It was pitch black.
No luminous moon shone in its slumber, nor were there candescent stars blanketing the sky. The darkness obscured everything that was within its reach, merciless as it robbed the light away and rendered the sense of sight useless. In its wake, every other sensation was heightened, and dread dwelled in the tiniest nuances, looming to curse any soul unlucky enough to perceive.
*Ting*
The smell of rot hung in the air, sometimes overpowering, other times mingling with the occasional traces of dewy petrichor and the waft of something rusty. Coldness seeped to the bones and caused the slightest touch to inflict a prickling ache. But despite the pervading decay and the biting chill that usually accompanied a certain season, a fleeting thought rose to mind, ostensively absurd but never questioned. It's not winter.
*Ting*
Nocturnal avian trill could be heard as the wind blew in haunting whispers. With every cry, they seemed to tell of inevitable death and grief, and the succeeding echoes repeated them like an ominous spell. The oscine sound spread in ripples, its highs and lows mixing in chaos, yet in total harmony with a witness's fear-gripped heartbeats. To heedful ears, it took the form of a firm warning. To the more discerning ones, it spoke of a grim prophecy.
Still, every now and then, there would be pauses, like the birds themselves were listening and waiting; and in between these gradual dying of echoes and the brief silence, another eerie noise would resound.
*Ting*
Short, sharp rings resonated as metal struck against metal in a slow sequence, tolling solemnly like a countdown to an unknown corollary. After the third clash, it would stop and the surroundings would still for a second, then two, then three, then four.
And once the world was lulled into a momentary respite, it would come -- the sound of dragging... of iron links pulled along the ground, grating as it passed by rocks and abraded the earth. There were no footsteps, no ragged breathing, no tell-tale signs of life as it advanced in movement; just the steady clinking and rasping of chains inching closer, and closer, and --
*BZZT...Bzzt....Bzzt*
Einz woke up with a start and subsequently spent the next seconds flinching as sunlight assaulted his eyes. He raised a hand to cover his face and fend the offending rays off, but the damage was done and the mental haze brought about by sleep slowly morphed into cognizance. He lay still for a moment, then let out a final yawn as he stretched both arms. Going back to sleep would be a futile effort, he knew as much, so he rubbed the last remnant of drowsiness off his lids and sluggishly sat up. All the while, the phone buried underneath his pillow kept on vibrating.
Is it noon already?
He ignored the phone and studied his surroundings instead.
The bedside window was open and the mint green valance decorating it did very little to block the sun. Next to it, the mahogany table was empty apart from the battleship-shaped case that housed several pens. He didn't have to check to know there were five, and their inks would all be of different colors -- black, red, blue, silver and gold. The mahogany chair that matched the table remained sturdy, the claw marks on the wooden feet still visible. Long ago, a neighbor's cat by the name of Sergeant Paw would trespass into his room and stubbornly ask him for treats by scratching on the said seat. He didn't mind having a quasi pet and their weird dynamic turned into a daily occurrence until he stayed out for college two years ago.
Einz smiled at the recollection, then his sights continued to roam around.
The tribal tattoos wall poster with his tiny doodle on the bottom left part, the tall white closet that was just as old as him and creaked whenever it was opened, the Dragon Age calendar that was kept hanging despite being four years outdated, the mirror beside the varnished narra door that was fastened higher and higher as he grew over the years -- everything was where they had been before... unchanged, predictable, familiar.
I'm home.
He let that single thought sink in and took several deep breaths to ease himself. Only after feeling a little relaxed did he allow himself to think back to his dream. Recalling it couldn't be easier, he'd been seeing a similar thing for a while now -- fourteen times to be exact. It wasn't always as long, the recent one being the most complete version he saw thus far. The previous others would come in fragments as he flickered in and out of consciousness. At first, it was just the dark and the cold. The second time, it was the dark and the damp smell; the eerie sounds alone on the third. Yet all the while he knew they were all the same dream, and every single time, he would wake up with anxiety gnawing at his psyche.
He should've grown used to it by now, perhaps even desensitized by the sheer number of times it transpired, but Einz just got more agitated as the days passed. He called it intuition and left it at that. Something had definitely changed since the first time the dream occurred less than a month ago, a shift he couldn't quite pinpoint despite being certain it happened, and this inexplicable incongruity made his apprehension hit its apex.
I'm good. Everything's still fine.
His clumsy attempt at positive pep talk rarely worked but he figured he had to start somewhere. Acknowledging that nothing bad or disturbing had happened yet, was an idea that grounded him to some extent. Not enough to drive the nagging feeling away but just right to stop himself from acting impulsively out of paranoia.
He stood up, straightened the sheets and finally reached for his phone. The vibration had stopped but the screen was still lit and the notification pop-up was visible. It was a reminder of his routine consultation with his doctor two days hence and he almost laughed at the impeccable timing. It was just what he needed. Maybe he could talk about his dream in their session and find out if it was relevant to his condition. Even if it wasn't, he could always make use of any scientific explanation the doctor could come up with in order to dispel his unease.
Einz shrugged his shoulders, pocketed his phone and headed downstairs. The smell of savory chicken tickled his nose as he descended and his belly eagerly growled. He quickened his steps, marching straight to the table where the enticing aroma came from. After his five-hour travel home and the short nap upon arriving that left no room for a real meal, his stomach was now demanding a hearty compensation and he was more than happy to oblige.
"Great timing," his sister Quinn remarked as soon as he entered the dining area. She placed a pair of spoon and fork on the last empty plate then beckoned for him to sit beside their father. "Come on, lunch is ready."
Einz, who needed no convincing, washed his hands then promptly sat and delighted himself at the mini feast laid before him. The circular table boasted several dishes, with his favorite chicken risotto served in the largest casserole.
"You're here a'right. Eat up, sweetie," his mother hummed as she rotated the turntable, bringing the risotto closest to him. It was obvious that the food was mainly for Einz, the beloved youngest child they only got to see during summer breaks. He would call religiously every week but being the baby of such a tight-knit family, he was always missed and therefore pampered whenever he was home.
"Ma, if you spoil me like this I'll quit college, stay here and be a bum," he quipped in mock seriousness, even nodding his head to look like he was earnestly contemplating the idea.
"No, no. Can't do that. Don't be a bum," Mrs. Grayver chuckled before flicking her youngest son's forehead. "You have to get married and give me grandchildren."
"Yeah, kiddo," agreed his dad with a teasing tone. "And you need a job for a woman to want to marry you. And said job is only possible when you have a degree."
Einz snorted. There were loads of things he found problematic about his parents' statements regarding the subject of diploma, job and marriage. But he knew that they were just being facetious so he just shook his head and reluctantly simpered. On the other hand, Quinn, who's eight years older than him and a more frequent recipient of such casual comments, was chortling merrily.
As lunchtime progressed, the conversation shifted into more mundane things, allowing Einz to catch up on recent family happenings including his mom's home shopping extravaganza and his dad's curiosity and eventual delving into the world of TikTok. Quinn didn't have much going on except for her dissertation -- apparently, you could only finish one once you'd dedicated yourself to having no life, her words not his.
It was only during dessert that the focus of the chat diverted back to him as his mother inquired about his health.
"Have you had any episodes lately? You never mentioned them in your calls," she tried to deliver lightly but the worry in her voice remained evident.
"Twice this semester, Ma. But nothing serious really," he replied, feeling the sudden shift in the atmosphere as soon as he did.
"What is 'nothing serious'?" his father followed up carefully.
Einz paused for a moment, considering his next words. He didn't want to make a big deal out of it, while at the same time, he didn't want to omit too many details because his parents were prone to filling in the blanks with the worst case scenarios and overanalyzing. "Hmm, I fell asleep during a lecture. The other time happened in my dorm room. Both situations were handled just fine. No injuries, no problems."
The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.
He felt the need to stress his last sentence to alleviate their concern. After all, his condition caused him to fall asleep at the most inopportune moments, and there were instances when he'd acquire several bruises or suffer a concussion from falling or bumping into something during an attack.
"How long did the episodes last? Have you had cataplexy?" his mom continued with questions.
"Around fifteen minutes each," he answered after taking a spoonful of ice cream. "And no, I haven't had cataplexy since..."
His voice trailed and his eyes automatically wandered to the side of the wall where a precious picture used to hang. The space currently held a framed cross-stitch landscape, a bright scenic needlework he would've constantly admired if he didn't know the reason for its existence or if he somehow managed to forget.
The ice cream in his mouth still tasted sweet but it couldn't lift his mood. No one spoke for a moment and he knew why -- they were all remembering the same thing.
"What about Dr. Winston, what did he say?" his father asked measuredly, not allowing the silence to drag on any longer.
"He's still monitoring my condition every month so I'll see him on Monday. I've had less attacks lately so I'll say the meds are effective and--"
"I'm sure you're getting better. No cataplexy, less attacks... I bet that time you slept at a lecture was mostly because it was boring," Quinn cut in as she passed onto him a plate half-filled with fruits. "Here, have some strawberries."
Einz threw a grateful smile at his sister. He didn't want to dwell too much on the subject but he just didn't have the skills to divert a conversation as smoothly as she could. "I'll accept the strawberries only because you just lost a bet. Who said that lecture was boring? It was Advanced Calculus!"
"My point exactly. Nothing makes for a better lullaby than a professor droning on and on about integration," she deadpanned.
Einz childishly stuck out a tongue at her and Quinn retaliated by punching his arm lightly and calling him 'nerd'. They bickered some more after that, scooping spoonfuls of ice cream in between until they emptied the plastic container, the atmosphere turning cheery yet again. Their mother sneakily commented that next time they should try the spicy sorbet she saw on a poster; she just didn't know if her husband would be up for it. Being suddenly put on a spot, Mr. Grayver grunted and rolled his eyes but he eventually relented.
And just like that, lunch was over and Einz volunteered to clean up the table and wash the dishes. He didn't mind doing the chores, it was after all a worthwhile way to pass time. But now that he was left in the kitchen alone, his previous concerns began to trickle back in -- his scheduled check-up, his bizarre dream and the sense of foreboding he couldn't seem to shake.
Watching the stream of water flow down the faucet, he inhaled deeply then exhaled slowly. It took several breaths to muster a resolve and decide. He couldn't permanently shut off his mind from various thoughts and worries but for now, he would focus on the meager task of washing dishes and keep at it. He could overthink the complicated stuff again later.
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The afternoon was uneventful and so was the rest of the day. By the end of dinner, Einz had started warming up to the idea that perhaps, today was going to be ordinary and that his agitation was likely unfounded. He even got into the mood for a quick run at the nearest 24/7 convenience store for evening drinks.
Four-O-Four Mini Mart was a place frequented by office workers from a nearby firm and the usual commuters at Line 6 bus stop, so at half past nine on a weekend night, it was practically empty. Einz didn't have any problem navigating the shelves and he got into impulse buying mode at once, purchasing more than what he initially intended to. He grabbed ten chocolate bars, hesitated for a minute then took six large potato chips snacks, all the while convincing himself that he would only eat them on cheat days. Due to his illness, he had been adhering to a healthy lifestyle all year long and he deemed it forgivable to use summer break as an excuse to escape from his strict diet a little. Just a little.
The walk-in freezer located at the left side of the store displayed a rather tempting assortment of refreshments and Einz let himself be lured. After checking for expiration dates, three jelly yogurts were soon added to his basket before he reached the beverage section. As he lowered his basket to open the reach-in refrigerator, he vowed to get nothing else aside from his favorite fruit juice and flavored milk.
Then it happened.
An intense jolt rocked his body, forcing him to close the fridge in reflex. The cacophony of sounds inside the establishment grew deafeningly loud for a second then dwindled progressively, slipping further and further away. Everything he focused on turned into hazy shapes zooming in and out, and as the spell of dizziness hit, he leaned his back on the glass door and closed his eyes.
When he opened them, his vision was normal once again yet it was still quiet. Too quiet.
One, two, three, four, five...
He recited mentally, trying to even out his breathing as he counted. The despotic silence hid even the sound of his heart yet a quick touch on his chest betrayed its erratic beating. His nervousness grew by the second, as was the urge to scream, but he tried to suppress them both. He opted to continue observing his surroundings and soon enough, he noticed another peculiarity.
There were black dots forming in his field of sight, multiplying every time they collided with each other. The frantic swarm they created soon began to spread through the whole store and even outside, hovering in space unaffected by the actions of the other people around. When no one else seemed to notice, Einz readily accepted the idea that he was hallucinating.
And here I thought I'll never have to deal with this... Looks like I need new meds.
He sighed in resignation. He wasn't sure whether to be relieved that he came up with an explanation for his current situation or frustrated that he had supposedly developed yet another symptom. He might even have to get his ears checked this time around. Nonetheless, he comforted himself with the fact that his scheduled consultation with Dr. Winston was just around the corner. Soon, he'd be able to get additional treatment and whatever it was he was undergoing now would just be another entry on his medical record.
Or so he thought.
Suddenly, the black dots scattered in the area turned into crimson and burst, spurting forth like ink blots on a canvas. The spaces stained by each spatter were bathed by its color, appearing like images viewed through tinted glasses. The transformation was hypnotic, just as much as it was scary, that Einz stared unblinkingly until the whole surroundings was painted with a bloody glow. With the change of the ambient hue came the stretching of time, and everything seemed to move in delayed animation.
From the corner of his eye, he saw a car pass by in slow motion. It wasn't the only vehicle visible from his position near the storefront but it was the only one that called his attention. His vision was clouded in red but he could somehow tell that the coupe was originally silver. A lady not much older than himself sat behind the steering wheel and a bouquet of flowers rested uprightly on the passenger seat. He watched her drive by until the angle obscured the windshield from view.
What was left to be observed after that was the car's large door sticker, its winged serpent design peculiarly placed. Any sensible person would have the reptile's head facing forward, but this one was facing the rear, as if it was turning tail. He vaguely wondered if the other side was of a similar aesthetic.
"Hey..."
An almost inaudible whisper reached his ears as he followed the excruciatingly sluggish movement of the car.
"Hey..." it tried again, a little louder the second time.
When Einz turned his head to the direction of the voice, it was like he was pulled out of a trance. Regular sounds returned, the surroundings displayed its usual color and everything was moving at a normal pace once again. Nothing concrete was left to prove that the strange events of the last few minutes actually happened; and to say that the circumstance bothered him was indeed an understatement.
He was ready to reflect further on his experience then and there, if not for the shorter guy standing uncomfortably beside him.
"Excuse me, hmmm. Can I...?" the guy gestured stiffly towards the refrigerator.
"Oh, of course," Einz mumbled as he hurriedly stepped out of the way, bringing his basket with him. "Sorry 'bout that."
The guy politely assured him it was no problem and Einz nodded in passive concession.
He had already walked two shelves away from the fridge when he remembered he was yet to get his own drinks, the very reason he went to the store in the first place. The other customer was still at the section he left and remembering their awkward encounter, he chose to wait from a good distance away and checked his phone while he's on it. As far as he was concerned, the strange part of his day was already over, so he had not expected to once again be astounded when he looked at his digital clock lockscreen.
It read: Saturday, 10:42PM.
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Einz had been lying awake on his bed for some time now, his mind boggled by countless thoughts. He couldn't even remember how exactly he went home or how he paid for his purchase -- which he did, as evident by the receipt stapled on the plastic bag he brought home. And since no one had chased after him to prove otherwise, he reckoned he did a decent enough job of passing as a sentient human, dazed as he was.
After exhausting himself from thinking about all the events that transpired and getting nowhere, he decided to finally spare himself and rest. He took one last bleary look at his phone before slipping it under his pillow.
❬Sunday, 2:18 AM❭
"Tomorrow..." he told himself as his eyelids fluttered close. I'll stick it out today and get answers tomorrow.
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"Morning, kiddo," Mr. Graver greeted as soon as he saw his son.
"Morning..." Einz replied with a yawn. Four hours of sleep was hardly sufficient but the habit of waking up at six o'clock was so deeply entrenched in his bones that it was a real pity sometimes. To make up for it, he decided to take another nap after lunch.
"There are sandwiches on the table, sweetie," his mother remarked.
"Thanks, Ma.”
Einz headed to the kitchen, washed his hands then took two of the aforementioned sandwich on the dining table. Seeing that there were three more left, he inferred that Quinn was likely still asleep and hadn't had breakfast yet. Waking up earlier than her felt like an achievement of some sorts, even though it was almost always the case.
Taking a bite on one of the sandwiches, he walked towards the living room where his parents sat on a sofa, watching TV together.
"Westcreek? That's not very far from here," his father commented.
Einz glanced at the television and saw a report about a tragic car accident. His chewing gradually slowed and an overwhelming sense of doom stirred within him.
❬❬...crashed into a concrete barricade. The driver died on the spot...❭❭
When the camera panned to the scene of wreckage, the broadcaster's voice became a static background to his ears. A lump formed in his throat as he fought the urge to retch. The news showed a mangled silver coupe with some parts of the image blurred on purpose, but Einz could tell there were blood, glass shards and flower petals strewn across the asphalt. Just as he could tell that the missing car door contained the body of the winged serpent decal. The head of the serpent suffered little damage and there it remained like a mute accuser, its menacing slitted eye seemingly glaring at him from across the screen.