A Weeknight Excursion

I shut down my computer and turn off the TV only because I am the last one awake in my house. The light is still on over the center of the kitchen but the rest of the house is engulfed in darkness. The lights flicker once only to signify the transference of energy from my mind into reality. My imagination begins to gear up for true use as my senses begin to dull and forget how to operate. I know what is coming next because it happens every night and every day. It's all a part of my daily life but it still keeps me from sleeping. My heart begins to race because it knows no other method or action. It only speeds and my brain is simply flooded with fear.

I see the shapes of my dreams inching in the corners of my eyes as the fear reeks from my brain. I know there is nothing that I can do to stop any of it from happening. I know that they are there and yet they all somehow manage to make sure that when I look for any of them, they have all inexplicably moved away from where they should be. There is nothing anywhere for me to perceive. And yet, when I turn back towards the light I see the movement once again; right where I was looking. I glace one more time but again I see blank walls and only hear my heart pounding through my ears. My vision begins to blur in accordance with the beating and my head turns to a melting temperature and my face as red and the center of the sun. But no one can see me for I am all alone and I know that no one would be able to save me, least of all, myself.

The faces begin to pop up in the window directly next to me; murderers, victims, faced beings, faceless creatures. They begin to "visit" me and make sure that I will not feel at ease. I stare at where they should be but, much like the shadows of my nightmares, they are non-existent when I look for them. I glance across my backyard only to see the man with his knife, waiting for me to take my place, lying down in my bed, in the dark for him to take my soul and body. I figure that maybe if I don't look at him maybe he won't exist and if I don't go to bed, he won't come for me. With a swift, non-existent motion, he glides across the grass, as if he is floating with no resistance. He slams his fist against the glass to make sure that I feel the need to get up. I haven't moved yet, but he knows that his job of getting me to try and sleep is completed. He storms away and vaporizes into the shadows.

I collect my things and move towards the kitchen. I take a final drink of water and look back at the clock sitting above the stove; 2:41. I know that it is much too late for me to be awake but I also know that there is no way for me to fall asleep. I reach for the switch on the wall, just next to the phone that I wish I could use to call my savior. I know though, that if I call anyone at this hour, I simply will be mocked for seeing nothing and wasting time. I cannot use my one savior device because, in all reality, there is nothing to save me from. But it all seems so real and existent that I cannot deny its presence. I feel that maybe I should call someone, anyone; maybe I will get some real help, instead of saving. I just need examination. But there is no one to call for that kind of help that I know of.

I look back at the clock only to see its flickering, green lights casts a terrorizing reality; 2:41. I have been frozen for nothing, and no time. Maybe, time stopped with me and the reason I cannot move is because only my conscious is really outside of the river of time. But then the clock ticks over to 2:42 and I realize that my mind was just working at a mile-a-minute. I look back to my outstretched hand reaching for the switch on the wall. I still do not know what I should do. My real problem with not moving is that if I move towards the wall, I will also be engulfed by the shadows and darkness, but if I move away from the wall, I never will be able to go where I need to be. Away.

The shadows in the ends of my eyes begin to return and dance for me once again. I know that they are getting closer, but every time I look they still seem to ignore my existence by not showing themselves to me in full frontal view. I keep darting my eyes around and glancing at where they all should be but refuse to relay themselves to me.

I then look back to the fog-encrusted night to see that the man is back in the windows. He is trying to punch through the glass this time. He is yelling and screaming at me to "Just go the fuck to sleep." He "Needs me asleep for his release." His voice sounds like someone tore out his voice box, smashed it into a blender and then shoved it back into his throat upside-down. The blood leaking from his eye-sockets proves that he cannot see in a traditional sense, but he doesn't need to, merely feel them in their final breaths; their swan songs and his ballad. His face looks like a mixture of blank paper and a Jackson Pollock painting made only with blood and feces. His hand has sewing marks all along every ridge and so many scars that I think that no one in their right mind would have ever created him.

His manifestation begins to shake my mind uncontrollably as the pounding on the glass continues to beat in my chest. I feel myself being pushed and I fall to the ground in a feeling of disarray. The shadows had finally made their move and had decided to make me suffer on the ground instead of standing. I know that no one heard me fall because no one could possibly be awake to see me in this state. The man at the window breaks through the glass and climbs across the sink. The jagged pieces of broken window start to tear and pull at his "skin" and begin to take him apart. He doesn't seem to care though, as he pulls himself through the wreckage. More blood is now streaming across his body from the broken glass and he finally stands. He stares down at me with a condescending sneer. "How dare you ever think that your eyes were ever worthy of my visage." He commands the shadows to go back where they came from and stay locked in their picture frames until tomorrow night when I will be stuck down again. I see by his shadow that he is pointing his knife at me and begins to move closer to my body. I am frozen. My entire body is frozen. I cannot move. I cannot scream. I cannot breathe. Nothing is working for me, only my fear.

I then hear a car moving by the house outside. Maybe it's the college-age kids from down the street who have no lives and no jobs. Maybe they're back again, racing past midnight with their cheap, broken-down cars, trying to be special when they have nothing going for them. Maybe it's some parent driving their kid to sleep with the soothing sound of a car engine and slow music.

Suddenly, my senses and actions return as I realize where I am. I am still on the floor of my house waiting to be killed. I blink twice and shoot my eyes up to where the man of my nightmares was standing.

There is nothing. Right where I thought was my everything was, simply a sink with two untouched windows above it. I know not what I saw in my past, but maybe I am already sleeping.

As I lay in a pool of fear and quivering imagination, I look over to the flickering light perched above the counter top, only to see what might be even more fearful that those surrounding me and my mind; 4:26. I have been awake for far too long for my brain to allow me solace and simple, peaceful operation. So, I figure the best way to move forward would be to stand back up and finally turn off the lights.

I stand.

I stop.

I look

I reach. I do.

The darkness engulfs me, and my mind begins to return to its fragile state. The man is back in the window and the shadows have shaken free from their frames.

I pick up all of my things and move to the stairs. I keep my head down so I can see where I am going without having to see everything around me. I make out the shape of the stairs and move quickly towards them without a second thought. The shadows begin to follow me and whisper into my ears. "Turn back and let us have you. You are more special to us than him." This is when I realize that there was a competition happening for my soul. The shadows of frozen visages past wanted me and the man outside wanted me. I look up from the base of my stairs to the front door looming a mere step away. The two tall, tight windows to the sides of my primary escape showed me the yard of which could be my doom.

The man with the knife then unfolded from the ditch and began to march for the house. I freeze in my tracks yet again, for whatever reason I am still unable to free myself. He reaches the front walkway and speeds to the window on the right of the door. His face is pressed against the window so the fluids smeared down where I used to wait for my friends to arrive. He growls in a gurgled voice "They don't care for you, only I can truly care for you. You are my creator and director and I will help you complete everything you once tried." I figure he means my attempts and failures and I think that maybe it would not be the worst thing for someone else to have the ending reins.

I realize that I have been standing here for far too long without responding and I begin to climb the stairs. I feel all of their eyes digging into my back as I made the choice to turn away from all of them. They all despise me simply because I do not want to listen to their voices in my head anymore. I don't want someone else to dictate my life unto death; especially at this hour. I stop on the landing and think, "maybe I should turn back to them. They all do care about me." I usher the thought away because I know that it is total mental bullshit. Nothing and no one cares about me because I don't want them to. This is better if I leave them all alone.

I made it over the initial nine quickly and the second seven come and go immeasurably fast as I dart into my room. I turn on the light to have all of the shadows disappear. With the shades drawn I know that I cannot see the painting of pain haunting my mind. I slowly set down my things and close my closet. I turn off my lights and lay down in my bed. I know that there is nothing there but I feel like I am still being watched. I hear the voices of the defeated shadows move back to their paintings on the walls below me. I feel him drag himself back into his own mind outside. I know that I have defeated them all for another night, but now begins the second journey. Rather than existing in the "real" world, I must travel into my mind and fight myself to survive mentally for the next day that is already here and upon me.

I roll over and turn on my music player to an album that can truly lull me to sleep and I put it on infinite repeat. I make sure the volume isn't too high and lay back on my pillow. I still feel insecure and bare. I pull up my covers to my chest and grab the knife from my bedside table to feign self-confidence and protection.

Maybe I will have to fight my way through my mind-scape, but at least I will have a weapon.

As I drift off to an undisturbed slumber my eyes begin to feel heavier and heavier. I know that I am finally going to sleep and maybe I will rejuvenate a little more.

At that moment my closet opens.

He crawls out.

He jumps on top of my body and I am again immobilized.

He pulls away my knife and throws it across the room.

His knife enters my abdomen and He drags it up to my chest. He leans down next to me and whispers into my ear, "Sweet dreams, princess. See you tomorrow night." I feel each and every tear he creates in my body. Slicing apart my skin as my blood quickly spurts and pours out to the sheets around me. He begins pulling my intestines out like they are stuffing from a small toy. I scream and writhe as the pain seems unbearable. I can feel my lungs gasping for air through my throat when they are really open to the air themselves. He then grabs my faces as He pushed my eyes to the back of my sockets. I feel them pop under the pressure. I let out a guttural shriek but it comes out as a gargle and more blood floods my mouth and rolls down my chin. I can no longer hear my own screams over the deafening roar of the maniacal laughs coming from the being above me.

I can no longer see.

I can no longer feel.

I can no longer bleed.

He rolls down next to me leaving his knife in my chest and I slowly am engulfed by the music and black for the final time.