Inside (A Short JSE Horror Fanfiction)
Summary: "Was the nightmare forgotten? Or are you too afraid to remember?"
Warning: This story contains descriptions of violence and gore. So, read at your own discretion.
"So familiar. I wonder. Will I find anything worthwhile inside? I want to know."
September, 2016
"...and I will see all you dudes IN THE NEXT VIDEO!"
With one last set of high fives and a double fist pump, Sean completes another day of recording. He'd just spent the last few hours recording himself playing an incredibly immersive science fiction survival game set on a gorgeous, lush alien planet. Which was made all the better by the fact that it was in VR. He was still riding that gamer's high as he set aside his headset and controllers, then sat down in his chair to begin shutting down the various pieces of equipment. When out of the corner of his eye, he saw something that made his heart plummet down into his stomach. His facecam display was missing.
"Oh, no, no, no, no...!"
Sean reached for his camera. It was cold to the touch. He turned the camera around in his hands and, just as he'd suspected, the display screen was completely black. The battery must have died. But that wasn't possible. Sean distinctly remembered putting in a freshly charged battery before he started recording. He always did. It was a consistent step in his daily routine. Maybe the battery had gone faulty. But that didn't make much sense either since he'd used the same battery the day before and it worked perfectly with no issues.
"Damn it!"
Sean threw his head back and heaved out a loud sigh in frustration as he slumped back into his chair. That game was so much fun to record and one he'd been very excited to post on his channel. Awash with disappointment, Sean considered his options. He wondered how much footage had actually been lost. Judging by how cool it felt, the camera most likely had been without power for a decent amount of time. 'Fuck!' Sean always disliked the idea of having to re-record a video since the reactions wouldn't be as genuine as that first time experience.
Refusing to let this setback drag him down, Sean chose to take a more positive approach to the problem. Perhaps it wasn't as bad as it seemed. The only way to be sure was to get onto his computer and check the files. It was possible that there was enough footage he could salvage and still put together a decent video. He might have to edit in some sort of annotation explaining that his facecam had crapped out. He hoped that was the worst of it. Because the far less desirable option would be to abandon the video altogether.
As he pulled his chair closer to his desktop, he turned and cast a baleful gaze at the camera sitting silently in the corner. Traitor.
Just a few minutes into his work, Sean was distracted by the sound of scraping coming from his right. A small table stood beside his desk. On top of which sat his coffee mug, his phone, a notebook and a couple other random items. He leaned over in his chair to give everything a cursory inspection. But the only conclusion he came to was that he needed to refill his coffee. The sight of that slender, light brown ring slowly drying up at the bottom of the mug, it was nearly as tragic a sight as corrupted video data.
Sean made a mental note to brew up some more in a few minutes. He may just need some caffeinated assistance to deal with this mess.
However, no sooner had he laid his hand down on the mouse, he heard it again. That noise. The scraping. It certainly seemed like it was coming from right next to him. But he quickly dismissed it a moment later when he heard a couple of familiar voices coming from outside. It must have been the neighbors doing something close to his side of the house and his ears were simply playing tricks on him.
Sean had only turned halfway back around when he went completely stopped dead. The sound came again. The sound of ceramic sliding across a smooth surface. The mug. It moved. It barely slid a hair's length, but it definitely did move. Sean glanced down to make certain he hadn't accidentally nudged the table. His breath then caught sharply in his throat as the mug once more shifted every so slightly across the tabletop.
'What in the actual fuck?' Sean was beginning to feel genuinely unsettled. That is, until the rational side of his mind chimed in and told him that, at some point, he must have absentmindedly laid down his mug so that it was resting right up against his phone. Every time the phone vibrated, it created the illusion that the mug was moving on it's own. Of course, that was it. Thanks, brain. Sean breathed again, feeling just a little bit foolish.
Sean reached forward, intending to rectify this silly mishap. Just as his fingers were about to make contact, the mug suddenly shot across the table, like a bullet escaping the barrel of a gun, through the air, and then shattered to pieces against the far wall.
Sean jumped up so quickly his chair spun around on its swivel and slid across the floor. He pressed his back up against the wall, as if to try and push himself as far away as he could from the broken shards of ceramic that now lay silent and lifeless in the corner. Eyes wide and chest tight, his mind was a swirling whirlwind of thoughts and fear that he was earnestly trying to contain. He struggled to comprehend what he'd just witnessed. But Sean was finding it rather difficult to explain away the mystery of why his favorite mug decided to, of its own accord, fly across his room and commit kamikaze all over the wall.
Every nerve in his body was awake and screaming at him. The room didn't feel safe to him, and all Sean wanted to do right now was get the hell out. He took a step towards the door, but immediately stopped as a strange sensation enveloped his left forearm. It was a cold, tingling feeling that crept along from his elbow all the way down to the very tips of his fingers. It was a soft, gentle sort of tingling. As if he'd curiously dipped his arm deep into a spider's web. Sean lifted his arm, turned it around from one side to the other, and watched as the hairs on his arm each stood straight on end.
"Ah! Fuck!" Sean screamed. Feelings of unease gave way to absolute terror when the undeniable realization struck him, that he wasn't alone. Something had grabbed him. Something he couldn't see. He could actually feel five individual fingers wrapped tightly around his forearm, close to his wrist. Sean immediately attempted to pull away, but to his horror, he was met with resistance. Swallowing hard, he braced his feet against the floor and tugged again, harder this time. Nothing. Not even so much as an inch was gained. All he could do was stare at his arm that hung suspended in midair. He winced as each tug only seemed to entice his unseen assailant to form a death-like grip so tight he began to feel sharp sparks of pain shooting through his trapped limb.
Next, he was stumbling backward and crashing hard into the set of shelves where he kept his collection of memorabilia, several of which were sent clattering to the floor in the impact. Sean didn't waste a moment to wonder at how he'd inexplicably broken loose. He dashed to the door and grabbed the handle, only to be faced with a new problem. The handle was stuck, very tightly.
The air in the room was steadily becoming heavy and cloying. There was a tangible oppressiveness to it. Sean pushed down on the handle with all of his strength, but still it refused to give. Several more curse words streamed from his mouth as panic settled in and latched itself to his racing heart. Sean knew that whatever it was that had just attacked him was likely still in the room with him and he was now trapped in here with it. He felt a heat come up over his back and shoulders.
Sean put one foot up against the door frame, held onto the door handle with both hands and pulled hard while trying to turn it at the same time. The walls came alive all around him in an uproar of loud pounding. Sean threw his shoulder against the door. The windows shuddered and banged against their frames, adding to the cacophony. Sean kicked the door several times, knowing it was pointless, but at the same time vaguely hoping that he could break the latch open. The heat was getting worse. It felt like the entire room was on fire, though there were no flames. He couldn't even bear to try the handle again. It burned in his hands.
Sean fell against the door, rubbing his brow against the smooth wood. The room was so damned humid. His skin was itching in the heat. There was so much noise. His head was pounding. Why is it so hot? Can't get out. Everything is spinning. Can't breath. Everything is agony.
"WHY IS IT SO FUCKING HOT IN HERE!?" Sean let out a sudden and explosive scream. Lungs heaving, he spun around and grabbed onto his chair by the armrests and lifted it up over his shoulder. He stared at that damned fucking door, the edges of his vision turning red, at the barrier to his freedom. He had to- wanted to destroy it. He wanted nothing more than to throw the chair into the door until nothing was left of it but a pile of splinters.
From the door arose a series of clicking sounds, then the latch popped and the door opened a small gap. Feeling equally bewildered as he was relieved, Sean swung open the door and charged out of the room. He didn't stop until he reached the opposite end of the hallway. He lurched forward and had to place his hands on his knees to stop himself from falling over. It took a moment for Sean to realize that he was hyperventilating. Now free, he took a moment to take a few deep breaths and try to calm his frayed and abused nerves.
So many questions were buzzing like insects in his head. What had happened just now? Objects thrown by invisible forces, doors closing and locking themselves, unexplained noises? It all sounded like superstitious nonsense. Like one of the stories you hear on those paranormal reality shows that try so hard to make you think it really happened, but seems too much like something out of Hollywood to actually be taken seriously.
But this was real. Wasn't it? Sean shook his head and ran a hand through his green hair, still struggling to digest it all. He'd felt a hand close itself around his arm, this he couldn't deny. Something strong had caught him and refused to let him go. And then in the ensuing chaos that erupted when he tried to leave, what may have scared him the most, was himself. There was a moment, just for a split second, where he didn't recognize himself. Sean shuddered. That rage, it didn't belong to him. He knew fear had the power to turn even the most rational person into a madman. But still...
Sean slowly turned around and stared down the long hallway and into the gaping maw that led into his recording room. His muscles twitched. He half-expected to see a dark figure appear in the doorway and come for him. But the only thing staring back at him was his computer monitor idly looping a screensaver.
Everything was quiet now. Maybe...
A violent force suddenly struck Sean in the side and threw him sideways. His head slammed into the wall with a sickening crack. The shock rippled through to the back of his skull and back again, causing his senses to briefly careen severely out of focus. Everything around him became a mass of vague shapes and blotches of color. A shrill ringing pierced through his ears.
Sean let out a weak moan. His whole body ached horribly. The one side of his head was throbbing and his cheek felt damp and sticky. The blur of shapes were tilted on their sides and he knew he was on the floor. He tried to turn his head slightly and heard a soft crunch. In his immediate vision, a dozen dazzling lights danced like glittering diamonds. His head swam turbulently and he had to shut his eyes to stop from being sick.
'I need help. I have to get up.'
Sean felt an overwhelming need to sleep. He tried to fight it, tried to force himself up. He knew the danger of falling asleep with a severe head injury. But it was no use. His body would no longer obey him. The world was fading. He was sinking down into a deep, dark murk. His eyelids flickered once and then shut.
Sean drifted away into unconsciousness, not sure if he would ever wake again.
"Some of the worst monsters imaginable were born of the cruelty of men. It plucks. It rips. It tears. Until little more than a shattered husk remains, quivering and howling in a dark corner."
It was cold.
That was the first thing Sean noticed, the cold breeze that sent shivers through his entire body. Then came the scent of damp soil and grass. He heard the ebb and flow of water gently caressing the shore. Somewhere nearby, a songbird was chirping cheerfully in the trees. Sean slowly opened his eyes. Everything was blurry at first, but it quickly became clear that he wasn't at home anymore.
Before him, he beheld a quiet lake surrounded by a dense forest thick with trees and vegetation. A heavy fog hung over the lake like a blanket. Overhead, the sun was trying to peek through an overcast sky, bathing the area in a soft and silvery light. It was so serene and lovely, a beautiful little hideaway. It was the kind of place he would gladly visit again and again.
If only he knew how he'd gotten here when only a few seconds ago, he was passing out on his floor with a gushing wound on his temple. Sean carefully tested his limbs. His muscles didn't give much of a response and felt mildly tight and sore. He turned his head a bit and saw that his body was locked up in the fetal position, with his legs pulled up against his chest and his arms wrapped around his knees in a tight bear hug.
Sean slowly stretched himself out and pushed himself up to his feet. He felt a bit dizzy, so he braced an arm against a nearby tree. With his free hand he gingerly pressed his fingers against the side of his face. He sucked in a sharp breath of air through his teeth in trepidation of what he would find. A bloody gash, perhaps even a loose shard of skull. But to his surprise, the wound was gone. That's not possible. His head had impacted with the wall with such tremendous force, it was a miracle he was even standing right now.
'I should be dead.'
With that chilling thought, Sean slowly stepped up to the lake's shore and surveyed his surroundings. Maybe he was dead. He wasn't sure how else to explain how he suddenly found himself in this strange, albeit picturesque, place. The steady beat in his chest, however, argued otherwise. Maybe he was in a coma. He could be laying in a hospital bed right now, head wrapped in bandages and hooked up to a dozen machines. He'd heard stories of people having some rather fantastical dreams while in comas.
Then again, there was also the possibility that no one had found him yet. He could still be sprawled out on the floor in his home, unconscious and bleeding out. His life slowly passing away as each precious second ticked by. Perhaps this place was some sort of purgatory. A pocket between existential planes where he would have to wait until, well... whatever comes next.
Sean shuddered. He really hoped it wasn't the latter.
Sean wrapped his arms around himself for warmth against the cool air, then turned and began to walk along the shore. He wasn't sure what else to do at the moment. He simply felt compelled to keep moving forward. The fog that rolled in from the lake had somehow grown exponentially in the short time since he woke up here. Sean stopped and turned around in place. He was surrounded on all sides by a wall of thick white mist. He could barely see more than a few yards ahead of him in any direction.
He briefly considered calling out for help, but quickly thought better of it. Somewhere deep down he knew that drawing attention to himself may not be the wisest of choices.
Sean continued to slowly and carefully follow the lake's shoreline. It was the only real landmark he had. Beyond that was the forest. Venturing into that sea of trees would be a foolish endeavor, for he was sure to become lost. But Sean's fear was growing with each step that he took. He kept hoping he would find some sign of other people. A boat, a campsite, a trail leading out to a road. Something. Something that would tell him that he wasn't alone. Something that would tell him that he was still here.
Ahead of him, a soft buzzing could be heard from inside the mist. In the trees he heard several birds fluttering and flying from one branch to another. Several nagging thoughts began to itch at the back of his mind. They urged him to turn back. But Sean pressed onward. His legs were moving on auto-pilot now. He had to keep going. He needed to see what what was waiting for him just beyond that white curtain.
Eventually the mist receded just barely enough to reveal a small clearing nestled between the lake and the rest of the forest.
That's where he found the body.
It was a grotesque sight that made his insides squirm and twist into knots. There on the far edge of the clearing the body of what appeared to be a man hung from a tree, its wrists tied to two different branches. What's more, the head was missing. And on its chest was an angry red wound. All black around the edges and darkened and exposed muscle in the middle. It looked like a burn. This burn ran from the center of its chest, all the way up to the edge of what remained of its neck.
A crow stood perched on the shoulder, clacking its beak as it snatched up a few flies darting back and forth from the corpse. The black bird regarded Sean with a sideways glance before dipping its beak into the open neck for a small morsel of rotting flesh. Sean gagged. A putrid and pungent stench drifted outward, carried by a breeze, and hit him suddenly like a heavy wave. His stomach churned, his eyes watered, and everything started to spin. The world tipped vertically. There he saw what he couldn't believe he'd missed before.
The severed head of this mutilated man rested on a stump close to the feet. Its mouth agape in a perpetual scream. The crows appear to have already made quick work of this appetizer. The face was no longer recognizable. The skin and muscle have been stripped away, leaving mostly bone and a few scraps of hair. And the teeth were a bit strange. Most of them were quite ordinary, except for the four canine teeth. They were slightly elongated and sharp. Like fangs.
Sean stood there mesmerized, unable to look away from the horror. Even though he knew he should run. He wanted to run. But he couldn't. Sean could feel something building inside him. Something strange and terrible. There was a dull heat in his center which was rapidly spreading through his entire body like liquid fire. His heart beat faster and faster. It hurt to breath. He wanted to scream, but could only gasp and choke. The fire. The sheer terror. It was coming. Death. Death was coming and he was helpless to deny it.
"No. NO! Leave me alone!" Out of nowhere, Sean was assaulted by a loud bellowing voice. It bounded about like a thrumming echo, as if coming from every direction and right in his ears, all at the same time. "Somebody help me!" Sean winced and clapped his hands over his ears. "I never harmed anyone! Why!?" But the voice persisted. It was scratching at the inside of his skull. Begging and pleading for mercy. "This isn't fair!"
There was a brief moment of silence. Then an utterly visceral, tortured wailing echoed between his ears. The scream came again, and again and again. Over and over. Each scream was punctuated by a guttural moan. As if this person were being struck repeatedly. There was so much pain. Sean couldn't bear it. It just went on and on. Even worse still, a second scream rose up to join the first, mingling together with the other in a harrowing chorus.
This went on for what felt like an eternity until Sean finally discovered that the second voice was actually his own. As soon as he did, everything went silent. Sean slowly opened his eyes... 'When did I close them?' ...and desperately tried to gather himself together. He'd somehow ended up on the ground, his chest heaving and his body rocked by fearsome tremors. He couldn't remember how he'd gotten there.
Sean stared into that moldering face. The eye sockets nothing but two pools of writhing, milky white maggots. Sean swooned again. He felt the bile rapidly rushing up in his throat and he reflexly brought his hand up to cover his mouth.
His hand hit his mouth with a wet slap. A strong metallic smell filled his nose. Sean slowly lowered his hand and immediately screamed. Both of his hands were completely drenched in blood. Viscous and speckled with dark clots, the blood spread from the tips of his fingernails all the way down to his elbows and slowly dripped down to the ground.
"Fucking Jesus!"
Sean turned around and dashed toward the lake. He threw his arms into the water and frantically wiped away all of the blood. The water turned bright red all around him. He slumped forward and rested on his knees, keeping his arms submerged. He took in a few slow, deep breaths. Thankfully, his vision stopped swaying so precariously, but he couldn't stop shaking. He was scared. For a moment, Sean wondered if this was Hell. In that moment, he felt like he was being punished. Punished for something he didn't do. This was so fucking insane. It couldn't be real. He just wanted to go home.
"What in the hell is happening to me?", Sean muttered to himself morosely.
Sean pulled his arms out of the tinted water and held them up in front of his eyes. He gave them both a thorough inspection, but couldn't find a single cut or scratch anywhere. But then, where had all that blood come from? Sean didn't know. All he cared about right now was getting as far away from here as possible. He cupped some clean water in his hands and splashed it in his face. His stomach gave a mild complaint as he began to straighten up, but he ignored it. He just had to find a way out.
Sean paused when he noticed something catch a brief flicker of light in the dirt just to his right. Curiously, he stooped down to pick it up. In his hand he held a perfectly round, flat piece of glass with a large crack going through it. It looked like a lens.
From behind, a hoarse exhale broke the relative silence. Sean spun around so quickly he fell down on his backside. A figure had appeared in the clearing mere feet from where he now sat. How did it get so close without him noticing? It was sitting on a large stone, leaning forward with its arms resting on its knees. While this figure had all the hallmark features of a man, Sean was hesitant to call it as such. All of the skin on its throat, trailing up into its lower jaw and halfway down its chest, was just gone. Leaving only naked muscle and sinew, bleeding and glistening in the pale light. It did wear clothes, dirty and tattered though they were. And it stared at Sean through two glassy black marbles from underneath a curtain of stringy copper-colored hair.
It was watching him... Those two cold, obsidian orbs bore straight into his own wide blue eyes. The only sound to be heard was the sound of its labored, raspy breathing. Sean could actually see the muscles in its neck contracting and relaxing with each breath, and his fingers twitched anxiously. The crows have gone quiet. And there were more of them now. Countless numbers of large, back birds gathered in the trees surrounding the small clearing. They seemed eager, as if they were waiting to see what would happen next.
The ghoulish man rose up to its feet. Sean crawled backward several feet in panic. There was a sense of predatory malice in its dark gaze now. And it was at this point when Sean realized what it must have been like for a mouse to lock eyes with a cat. Caught in the shadow of this harbinger of death, Sean felt very small indeed.
"Oh, god." Sean gasped softly, his mouth gone dry. It began to step towards him now. Sean didn't think twice. He leapt up and ran as fast as he could away from it, straight into the woods.
Sean could barely see where he was going. The thick mist was as oppressive as ever. Trees bloomed into view as he ran and he had to keep his hands raised to stop himself from crashing into them more than once. The terrain was just as treacherous. Several times he would slip on loose rocks or stumble when a root caught his foot. He kept going, kept running. He didn't dare slow down. That thing was surely right behind him.
Sean knew he couldn't keep this pace up for too long. But what options did he have? Turning and fighting was suicide for sure. He whipped his head around in all directions. Perhaps he could find something that he could hide behind and pray that it lost track of him. It was definitely a bit of a crap shoot. He had no way of knowing how good its senses were. He couldn't hear it anymore. The forest was quiet aside from the sound of his own feet pounding against the ground. If he found something quickly enough, he might have a chance.
There! Ahead and to the right of his path, there was a large rotted-out log surrounded by dense underbrush and laying next to a large tree. This might work. There was a space under the log just big enough for him to crawl into and enough cover to hide him from sight.
Sean turned and began to head toward the log, when something suddenly caught him in the back. It felt like being hit with a massive sledgehammer. The force of it sent him flying and he skidded several feet across the ground. He spat out a mouthful of dirt and started to push himself back up. Then Sean screamed louder than he had ever screamed in his life. What must have been ten knives had stabbed him, digging deeply into the back of his shoulder blades. The pain was indescribable. All he could do was gasp and cry out as he felt the flesh being tugged upward, and watch as the ground pulled away from him and then rush sideways in a blur.
Sean tumbled onto the ground like a rag doll with a hard thud. All of the air was knocked out of him and he rolled onto his side in a fit of violent coughing. He felt dizzy. So dizzy, he barely noticed the hands grasping at him, pushing him down onto his back. A heavy weight settled on top of him. One hand came up and grabbed him round the face from under his jaw. He could feel its elongated, pointed nails poking his cheeks. It forcibly turned his head to the left, then to the right.
Through bleary eyes, Sean saw the scorched horror looming over him. It was even worse now that it was so close. It stared down at him intensely with those black eyes, it's breath rattling harshly through mangled windpipes. It turned his head sideways again, curiously tilting its own head in rhythm as it did. He got the feeling that he was being deeply inspected. Sean was petrified. It was going to kill him. He was positive of this. He didn't want to die.
His sense of self-preservation awoke and somehow, he managed to scrounge up enough courage to tighten up his fists and started swinging at the stranger as hard as he possibly could.
It snatched his right fist mid-swing, faster than he could follow. His left connected with its chin. The stranger's head jerked to the side from the blow, but it was otherwise unfazed. It didn't even flinch. Then with frightening speed, it backhanded him hard across his face. Everything went fuzzy again and his ears rang shrilly.
Somewhere in his haze, Sean felt a rough palm come to rest against the side of his face. Followed by a sharp pain when one its nails sliced him in the forehead. Sean was instantly focused again. He looked up and watched while the stranger lazily, almost absent-mindedly, traced random patterns across his forehead with its forefinger. His blood was the ink, as evident by the ease at which the tip of the nail glided across the skin.
"Who-" Sean swallowed hard, "who are you? What do you want?"
Sean didn't know what possessed him to do it. This stranger looked very much like a human man, underneath all the open wounds, yet somehow Sean never even considered trying to actually talk to it until just now. Judging by the way it narrowed its black eyes and cocked its head to the side slightly, the stranger hadn't expected it either. His heart was pounding, full with dread. He was sure he'd just made a very costly mistake.
Above him, the stranger began to gnash its sharp teeth together. It was making such horrible sounds. A chilling mixture of choking and wheezing that was making his stomach turn a bit queasy again. Sean's eyes widened when he realized, it was trying to speak. It was trying to speak to him, but it couldn't. It was clearly struggling in vain to get words out from a ruined voice box.
Sean took a deep breath and prepared himself.
"W-what are you trying to s-say? I don't underst- Ah!" Before Sean could finish, the stranger took a fistful of green hair and smacked the back of his head against the ground. The frustration behind this reaction was tangible.
"Why are you doing this to me!?"
Sean didn't even think. In that brief instant, he forgot the dire situation he was in and the words simply came tumbling out of his mouth without restraint. He clenched his eyes shut and braced himself for another reprisal, or possibly worse. But after a few tense seconds, Sean noticed that nothing was happening. He opened his eyes again to see that his tormentor has gone completely stock still.
The stranger was locked in the thousand-yard stare.
Its head twitched strangely from side to side, while also letting out a low and strained moan. It seemed lost. Lost in a dark miasma that was his alone. It slowly brought its hands up and firmly grasped both sides of its head. It flinched at something that wasn't there. As if to try and protect itself from some vile, treacherous brute only it could see. It continued to moan and shudder. It was scared. Scared and trapped in some far away hellscape it couldn't seem to escape.
Sean could see that its mind had gone away. Staring blankly into the forest, and swaying back and forth. More importantly, it wasn't paying attention to him anymore. His hands trembled as he very carefully felt around the ground nearby. His eyes darted between his surroundings and the glassy-eyed stranger above him. There had to be something here. Something that he could use to get away. Sean already knew how strong it was. But it was also straining to breath properly. Maybe if he found something heavy enough, he could hit it hard enough to at least stun it.
His fingers brushed up against an object with a rough surface. Sean turned his head and spotted a broken piece of a fallen tree branch laying beside him. It wasn't good enough to do any real damage, but if he drove the thick end of it into the stranger's eye, the resulting pain and confusion might give him just enough time to slip away.
There was a flash of movement. Then shock. Sean's eyes bulged out from their sockets. His mouth filled with the strong, metallic taste of his own blood. He spluttered and gurgled. He couldn't get any air in. Above him, he saw those dagger-like nails dripping with crimson. He could feel the chill night air biting into his exposed throat, juxtaposed with the warmth of his life spilling out from ripped veins.
With those blank, inhuman eyes and a lower jaw that was nearly completely eroded, it was difficult to discern what the stranger's motivations were or what violent turn snapped in that tangled labyrinthine mind. The tightened muscles in its face and the knotted brow, however, gave the impression of unquestionable fury.
Sean cascaded into a state of unbridled terror. His mind retreated into that special place where his thoughts began to backpedal into denial.
'This isn't happening! This isn't real!'
Sean repeated it over and over like a mantra. This place. What was this place? Sean still didn't understand where he was or how he'd gotten here. It couldn't be real. It just couldn't. Yet here he was. Trapped in here with a living nightmare, flat on the ground and utterly helpless.
His trachea had been split open. He could feel the blood emptying into his windpipe, and spilling out of the corners of his mouth each time he choked. Breathing was impossible. His chest burned and flared with agony as each futile attempt to suck in a breath of air caused his lungs to seize up on themselves. Then something cold began to grow deep in the center of himself, and it was spreading out to each of his limbs. Trying to consume him.
Sean could hear his own heartbeat in his head. It sounded distant, and it was getting slower.
'So, is this it? Is this me, dying?'
Grey walls appeared at the edges of his vision. He tried to lift up his hands, but he could barely feel them anymore. He barely felt it when the stranger took hold of both his wrists and pushed them back onto the ground again. It frightened him how easily he was able to do it. He felt so numb. So tired. He needed to sleep. The walls were closing in. Somewhere in the grey gloom, he could still hear the stranger's rasping, only it seemed so far away now. It was watching him drown in his own blood.
The last thing Sean saw were two fingers hovering closely above his eyes. One on the left, the other on the right.
And then...
All was darkness.
He was floating.
Surrounded on all sides by a deep, oily black void.
It was endless. At least, he assumed it was endless.
He couldn't see anymore.
His eyes were gone.
He couldn't feel his body anymore.
Couldn't hear, smell or taste.
He simply existed here in this space.
Alone.
Alone in oblivion.
"Listen to me..."
Something warm entered his space.
"Nightmares don't last forever. No matter how upsetting it may be, or how helpless you may feel, it will all fade away soon enough. When you wake up, everything will be as it should be. I promise."
Sean burst up to the surface of consciousness with the force of a thunderbolt. He swallowed huge gulps of air into his starving lungs, coughing just a little bit. The feeling of relief was both glorious and overwhelming at the same time. He stared straight up, blinking through bleary vision at the clean white surface of the ceiling. 'What?' Sean was so startled all of a sudden, he had to grip the armrests to keep himself from falling out of his chair.
Sean slowly lowered his head and took in the familiar sight of his recording room.
He was home.
The room was utterly still, save for his still racing heart beating against his ribs like a crazed beast trying to escape from its too small cage. It was dark now. The only light came from the soft glow of the digital clock, which currently read 3:00 AM. But that would mean that he'd been out for hours. That's not possible. He couldn't even remember ever falling asleep. In fact, he's never just conked out in the middle of his work before. The last thing he remembered...
Instantly, his hands flew up to his throat. He gasped and coughed, his body briefly reliving those last few moments. However, his probing fingers found no sign of injury. He was whole again.
With renewed anxiety, Sean panned his sight back and forth to each corner of the room. He wasn't sure what he expected to see. He vaguely remembered falling against his shelf. But when he looked over, he saw that everything was still in its place and completely undisturbed. He then turned to his computer and brought it back from standby mode. There on the screen was the video footage he'd been reviewing, paused right where he'd left it.
Sean looked around at the quiet room again. Everything was fine. Everything was perfectly normal.
No! This is wrong! This didn't make any sense.
Sean jumped out of his chair, swung open the door and walked out into the hallway. He just had to make sure. He stared down the expanse of the hallway, all the way to the end. There was nothing there. Just the walls, and a few framed posters hanging on them. His memory at this moment was very hazy. This is where something had come up from behind and flung him with enough force to split his skull open. It was all a terrible blur after that. The next thing he knew, he was in a nightmare.
He entered the bathroom and stepped up to the mirror, placing both hands on the edge of the sink. Sean tilted his chin up and took a good look at himself. There wasn't a single mark on him. Not even the slightest cut or bruise. He leaned forward and stared straight into his own eyes. Straight at himself. His face was an ashen white. His pupils just two tiny specks. He looked sick. And he couldn't stop trembling.
Slowly, he backed up against the wall and slid down to the floor. The weight of all the terrors he'd faced now bearing down heavily on him. Had all of it really just been a dream? He's never had a dream that was so lucid before. So real. He could still feel those dark eyes on him as he slipped down into some strange and unknown void. Sean wondered if that was really what it felt like to die. Or if it was just his imagination. Something his mind supplied to him based on what seemed to be happening to him in that moment.
Surely, that must be the answer. He was alive, which was the only thing that seemed clear to him right now. The proof was right there in front of him. In the comforting sight of his cabinet doors, in the lines of grout in between the tiles, and the feeling of the cold floor underneath him. He was here. He was home.
That place. That forest haunted by the specter of the man with the burnt neck. Where agony and blood permeated every rock and tree and even the air. A twisted fantasy. This was reality. Where nothing was broken and the most frightening thing he had to face in his day to day routine was the possibility of finding a little yellow icon next to one of his videos. Sean took a series of slow, deep breaths as he determinedly put the former out of his mind. Eventually his heart rate slowed down to some semblance of normality.
It was just a dream.
Sean began to find peace in this acceptance. The memories of that nightmare faded little by little with each exhale. As all dreams inevitably do, good or bad. People forget, for the most part. And life moves on.
It was just a very bad dream.