AN: This story was not revealed to me in a dream. Instead, I saw it in a drug-induced stupour during my celebration of 4/20.
The Different
'The greatest fear of mankind is the fear of the Different.'
- Arthus Loevingard
I had once taken a turn onto a road which had a sign that read, 'do not enter'.
My escapades have led me south of Haverhill, an area unfamiliar to me and unmarked. Hastened by time constraints, I searched for a route which would allow me to reach my desired destination faster, and so made the decision to choose a path which, at least in my mind, was a shortcut obscured by the local residents to avoid unwanted traffic.
At first, nothing out of the ordinary New England landscape stood out to me about my selected road. It was only after a mile or so, surprised by not seeing any kind of settlement, that I started to notice differences which indicated to me that perhaps the supposed shortcut was indeed not fit for human transportation.
The glistening asphalt was firm, undamaged, yet the markings on it began to shift from those of a regular highway pattern to a chaos of broken lines and jumbled strokes of paint, until almost none of the black tarmac surface was visible, obscured by the ugly, disordered collage. Cursed be my stubbornness for continuing on this sinister way, determined to still find a reasonable passage, somehow.
At the end of the broken path there stood a city, vast and busy like many in the land, its hive-like bustle at first absconding before my eyes its otherness. I had not remembered seeing this city on any maps, and thus I was forced to exit my vehicle in search for someone who could provide me with directions.
Inhaling the city's air, the first thing I noticed was that there was a kind of heaviness I felt in my lungs. It was as if the chemical contents of the air, the natural nitrogen-to-oxygen ratio my body was used to, was slightly off. I had to rub my eyes as well, as it seemed that the light in the city was not normal, either. It reminded me of wearing lenses with a delicate tint, of a hue so slight the brain fails to immediately notice it or distinguish its uniqueness.
Then, I noticed the people. They were all normal at first glance, but as I moved about in their midst, I began to see minute dissimilarities to the world I was used to. The inhabitants of the city spoke, yet the language they used was not like anything I have ever heard, or even similar to any form of human speech which was familiar to me. The signs and posters on their walls were full of words, but normal letters of the alphabet had been replaced by a system of writing which used symbols with triangular edges that looked to me like they had been carved in wood with the tip of a knife.
The men wore suits and the women dresses, but the colour patterns were weirdly unfamiliar, with a strange predilection for shades of green and purple, sometimes violently vibrant. I focused my glare on a man standing by what looked like a grocery store which did not sell any groceries. The ribbon round his grey porkpie hat was teal, the collar of his shirt had buttons in unusual and unexplainable places, and the glow on the tip of the cigarette which he was smoking was vaguely bluish, the smoke smelling of marjoram and horses.
He lifted his eyes to meet my gaze, noticing me, and I cowered away. I felt the sweat pearl on my back, the unfamiliar air weighing heavy on my chest. The man's irises were pale, opalescent, nearly hollow, dead-blue like a glass of milk left out in the open for too long.
He looked human, yet a human he was not.
In veritable panic, stumbling among throngs of alien creatures so much like me and yet so other, I rushed back to where I came from, as if feeling the death-stare of the city already upon me. On the way, I began to notice more differences, most of them so slight and so devilishly unutterable that I nearly felt my sanity slipping out of my grasp. I halted in front of a vendor's stall, and looking upon the display of items there, I felt that they were familiar, as if originating in the same world I was from, yet still I found myself unable to name a single one of them, or conjure up any idea of what they could be used for. The owner of the stall spoke to me in words which I cannot render in human phonology as I recall them now, thus hastening me to flee.
In the distance, I recognized my vehicle, which stood out among the others with how familiar it was. The sight should have been calming to me, yet it was not so due to the man who stood by it. It was as if he was waiting for me, blocking my entrance to the car.
I tried to bypass the stranger, yet he stood in my way.
-You – he said in my own language, startling me.
My eyes open wide, I gazed at him, noticing that although he was wearing similar attire to the other creatures in the city, his eyes did not have the same otherworldly qualities. It was as if he were a human hiding in this eldritch world, pretending to be one of its own.
-You! – he repeated, removing his teal-brimmed hat. – What are you doing here?!
My lips shook, wordless, as I attempted to process his words.
-How do you know me? – I inquired, finally.
What the man said then, although it explained a lot in the midst of my uncertainty, not only did not remove the sense of almost instinctive fright in my heart, but magnified it a hundred fold.
-You do not belong here. They will notice you, sniff you out without a disguise. This world, its masters are not like those of our own. They will find that you are trespassing here, and then, they will smite you.
I stood speechless once more, and the man noticed my fear.
-I knew you would come here. But now, you must leave. I have been sent to warn you. Your time is short.
Finishing, he took a step as if wishing to go past me. I urged him to wait.
-How did you know I would come here? – I asked.
The man halted, as if meditating his answer.
-It was revealed to me – he uttered curtly, and went ahead. A moment later he was gone, swept away by the non-human crowd.
I listened to the man's advice. Returning to my vehicle, I swiftly departed the city the same way I came, and did not slow down until the sky regained its normal colour.
To this day, I look people I meet in the streets closely in the eyes. I reckon that if, one day, I met any man with a teal ribbon adorning his hat, I would fall into a state of true, paralyzing panic which would cause my mind to become permanently lost.