If you ask a scientist such as myself to define ‘instinct’, I will simply tell you that your body is made up of various neurons, most of which are crumpled around three main parts of the human system. In first place is the brain, having an outstanding number of approximately 86 billion neurons working together in relentless harmony that I wish I could see in all of mankind; while the second, the spinal cord, stays in millions, way down to the tail and equally as corresponding.
These cells, of course, carry on multiple purposes, but the gist of it is that the more they are grouped like tangled web after tangled web, the greater they are at processing information.
But the third one, the stomach, otherwise known as the ‘second brain’ for its half-a-billion tally is something more complex. More primitive in nature. While both the brain and the spine’s reactions develop from situations your physical body can attest to and can prevent at any given obstacle like how you immediately balance yourself after a misstep at the bottom of the stairs, ‘gut instincts’ don’t need your eyes or really any of your six senses to alert you of what danger is creeping from an unknown distance. It simply…knows.
That, in turn, sends you into a state of panic; a result of your mind trying to find and fix the problem it cannot comprehend, and the longer you try to pry for a solution, the more adrenaline is produced. But it’s only a matter of minutes until your brain is released from the paranoid grasps of the gut and gets you back to Earth. Logic comes back into action and after turning multiple times in a circle, you’ll see that nothing’s there and laugh it off. Undoubtedly, it’s not enough so you look around for one last time just to be sure and the mind finally relaxes, pushing down the still uncomfortable gnawing in the pits of your stomach which remains for as long as it likes, because of whatever reason I couldn’t figure out until last night.
Still, I was convinced that everything that’s been happening in the last few weeks was a result of my formal leave from the lab. It had to be.
I’d been getting these weird sensations in my stomach after day four of my leave and I impassively chalked it up to a stomach bug due to its severity, one that I acquired because my body was used to working and thinking to the brink of exhaustion for most of the time that I’m awake.
It was only later in the day while buying medicine that I realised how my symptoms weren’t lining up with my predicament that I had that heart-stopping coldness run up my spine. I hadn’t felt it in so long it caught me off guard and so strong that I clumsily dropped the tightly capped Pepto-Bismol I was checking out on the floor. The clacking sound of plastic against alabaster coloured tiles didn’t help with the feeling of dread making its way through the concaves of my brain. In fact, the sound seemed to slowly reverberate off of every surface of the pharmacy.
Relenting to the fear, I turned around and saw a bald-headed, tattooed, mountain of a man in a spiked leather jacket glaring at me on the other side of the isle he was towering over but as soon as he saw me turn to face him, his expression changed to that of concern as he asked me if I was okay. He didn’t seem to want to cause me any trouble after all and I nodded shakily, feeling myself calm down enough to breathe although looking back at the bottle I had picked up, I noticed my hands were cold, clammy and trembling.
The sensation was weird, almost different. I know I’d never been privy to the ins and outs of this kind of ‘instinct’ but I remembered what they felt like, and they weren’t supposed to be that strong, were they?That was the first day. The next time I felt it, I was sitting at the local coffee shop discussing next month’s project with my co-workers when all of a sudden I felt something tight constricting my lower body similar to the unyielding grasp of a determined python. I flinched, coughing up my drink, causing my lab partner Higgins to ask the same question as the man I saw two days prior.
And then came the tickle up my spine as I vehemently moved my head around, looking for any suspicious behaviour on everyone I could land my gaze on but there was, once again, no sign of misconduct. Not one person inside or outside of the building was even bothering to spare me a moment’s glance, too busy in their own little bubble to notice the almost frantic girl in the corner. I sighed and shook my head.
The third time it appeared, I started to get uneasy. It was during a short trip to the grocery store and without warning, the freezing hands of my gut went up to pluck my heart down as soon as I got the feeling of eyes drilling ever so extremely in the back of my head. Three tries. Three tries was all it took for my mind to succumb and flee. I wasted no time and jumped into my car to drive off to home, to safety —
I paused, stopping the car abruptly. Safety from what, exactly? I am a woman of science, damn it!
‘Seeing is believing’, I gritted my teeth as a mixture of emotions flooded through me. I let my gut instincts drive instead of my head. It wasn’t good. It felt like I was betraying myself, all of the control and mental challenges only to be erased by FEELINGS prompted by something I couldn’t see nor prove to be even exist beyond my anxiousness.
Enough was enough.
It was at that time, five days ago, that I ran through different probabilities as quickly as I could and came to the conclusion that I was being stalked, being toyed with.
And I was right. But not in the way I would’ve listed. Not in a way I even thought possible.I was being stalked, yes, not by someone but by something.
I am not one to believe in the supernatural as you might’ve already guessed; but last night, God, I felt it again along with something else.
Two days ago, I had equipped myself with a gun because it wasn’t just eyes that I felt on me anymore, and no longer when I was in public spaces. Instead I knew it was there with me, always beside me in the car, in the store, in my room. I could feel it standing at the foot of my bed every time I reached for the lamp but by all that is mighty, I couldn’t bring myself to turn it off. I still told myself that whoever was stalking me had successfully broken into my house and was waiting for me somewhere in the room. In the closet, or under the bed just waiting for a chance to pounce.
The fear was unbearable by then, stronger than any kind of emotion I’d ever felt before or since. So when morning came yesterday, I had called the cops. Typically, they weren’t convinced that the threat was real and told me to call them when I had real evidence or even a name. By night I had sobbed to Higgins about my misfortune, although only because my gut was driving me crazy with the need for company. And the relief of having someone believe me — or maybe he didn’t and just wanted to be a pillar in my time of need — was my first breath of fresh air since this nightmare had all started.
He stayed the night, offering me words of comfort and agreed to stay up with me to watch whatever movie I wanted. It took some time to get my mind off of everything and focus on the film but as fast as the terror went, it came back when I felt three slow, hard, deliberate pokes on the ball of my right shoulder followed by the call of my name from between me and Higgins.
“Hell-oh, hell…oh,” a sharp, raspy whisper seemed to silence everything around me and by the looks of it, Higgins wasn’t far behind. My blood ran cold and he turned pale as we quickly turned in unison, me having raised my revolver towards who or what it was that had startled us enough to warrant a piss in the pants.
Nothing.
My arms sagged and my knees buckled. Higgins took the liberty to drag me out of the house in a panicked haste all while feeding me questions I wasn’t really answering because for once in almost three weeks, my body felt light without the burden of my stomach telling me something was wrong. I was able to think again and that’s why I am writing this now.
I know a lot of people dedicate their lives to finding a bridge between our world and the hidden but we already have it in ourselves — a way for mortals to sense trouble from the other side, from true evil. To a truly macabre yet fascinating connection to a world most want to reach. Science says these instincts are often wrong when used to judge our fellow man and often not, yes, but maybe because it only applies to something it cannot see; that is, auras invisible to the naked eye or creatures of the veil watching our every move, waiting to strike.
I’m probably wrong on some of that, but for now, it’s a hypothesis and I still need to wrap my head around this discovery.
I don’t know if I’m now a target of some demonic or, otherwise, supernatural entity. I don’t know if it’ll keep haunting me until I’m dead. Hell, I don’t know if I would even be writing this if I didn’t call Higgins, but I do know now that my gut instincts guided me through it. It always will. As for you all, if you ever feel like something is with you in an empty room, maybe even as you read this now, trust what your gut says but don’t forget to think. Stay safe, people.