I woke up at 2:43 AM to an endless silence. I don’t remember the events of that night, but I can remember the static electricity in the air as I was wrenched back to reality in a cold sweat. Another nightmare. I threw my covers onto the floor and rubbed my temples, attempting to dispel the headaches that persisted, despite my best efforts. You’d think my taxes paying for healthcare meant you wouldn’t deal with quacks, but they just told me that there was no “source” for my headaches and that I’d just have to deal with them for the time being. At least they gave me a prescription of Tylenol, how generous… I walked towards the bathroom, down the corridor of my run down, piece of shit apartment. Neighbours arguing all times of the night, cars passing by just when I’m on the edge of sleep, you get the gist. I flicked on the flickering light and took one with a quick gulp of water, eager to wake up in the dim morning light.
I stood there for a minute, collecting my thoughts and hating how patchy my stubble looked in the mirror, when I felt a coldness wash over me. You know that feeling when you dip your toe into cold water, and your entire body reacts. It felt like that, a constant chill crawling over my entire body with thousands of jittering legs. I stepped out, moving towards my tiny living room. I’d left the TV on. Yet, instead of being met with something stupid on a non-descript news channel, it was a still frame. There was no static, or sound, just a still frame illuminating the entire room in daunting blue light. All I can compare it to is two people in the midst of the conversation, but something about their faces was wrong. I felt the chill again, and acknowledged the silence. The silence. No noise, not above or below. That… wasn’t right. I held my ear up to the walls, but there were no sounds. I opened my windows, listening for the passing of a car or a distant honk. Nothing. As I started to get unnerved, I looked up at my clocks and felt my chest tighten.
This probably deserves an explanation. I inherited my love of clocks from my dad, God rest his soul. He enjoyed fixing analog clocks, and sometimes when he couldn’t get it back to its best condition, he’d let me have it. It spiralled from there. I collected them for years, and when he finally passed away, I kept them as a memento. So, I promise I’m more earnest and less of a serial killer. All I can say is that five clocks had all stopped at the same time; 2:43 AM. I stepped forward to get a better look, reaching out. Beneath me came the sudden creaking of the floorboard. As soon as the sound came out, I woke up in my bed. I wasn’t sweating, I had simply startled myself awake. I thought it was just a weird dream. Funny how fast your perspective can change.
The phenomena didn’t stop there. I chalked it up to a weird dream, went to work, then came home and enjoyed a drink or two. I watched some sports, made dinner. I didn’t do anything interesting. I went to sleep around 10, and had another nightmare. Once again, I struggle to remember it, but I remember that I was in a pitch black room. In the distance was the sound of footsteps rising. At some point, I’d wake up. Then, I was back in the apartment at 2:43AM. Initially, it was small things. Lights in my apartment stopped working, the TV showed other incomprehensible visual gibberish, my curtains refused to open despite the severity of my protests. All that remained the same was that the time stopped at 2:43 AM, and that the creaky floorboard was the only thing to wake me up. Sometimes I’d sit there, for what felt like hours, accepting the silence. Not even a passive ringing in my ears, just pure quiet. It was relaxing, especially to take in the small view out of my window. It was one night, after I’d stumbled my way into bed after a long session of drinking with my friends downstairs, and I passed out over my bed.
It started the same, as usual. I woke up in a cold sweat, head pounding relentlessly. I sat there for a moment, and I felt like I was forgetting something. It felt like something had happened in that dream, but it was gone before I could grasp it, so I just moved on. Bathroom, Tylenol, look around. This time… I heard something. It was subtle, like an illusion, but it stood out against the backdrop of nothingness. That was already enough to unnerve me, but I decided that I needed to be brave. Besides, it was in the direction of my only escape. I approached my living room, my hand leaning on the wall. I peeked in, listening. Just the TV, showing something. I wandered over, cautious but curious. Seems like it was the two people again, talking with their uncanny appearances. I stood and stared, bored. It was likely the least interesting one of the things I’d seen.
I felt a tinge of regret in my callousness when, patiently, the two people began to stir. Their conversation came to life, deafened. Then, slowly, they turned to face the TV screen head-on. I almost tripped backwards, seeing how their heads were malformed and bent like 2D objects attempting to project themselves on a 3D plane. Their eyes were watching me, I could tell. I felt it. I rushed over to the window, though I don’t know why. Perhaps that same naive hope of seeing a car rush past, like the first time I was here, hoping it was just another nightmare. I forced my curtains aside, as they silently rolled on their rails until they stopped at the very edge of the frame. I was met with a thick fog. So thick it appeared to cling to my window, pushing against the glass. I stepped back, looking up at the clocks again. The same time. The same dream. No, the same nightmare. I slammed my fist onto the lightswitch, and it worked. Seeing light made it less terrifying. That was until the lightbulb turned off, then on, and began to flicker violently. Screw this… I’d officially had enough of my screwed up head. I moved to the floorboard, stomping my foot down with eagerness. I stomped on it again, and again, and again. It didn’t make a sound, and I felt my heart drop from my chest.
Before I could begin to panic over that, something else took priority. I felt something creeping up, and got the chills from the feeling of being watched. The sound, the one that had spurred me here in the first place. It was coming from behind the curtain. Behind the tiny space between the wall and the windowsill, covered by fabric. It began to grow louder, ascending like its origin was climbing a winding set of stairs. Coming up, higher and higher, just like in those nightmares. I stepped back, clutching the wall for support. My legs felt like jelly. Then, it paused. It didn’t stop, it paused. It sounded like a broken theremin, squealing and growling. Against the grey mist emerged a clawed black hand, visible as the light continued to lose its shit and TV light poured out of the screen. Patiently, the hand gripped the curtain tightly, pulling itself out. A long black arm protruded out, becoming longer and longer until it defied the realm of possibility. My legs had moulded into concrete. Then, came a leg. Then another leg, creeping along the windowsill with terrifying cartoonishness. Like a burglar creeping along, shushing the audience. Another arm planted onto the glass, and the figure fully emerged. Its entire body unfurled like rope.
Despite how deep its visage is etched into my brain, I still struggle to recall it. It was like a stick figure, given the bare minimum of human-like features. Its fingers were long, jagged needles. Its feet were stubs, perfectly round where the feet should be. Every part of its body was too long, comically so. Its head… When it emerged, it held the uncanniness of the TV people. Obviously, it was much more horrifying, but it was the first thing I looked down at.
They were smiling at me, pleasantly. Disgustingly, petrifyingly pleasant. I felt that sensation in my fucking soul, how wrong its face was. Then, it stopped again, its sound scraping against my eardrums, clawing and burrowing inside. I stepped back again, dizzy from fear. I heard nothing, but clearly, it did. Its head turned, and the same abomination pushed through the air in a disjointed manner, like its head was being pushed into the position. I heard something cracking, but its figure was entirely too thin to have bones. All I know is, it loomed over until its head tapped the ceiling, then began scuttling along the walls. I immediately turned tail, running into the bathroom. Its squeaks grew closer, so I did the stupidest thing I could think of and leapt into the bathroom. I held the door shut with all my might, pulling and sobbing as the door pounded and pounded without a single sound. All I could hear was the panting of the creature outside, that same distorted squealing constantly playing.
Its body crashed into the door. It weighed impossibly more than it appeared, but I forced my back against that tiny barrier between us and managed to wedge my foot on the toilet. That gave me some confidence in holding it back. That’s how I felt until the sound skulked away. I didn’t dare move. Apparently, I wasn’t as dumb as it thought I was, because I was fully prepared for another sudden barrage of squeals and scrapes as it kept pounding and pounding to get inside. I wasn’t crying anymore, or if I was, I couldn’t tell. I felt numb. My entire body was beyond my control, I was fully enveloped in my instincts. The needles trickled under the doorway, and began to stab into my skin. I tried to ignore it, but I couldn’t. I leapt away, and that mistake was enough for it to barrel in. It watched me, twisting its head to get a better look at me. Getting closer, my head screaming in agony as the sound just gets louder. I held my hands over my ears. In my own head, I heard myself screaming in pain.
I woke up. My entire body and bed was drenched in sweat, it had even gotten into the sheets. It took me a minute, but I realised that I was still screaming. At this point, I don’t think I had any choice in the matter. Unleashing everything I couldn’t do in that forsaken nightmare. It was enough for my friend, Tommy, to bust open my bedroom door and find me in an utter state. I couldn’t even begin to explain, so he just hugged me. I didn’t say anything. I got a shower, called in a sick day, and decided to stay at Tommy’s for the night. Alcohol helped, I can’t lie.
It’s 2AM right now. I’m scared, really scared. One night, I didn’t sleep to get work done, and it didn’t happen. Maybe that’ll happen again, right? Right? There’s no point asking you, huh? You can’t answer me. This is just… a way of coping. I heard it, by the way. Washing my face with cold water, I closed my eyes and I heard the sound again. Even as I write this, it feels like everything is getting quieter. I’m too afraid to turn the TV on, just in case I see those people again. I feel like an utter mess. Tommy went to sleep around 11, he has work too. He offered to stay up longer, but I shot him down. He was almost insistent on it, but I don’t want him to worry that much. It’s my problem, after all.
I can’t skip two days of work in a row, I don’t have the money. He gave me an alarm clock, digital, since I start later in the day than he does. It was a nice gesture and all, but I’m pretty sure that it’s broken. It just reads 1:17.
If I live, (haha, bad joke…) I’ll make sure to let you know how it goes. Positive mindset, right? Wish me luck.