It’s 2:38 A.M.
Of all Night’s children, she cradles this hour closest to her.
It’s an hour of phantoms.
This is the third night in a row I’ve woken up around this time with an audible “Hello?” escaping my lips.
I’m on the top floor of an old machine shop my family owns, in a dingy apartment, sleeping on a futon with one of those shitty 2” thick cushions you make your friends sleep on when they’re too drunk to go anywhere else.
Not that I have any friends these days.
How I got here is another story altogether.
And it’s not the point.
The point is — this is the third night in a row I’ve heard someone open the door downstairs from the office and step up onto the landing and wait there, for God knows how long.
I call out as I’m rousing from my sleep to my unwelcome visitor…
Nothing.
I thought it was just a hypnagogic hallucination at first, but tonight the wood panels on the landing creaked as I called out. It wasn’t easy to snap myself awake (I may have been experiencing some form of mild sleep paralysis), but I heard that goddamned creaking after I sprung up.
I swear it.
Who could be down there just waiting for me in the dark? Are they laughing at me inside of that sick head of theirs?
Maybe I’m the one who is sick. They’ve had enough of me withdrawing from everyone and everything, and they’ve decided to mock me down there where the light won’t reach.
I know I could turn the light on on my phone and just see for myself, but I don’t think I can bear to discover who might be lingering. There are so many. All of them bad.
All of them disappointed. All of them ready for me to check out for good. There’s no grand life coming for me and they’re tired of me trying and failing.
But still, which one?
I’m typing this because the blue light from the screen comforts me.
Her? No not her. She’s not coming back. I can’t decide whether I’m happy she’s living the life she wanted or in despair because she’s living it without me. I guess it’s a bit of both.
But she’s not coming back.
No friends anymore. Not altogether my fault, but nevertheless they’re gone. Besides. They don’t have the code to the office door.
Shit. Another creak on the landing and then a deep sigh from weighty lungs.
God, why?! Just let me die in peace. Not in terror. I’m so afraid of everything.
Everyone in my life. Please, just let me die in peace.
… just now there were three soft taps on the handrail. I called out “Hello?” again — and nothing.
I’m going to turn the light on on my phone and cast its beam down to the landing, and if I make it back alright, I’ll get back to you.
It was me down there. Staring up into my eyes.
Naked.
I screamed, and the other me said nothing. He - I just smiled and then walked down the stairs and closed the door for good.
Goodbye, me. Stay out of my dreams if you can help it.