grim expression the rest of my coworkers held. Jobs were getting more difficult to obtain, and I could hear it from the grapevines and newspapers. I used the work phone to make a call to you, I told you about the situation, and you understood.
At least, I thought you did.
When I returned home from the long workday, the phone had a message from the office. I was let go over the phone, it came so suddenly; I had a hard time believing at first. I didn’t lose face in front of the children, I just had to find a new job.
Charles and Debra had put Timmy to bed, they were observant and smart kids. They knew something was wrong.
Charles was the first to ask, “What’s wrong?” He asked me. Debra grew the same worried look that Charles had.
I didn’t know what to tell them at first, it was my responsibility as a parent to take care of them. I had to keep up that image of stability, I’d find a job soon enough. I waved their question away, I knew they weren’t content with my answer.
By the time I got around to eating dinner, it was cold. It’s not that important to mention, but it’s just another straw to the ever burdened camel. We talked over the cold dinner, just you and me.
“What are you going to do?” You asked me, I couldn’t look into your eyes. I felt the tinge of disappointment in your words. It was unfair.
“I’ll find a new job, there’s another place, up a bit into the city, not much longer of a commute…” I said, you said something in response, something about your parents. I didn’t want to be co-dependant. I said it was off the table. We weren’t poor. We had enough money to pay the mortgage for six months, eleven thousand dollars in savings. You said okay, I knew you had malice in your voice.
We ate in silence, just you and me. I wish I could have a meal with you again.
The next morning, Debra had come down with something bad. High temperature, disorientation, and molted skin. You let Charles take Timmy to school, and we went to the hospital with Debra together. They said it was sepsis.
She wouldn’t make it if she didn’t get treatment immediately, so we said yes to everything they told us. I was by her bedside that night, listening to the cold quiet breeze that flowed in.
She spoke to me, slowly, “Dad.” I nodded to her. She said kind things to me, supportive, good-natured words. Then she told me about her dream the previous night.
She described it to me in her fatigued state. Debra returned to that oasis, where she met the coral men. She waved at them and they did not seem to recognize her. They let her in with open arms nonetheless. She said they spoke to her about trust, and how she needs to trust you.
You.
Trust you.
I didn’t hear the rest of her dream. She slept with Charles and Timmy by her side in that hospital that night. I had no idea where you went. The next morning, she went into shock. You got there an hour later, frantically pushing the nurses and doctors to the side. You were shouting her name.
She was fine. The treatments worked and Debra recovered. The doctors said it was a thirty to forty percent mortality rate, and you weren’t there. We fought in the lobby, do you remember that? I do.
The hospital always made me queasy. Knowing that the injured and ill filled every crevice of the building made my skin itch to the bone. I had gone there between my job hunts to visit Debra. Charles and Timmy were worried sick about her, I spoke to Timmy out in the hallway. He asked me where you were, if I had known what I knew now, I would’ve never said anything. I gave him your number and said he could call you. Charles called you too, and I returned to Debra’s side. She was still in a fatigued state, her mind clouded. She would repeat a few of the same phrases about her dream.
“Friendly wants to meet you.”
“They’re so kind, and strange.”
“I want their face.”
Something creeped me out about the last phrase, and how’d she repeat it while closing her eyes. I went to the front desk an hour later, and asked for the current bill.
It was eight thousand dollars, I knew I had eleven thousand dollars in our account. I knew it, I double checked it that morning and I did the math on how many months I could pay on our mortgage.
So why was the bill declined? Why was it that when I called the bank, they told me I had only ten dollars and twenty-six cents left in the account? I told the clerk I’d pay later and walked back into Debra’s room. I looked at her, softly fading away, I wondered if she’d ever fully recover from the sepsis. I knew everyday she stayed meant a few thousand dollars more in debt. Her oxygen line was on the floor, I guess back then safety wasn’t such a big concern. I looked into her eyes, I didn’t see my daughter. I saw a codependent person fading away. My foot found it’s way over the oxygen line, my heel to the ground with the front of my foot hovering just over the line.
Debra turned to face me, “They will meet… they know my caretaker.” I didn’t know she was talking about you, at the time. It was enough to get me to move my foot away. I walked to meet Charles, who was standing outside, leaning against the wall of the hospital with Timmy.
“How is Debra?” Charles asked. He was genuine, a good kid. Too good.
I told him she was fine, and if he’s seen you anywhere. He shrugged, and he lied to my face. “She didn’t tell me anything.”
No, Charles and you spoke for far too long for you to have said nothing to him. Why would he lie?
I asked him again, calmly.
Charles raised his hands up to his sides, “Don’t know. What’s your plan for a job? She told us you got fired. Maybe that’s why she left.”
Something started to stir in me, from that question. “Please mind what you’re saying.” I said back to him.
He was a teenager though, so he continued his speech, “You’ve been out of a job for all of three days, and she already left. There had to be something else going on.” A noise started in my mind, like a crescendo to an opera performance, rising orchestral tension.
“No.” I stuttered, my hands were shaking. “There was nothing else.” Charles wasn’t content with my answer, he sighed and whipped his head to the side. He said something along the lines of how much of a failure I’ve become.
I looked down at Timmy. I asked Timmy to walk away. He did, like a good kid.
Charles started to walk too, I grabbed his wrist. You know that feeling? That feeling that some parents have that makes you just want to… teach your kid a lesson? I’ve tried to type this section out in more detail, several times, but I’m now electing to omit it.
I strangled Charles. I did. He coughed, wheezed and struggled in my hands. His kick to my shin made me let him go. A second later I recognized what I had done, and fell to my knees in front of him.
I was killing my son, why?
He shouted something at me, but I had gone deaf, trapped in my own mind. He snapped at me and grabbed me by my shirt, forcing me to focus on him. We cried together, breaking down our emotional walls to expose to each other what we were feeling. I felt that I was disappointing my entire family, that I was a failure. I didn’t mention what I almost did to Debra.
It’s only been three days, what’s going on?
Later that evening, I drove Timmy and Charles back home. That’s where you come in. You were slumped over the dining room table, a glass of red wine to one side and a disconnected landline to your other side. I came in shouting at you, asking— no, demanding, what happened to the money.
You mumbled something, and tipped the glass over. I asked again and you yelled at me. Charles was quick to take your side, maybe he didn’t hear what I said and just heard me shouting.
“Leave her alone!” He yelled. I balled my fists in anger and shouted again. You stood up out of the chair and threw the glass across the room, it shattered into pieces. I pointed at the door, poor Timmy was so terrified. You scared him so much.
You walked out of the house, that was the last time I ever saw you. When you shut that door behind you, I felt a wave of relief, despair, and loneliness. On the counter, I noticed you left behind a piece of dried coral. It was covered in swirls, gray and dead. Hard as stone yet I could crumble bits of the facade with a hard enough press. I needed to talk to Debra.
Charles and Timmy elected to stay at home, I let them. I would visit Debra myself, driving the car that evening through the lonely highway as my heart beat raced. I kept thinking to myself, replaying every situation in my head, thinking about what was the smart choice.
I found myself at the hospital again, I still wished I never went inside. The clerk at the front office was kind as always. She could tell something was off about me too as I walked to Debra’s room. The window into the room was stained, a speckle of red. It didn’t concern me at first— stepping inside the room showed me something much worse.
I know what they told you, they told you that I did it, and what I’ve told you so far will make it sound like I had the reason to do it but I didn’t. I didn’t do it. Did you? Did you? Who did? Was it you? Was it them?
Debra laid in that hospital bed, at first I thought her face had been caved in. I ran to her, grabbing her hand. I was close enough to see what really happened. Her left hand was clutching a medical scalpel, it was covered in dried dead coral. Like someone left it in the ocean for a few decades for the sea to manifest upon it. Remembering her face now is difficult, not because my memory is poor, but just… how it was.
Her face’s skin was upside down. A thin bloody line from the top to the bottom marked a large oval frame of her face. It was as if someone picked up that oval and just turned it around. I could see her eyes behind her cut off lips. Behind her eye sockets were her white teeth, cracked and covered in sea growth. Blood spilled from her ears, eyes, nose, and mouth, gently pooling in her bed. The mouth of hers was twisted and curled, in such a large smile that it was unnatural. I placed my hand to her cold cheek, and I cried. Darcy, I cried, is that not enough? Even after all this time, I remember exactly how her face felt. Like cold meat from the freezer, none of the warmth that she once had. The nurse came in a few minutes after me, or maybe a few seconds. I don’t recall. The nurse restrained me, screamed, and soon enough I was escorted out of the building where dozens of the red and blue had parked up by the front. Flashes of her face kept assaulting my mind, the twisted smile, the teeth behind her eye sockets, the feel of her skin. Debra didn’t deserve this, yet, that smile, it was like she had joy before…
The police had me in one of their cars, and I was taken to the station. My eyes and cheeks covered in dried tears, and my hands in blood. They didn’t arrest me, but their questions were numb to me, I wasn’t in the state of mind to answer them and they let me go a few hours later. I collapsed on the sidewalk outside of the station, curled into a fetal position, crying. One of the policemen came outside to talk to me. I remember him, his voice was uncaring and cold.
“You can’t be out here like that.” He said, or something to that effect. I ignored him, and he dragged me off of the sidewalk and into the lot of the station. I asked him through my broken voice to call for Charles, my son. He agreed and returned to the station. My mind started to drift, and wander, as if it was swimming through a ravine. Rocks on either side of my mind, threatening to poke and scratch me if I diverged from the path before me. I started to dream, there upon the lot of the station.
I remember my own nightmare vividly.
A towering being stood within a sand-encircled oasis. It was hundreds of meters tall, the ankles of the being were at the height of the oasis’s trees. I stood before it, atop the dunes that surrounded the oasis. Long strands of hair, thick as trees, flowed from the skull of the being down to the exposed rib cage. The sun was behind the being, but even then, I could see the coral protrusions from every bit of the skin it had. Twisted and curled, dotted and maze-like, the coral flowed throughout the entirety of the being as it held its head in a bowed state. It was the very definition of colossal, like the sea, and the waters it held.
I walked from the dunes towards the oasis, as if the being was calling my name. Within the oasis, there were two figures facing away from me. Both were women, from their silhouettes, a tall one, and a shorter one. I could see that their hands and arms were covered in a similar coral growth that I started to see everywhere.
As I stepped forward, I recognized the figures, it was you. You and Debra. The figures turned to face me, Debra’s face was the same as I last saw it. Twisted, curled, spiraling, evil. Her smile, arcing from the middle of both sides of her face up to an apex at the top of her head opened slightly. Your face was… You know what your face was. You talked to me.
“What are you talking about?” You said to me, I was confused at first, as I hadn’t said anything. I kept my eyes fixed on Debra. I asked you what you meant.
“Psycho. Where’s Timmy!” You shouted at me, I looked at you, your face changed. It would be blank, if not for the dozens of holes in a neatly arranged grid covering your entire face. Every one of them beckoned my gaze, and the sense of vertigo felt as if I was falling. Your face, I know now that it was resembling a phone’s speaker.
I responded, slowly, freezing up in terror as my gaze darted between the two of you, “I.. I don’t know.” I closed my eyes, I could feel the heat of the oasis fade, and the cool breeze returned around me. I felt a hand shake my shoulder and I opened my eyes. A policeman was standing next to me, holding a cellphone to my ear, he snapped his fingers in front of my eyes.
You yelled at me again, through the phone, “What the fuck did you do to Debra?” I felt pleasant though, hearing your voice. Even if it was a yell. The policeman removed the phone from my ear before I could respond, he pressed down on a button and your voice disappeared.
“Some wife, huh?” He chuckled to himself as he held the large phone in his hand. His words hurt. He continued to speak, “Debra… that’s the dead kid from the hospital, yeah?” He narrowed his eyes at me and grabbed my shoulder. He told me to come with him.
I was in a trance-like state from that point, like the environment around me shifted with me in place. One moment, I was at the booking station, the next, the jail cell. They threw me in with a new set of gray dull overalls. Around me, gray concrete, and a singular window. I leaned my head against the wall, staring out into the window. I was tired. My vision blurred and my mind felt as if it was turning on and off, alternating every other moment. I could only smell the bit of blood that remained on my skin and the metal aroma that arose from the bars of the cell. I focused outside, out into the window. A wind chime hung from something outside, slowly drifting around in the breeze. I listened to the gentle melody it played as I started to slowly hit my head against the prison wall.
I awoke to the sunlight against my eyes, I was laying on the hard concrete floor. Every joint in my body ached and felt exhausted. My vision was blurry, but I could see something new in the corner of my cell. It was coral, sharp and jagged, spiral patterns decorated its skin and it was alive. It was a shade of yellow, blue, and green— the air felt thick and heavy— as if I was breathing the ocean itself. I started to cough. A policeman approached my cell, he slammed on the bars with his baton and yelled at me. Then he saw the coral, and he fell.
Then another policeman came.
And another.
They learned eventually. Now three policemen laid, dead, at the foot of the cell. I kept my gaze at the coral. Watching it grow with my own eyes as it reaches out towards me. The swirls and twists of it slowly morphed on the surface. Slowly it molded into Debra’s twisted face. Sour and angry, her smile turned to a frown, two pale eyeballs peeked from behind the lips.
I crawled away from it and reached my hand through the cell, tearing a pair of keys from one of the dead policemen.
The coral came closer, stretching and bending as if it was the joints of a rotting corpse.
I jammed the key into the cell lock from the outside and managed to unlock it. I slammed the door against the corpses and stumbled out of the cell. I slammed out the front door of the station.
Flashlights beamed into my eyes as I could hear frantic shouting from the policemen outside. I shut my eyes and collapsed on the steps of the station. A moment later all I heard was silence. When I opened my eyes, I saw all the policemen twisted and curved, like coral. Spirals across their skin and their faces moved to other parts of their body. One’s mouth had shifted all the way to their hand. I called out for help, if anyone could help. I looked down at my hands and noticed I was holding a scalpel, a scalpel covered in coral. I dropped it onto the floor, blood decorated its exterior.
I fell into another dream, there upon the front of the station.
I was back in the oasis, half a dozen new men were there, covered in coral growths and twisted limbs. Their faces were sinister, curled, like abominations. I watched as the colossal picked up one of the men and tore them apart. It roared, a roar that shook my very spine. It splattered the man onto its ribcage and turned its head toward another man. The colossal being was— absorbing them.
I knew what I had to do. I’m sorry for doing it, I hope you see now, there was a reason. It had to be stopped.
I slammed my head against the oasis floor and I awoke at the station’s front steps. The coral seeped out of the station, curling and twisted. There was commotion outside, but none seemed to notice me as I crawled away. The coral was following me, I could see it slowly inch by inch, twist its way toward me.
I found myself in one of the police cars, driving this time, seeking a way to end the coral safely, without hurting any more people. I remembered at home, I had a gun, kept underneath the bed. I took care not to speed, I didn’t want to hurt anyone else.
I didn’t want to hurt anyone else.
It wasn’t my intention.
I really didn’t mean to.
I stopped the car at home, I rushed inside, ran into our room and tore the place apart. I was frantic, I didn’t even notice them. The coral started to sprout from me, I could feel the calcium structures start to twist within my stomach. I tore apart the final drawer, the gun seemed to gleam at me.
I picked it up.
“Dad?”
Timmy. I turned to face him, the coral was spreading from my body. I remembered the colossal being, what it was doing. I fired the gun at him. It was a haze from then, I remember a scream… Charles’ scream. I shouted for him, yelling at him to come out. I could feel the coral splinter into every bone of my body tearing my flesh from within. My eyes grew bloodshot and my hand started to seize. I fired the gun throughout the house, again, and again. Charles fled outside, tripping on a piece of coral and slamming his chin into the concrete walkway. I pointed the gun at him as he desperately pleaded with his hands in the air and I shot him.
I turned the gun to myself, pain reverberated throughout my entire body. The coral sprouted from my shoulder, a curling bit of evil that twisted and wriggled. I pressed down on the trigger, and the gun’s hammer struck an empty chamber.
I screamed, I threw the gun onto the street and walked back into the house. Coral had grown all over the inside, so I reached the landline. I dialed you.
“Please send your message after the beep.” It chirped back to me.
I left the phone hanging and walked to our home office, passing by pictures of our family as the coral slowly grew over them. I collapsed in this chair, typing on the computer what had happened. I’m hoping by posting this… you would find it… and understand what happened.
You would understand.