October Diaries: Waiting
I awake in a fevered state with sweat dripping down my legs. When I manage to squirm out of the damp covers, I find that snow has powdered the carpet of my bedroom. The snow and moonlight are coming in through a hole in the corner of my ceiling, as if a monster had taken a bite out of it while I was sleeping.
Shivering in only boxers, I check the thermostat in the hallway. The heater is turned off, and frost has made its way onto the walls. I watch icy, translucent veins reach from my bedroom, rooting themselves in the doorways and arching up the ceiling, producing more snow that drifts down to my shoulders.
On the dusted floor of the hallway, I see drag marks, as if something has been pulled through, leading to the guest bedroom at the end of the hall.
I look for something to arm myself with and turn back towards my bedroom, only to see my door had been shut without a sound, a lock turned against me. The bathroom in the hallway has a straight razor in the first drawer. I rush to it. That door, too, is locked.
Downstairs, I go to a drawer for a knife. Protruding nail heads catch on my fingers, and wood creaks in protest as I try to pry it open.
The door out of the home is barred with crooked planks of wood, and every other door, window, and cupboard I try has been nailed in. My heart slams while I think of breaking a window to escape, certain that the sound of my panicking is echoing throughout the apartment. I could escape, but nothing besides a forest with trails surround my home for at least a mile.
With a sinking chill in my stomach that is colder than the frosted air, I return to the stairway. At the top, I stare at the drag marks in the snow. Only this time, footprints appear ahead of my steps as if made by a ghost, and streams of blood have begun to slither up from the carpet.
Relieved that it is only a nightmare, I follow the tracks.
The door at the end of the hallway is ever so slightly ajar, with icicles formed on the doorknob. Something behind it is snapping, crunching, grinding its teeth. There is a brief silence, and then a sound like leather being torn apart. Something dripping loudly onto the ground.
I nudge the door open, the frozen hinges cracking.
A creature writhing with maggots and worms is hunched over my corpse, tearing into the organs behind my ribs. Its hands are sopping crimson as I look into my own wide, white eyes staring at me. The lips of my body are moving, but they make no sound. When I get closer to hear what I am saying, the creature turns, the lower half of its face gnashing mandibles and ichor-dripping pincers, the upper half glaring with black, human eyes.
Just as I start to sprint away, I wake up …
In a fevered state with sweat dripping down my legs. The nightmare has me shaking with the image of the monster still in my vision. When I sit up, my head slams with a headache. I look around. The ceiling is untouched, the floor snowless. Still, when I breathe, I see steam wafting from my face. I shake away the nightmare by looking around at the quiet stillness of my room.
Outside my window, the forest’s glittering with snow and rain. I stumble out from the piles of covers, regretting the choice as I feel the freezing air gripping my sides.
In the hallway, the thermostat is turned off. I flick it on, turning back towards my bedroom. That is, until I hear the sound of someone shifting in layers. I turn around, waiting for my eyes to adjust to the darkness. The guest room’s door is ajar.
I live alone. I rent out that room to stranger’s when money is tight. You get the occasional person who sets you on edge, who is too messy or pernicious with their cleaning habits, or the occasional individual who is in and out like a ghost, barely mentioning a word about themselves before they leave.
I haven't had anyone for the last few months.
I slip back into my bedroom and get into a pair of jeans and a shirt. When I look into the hallway, the door is opened wider than it was before. The wind from an open window plays with it more, and the hinges creak as it is waves subtly back and forth.
I lose track of how long I am staring at it. Between me and the door, it feels like miles have stretched, every step’s effort quadrupled by the courage it’d need to take it.
Just as the dream, my instincts pull me toward the shaving razor in the bathroom. Keeping my eyes on the door, I inch forward down the hallway.
One finger at a time, I curl my hand around the bathroom's knob and turn. It’s locked.
Still, the guest bedroom’s door yawns half-open and closed.
As quietly as I can, I backtrack to my bedroom, lock it, and move to my window. I tell myself that the fear of the dream had slipped into reality as I grab my phone. The image of the monster is simply too strong for me to think rationally, I assume, as the window opens easily, and I slide out onto the frozen wall outside. Snow flakes against my skin as I grip the edges of the windowsill, and clamber down until I am on the driveway.
It’s nothing. I locked myself out of my bathroom, and the thermostat had turned off from its automatic settings. The door had been left open when I was cleaning it, and the window being open a crack must’ve been something I never noticed. That is what I tell myself as I go around the side of the house, careful not to crack too many branches. One last precaution, and then I'll go back in, shut the guest room's door, laugh, and get back to sleeping away the winter night.
On the opposite side of the home with a whitened forest looming around me, I look up at the open window of the guest bedroom. Just as I did in the hallway, I stare, uncertain of how much time has passed. My body begins to shake against my will as the snow gathers on my clothes. I clutch my sides, biting back my breath, and continue watching.
Almost everything is numb. My nose begins to drip. I'd imagined all of it, hadn't I?
I start to turn away, but the intuition latches my feet to the ground. I close my eyes and listen.
Still standing beneath the open window, I hear nothing besides branches swaying in howling wind.
I take a deep breath. And then, a heavy sigh. But it wasn't my own. I caught my breath, and had heard the heave of disappointment through the window. The stillness of sound returns, before it is interrupted by the sound of hissing steel. The sharpening of a blade. The creak of the wood as impatient feet get the body to a stand, walking out of the guest room, in search of me.
I turn away towards a trail facing the city lights miles away. As I step into the shadows of the trees, shivering, I hear my bedroom door slam, and an angered scream.