My name is Jonas Gallagher. I am 34 years old and live in the city of Charlottetown in Canada with my Wife, Esme Meredith. My occupation is a technician for the local Police Department, and my Wife takes care of our household and teaches at St. Laurent Elementary. We have known each other for 18 years, ever since I moved here with my family in ‘04 from Stratford after the disappearance of my mother finally ended in ‘03 with the discovery. After that, my father just couldn’t stand the memories constantly staring him in the face in everything he did, and so we came here during my Sophomore year.
I still remember when I met her, my Esme, when we bonded over our common distaste for our homeroom’s Mr. Vandelay and his less-than interesting theatrics that always started our day off terribly. From there, we continued to get closer, and when I turned 23, I married her. There is no greater life I have known than that I have had with her, but I do have something quite peculiar about her that has started.
One night, I woke up in a sweat, and saw the clock strike 3:21 AM while the gentle moonlight lingered on where Esme should have been laying. Wondering what wrought such a sudden strike of consciousness, I looked around me, and then stopped when I saw the window. It was wide open, with a streak of moonlight fluttering in. It was then that I realized a stillness of my body becoming more apparent, and I assumed that my sleep paralysis had likely kicked back in again, though I could speak. I then focused on the center of the room, where I saw a large, looming figure that seemed to be holding the headboard on my Wife’s side, where she was still absent. It seemed many an eternity as I started at him, but very slowly, he left the room, and with him, he took her reading glasses. It must have been a dream, for as more than two minutes went by, I awoke and found my clock to be reading 3:47 AM, an absurd time for sleep paralysis to last. I looked to my Wife’s spot, assuming her presence as I hoped the previous events were all just my imagination, but she was nowhere to be seen, and the moonlight seemed to leave her spot slowly, as though it were dying. Just then, I heard one last thing that night. On my door, were seven knocks, but not from outside, from the inside. I grabbed my flashlight and looked around but found nothing, but an empty silence that grew louder and a decaying darkness which grew wider. I went to sleep, finding no comfort in my hope for tomorrow.
I awoke in a haze. My vision blurred, and my head dazed. I realized the room was exactly like it was the night before, except the alarm clock was stuck at 3:47 AM, which I found quite strange, as that was the same time from the night before- … …. ….. ……
I froze.
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My wife was missing.
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There was a large figure,
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I slowly looked over to where she usually lay, but she wasn’t there. Only an imprint was there.
However, once I looked over to the door, I truly saw her.
She was sitting, right on a large cupboard we have at the foot of our bed for storage, and staring straight at me. Her eyes didn’t contain any malice, nor desire or hatred or kindness or sorrow, simply a solitude. Someone who was just there. Just existing and taking up a volume of space in the room I am in too.
“Honey, are you okay?”
Silence.
“Honey, what’s going on?”
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I started at her. That’s all I really could do in that moment. Just stare at her and wonder what the hell was going on.
I would have moved her, but I just held this strange knowledge that I shouldn’t. That’s when she began to change.
Her eyes, her eyes. God, her damn eyes. They began to swell up from the staring and tears left them for so long I thought she might die. She just stared at me as I watched her eyes. I had to look away.
And then, And then, her arms grew pale and almost yellow, even growing slight holes in them,
Damn it.
And now, her hair, her hair is falling out. What has become of my Wife? Why must I just watch her wither away now? What has become of me?
I cannot leave the room. Nor will she. The time won’t change. The birds don’t sing. We’re just here. I know what my father experienced now, with his loved ones staring him in the face even when they are dead. Please, for the love of God, just die already. Just leave me. I wish it had been me. This is so much worse, no blade has cut deeper than her eyes cut my heart. Why does she keep on looking at me?
Why does,
Why does she?
What is she doing? What was her name, Her name,
It was something, I know this.
I know what her name is, her name, her name is..
It’s on one of her documents, like her driver’s license, her office, her grave, Her grave,
I remember a grave that had her name on it, but I have been too afraid to go. Why didn’t I go? I’m too afraid to even look behind me right now at her. Whatever she is now. Whatever now is. Is the clock still stuck? Maybe I’m stuck. Stuck in my memory. Stuck in my head.
Why did I never visit her grave? Why can’t I remember her name? Why can’t I,
What can’t I,
Why can’t I