PROLOUGE
July 11, 1999
Tap, Tap, Tap.
What was that?
I look over at my nightstand to find three digital numbers reading 1:34 a.m.
Am I hearing things? Did something just tap on the window? I’m on the second floor, how is that even possible?
The thought of someone or something just casually floating outside my second-story bedroom window makes me chuckle to myself. I shake my head, dismissing the absurd idea.
When my eyes come back into focus, my bedroom seems ordinarily normal, my mind must be playing tricks.
Maybe I’m dreaming? You know when your mind is in a dream but your body is awake? Like when you can see, hear, and feel things from your imagination in the real world, but it’s actually just …a half dream? I’ve had a few of those, half dreams.
Like that time where I walked out of my bedroom and had a full conversation about honey bees with the living room couch. Or that time I was convinced my sister’s toy chest was a toilet—that ended well.
I’ve actually had lots of half dreams now that I think about it.
Sometimes it’s fun to try and take advantage of the control I have of my imagination. Especially when I’m dreaming about Johnny Depp or Leonardo Dicaprio.
Everyone does that, right? This is normal?
I’m currently staying with my great aunt, I visit every summer. I’m not used to all the crazy noises this old house makes during the night. She lives in a massive mansion, smack in the middle of nowhere.
At times it almost feels post-apocalyptic out here, as if the entire world has ended and I’m the last one to know. Like Aunt Tessie and I are the only humans left on the planet, patiently awaiting the zombies to eat our brains.
This place is especially cryptic at night, when the darkness is all consuming. There’s no house lights on the horizon, no hum of traffic in the distance, just jet-black darkness and deafening silence at all times.
My window might as well be a black mirror, reflecting literal nothingness back at me. I stare out, making certain that there isn’t something floating outside. My vision seems to betray me as I can barely even make out the few trees that line the house. Everything is engulfed in an endless, black void.
I turn away and climb back into bed, burrowing myself under the covers. Out of nowhere I hear slow, light footsteps creeping outside my door.
Shit. It’s the Zombies!
"Pull yourself together" my inner self screams. I force myself back to reality, “Aunt Tessie?”
The footsteps pause for a moment and I see a shadow shift from under my door. Then, the steps continue lightly, getting quieter as they travel down the hall.
Okay, logically speaking here, if that was a zombie, it would have broken down the door and made me its dinner. It had to be Aunt Tessie. But then again, if it was her, she probably would have responded, right?
Maybe she’s just intensely sleepy and didn’t hear me. Her hearing isn’t that great to begin with, so that would make sense. She’s more than likely just going downstairs to get a glass of water or something. Yeah, that’s it.
I throw myself back down onto my bed and press my eyes shut. I bury my face under the covers, hiding behind my hands like a frightened, little kid.
"It was Aunt Tessie," I assure myself. I mean, who else would it be?
….a zombie.
The battle of my logical vs. my illogical thoughts is rudely interrupted when I hear the three taps again. My eyes fly open.
My heart is racing and my lungs feel like they’re full of rocks. There's absolutely no chance I’m falling back asleep. But I'm too scared to get up.
"So, you're just going to lay here?" I ask myself.
Ashlyn what if there is a zombie out there? You're just going to let it get Aunt Tessie?
I force myself up. Rolling my eyes at my inner self.
The floor is cold under my bare feet as I walk to my bedroom door. I look around to see if there’s some type of blunt object I can use as a weapon.
I spot a pink umbrella leaning against the wall, next to my closet. Lamest weapon ever but it’s better than nothing, I guess. Probably won’t do me any good, but it makes me feel better.
I hesitate just before turning the door handle when an intense, painful knot forms in my stomach. I can't move, I hunch over, wrapping my arm around my middle. I try to dismiss the urge to puke, but it feels like someone punched me straight in the gut.
The feeling finally passes, after a few minutes. That was strange.
As slowly and quietly as I can, I turn the doorknob. I push the door open slightly and it creeks on its hinges. Damn, this old house.
I peek my head out the door like a scaredy cat and see Aunt Tessie at the end of the hallway. She is turning the corner toward the stairs, taking small, slow steps, stumbling over her own feet and mumbling to herself. She’s in a teal, knee-length nightgown and blush-colored, fuzzy slippers. I’m pretty sure I got those for her for Christmas last year.
Is she sleepwalking? Wait a second, is sleepwalking a genetic thing? That would actually make a whole lot of sense.
Once I hear her steps descending the stairs, I open my bedroom door wider, trying not to make a sound.
I step into the hallway, and the floorboards crack. I freeze hoping she didn't hear me. Her footsteps are still padding slowly down the stairs, and I can hear her babbling nonsense. Phew.
Making my way down the hall, I’m reminded that you’re not supposed to wake a sleepwalker. I have no idea why everyone in the world knows that warning. I mean, how many people actually deal with sleepwalkers? Yet literally every living person would be able to tell you that you’re not supposed to wake them.
I’ve never dealt with a sleepwalker before; I’ve always been the one sleepwalking. It’s weird to be on the other end of it, but regardless, my plan is to get her back in bed and keep her sound asleep.
I tiptoe toward the stairs.
Glancing over the banister, I see Aunt Tessie standing in the dead center of the foyer, facing the front door with her back to the stairs. She mumbles something to herself and gestures with her hands. What is she doing?
She turns over her shoulder and begins walking down the hallway toward her office.
It’s nearly 2:00 in the morning, why is she going to her office? She’s got some late-night letters she needs to finish up or something?
Aunt Tessie is as old fashioned as they come. She doesn’t use a computer, even though one sits on her desk. She still hand writes everything. All our birthday cards are handmade and delivered via mail. There’s no way she actually needs to do something in her office at this hour.
Once she is out of sight, I continue down the stairs and stalk after her. At the bottom, I timidly stick my head around the corner yet again proving I am about as brave as the cowardly lion.
At the far end of the hallway, I can see a small flicker of light that seems to be floating in midair. Just to the right of the floating light, I barely make out a window and the silhouette of Aunt Tessie standing in front of it.
Approaching the far end of the hallway, I can finally see the source of the orange, flickering glow. A silver candelabra on the wall with three pillar candles; only one is lit, the one on the right.
There, standing in front of the window beside it, I find Aunt Tessie. Still mumbling unintelligible things to herself and just staring blankly out the window. The feeling in my stomach returns and I curl into myself.
I’ve been stalking after her for at least fifteen minutes, there's something wrong with my stomach, and I’d certainly like to go back to bed. It’s dark and cold in this house, and I can’t shake this eerie feeling. Why can't I just be a normal teenager and hide in my room?
I glance over at Aunt Tessie. I know I’m not supposed to startle her, and I want to try and keep her asleep, so as gently as I can, I whisper, “Aunt Tessie? Let’s get you back to bed.”
She doesn’t move.
I get closer to her face, trying to see which direction she’s staring so intensely at through the window. I turn to match her gaze and all I can see is darkness.
She takes a slow, deep breath and her hand shakily comes up from her side, pointing out the window. Her hand is trembling. Her pointer finger taps the glass. A little click of her nail. She holds it there and mumbles, “He’s there!”
Umm, I'm sorry, what?!
I look out the window, back to Aunt Tessie, and then back outside. He’s there? Who’s there? Nope. This is so fucking creepy, I literally want to crawl into my own skin and disappear.
At this point, I don’t immensely care about the sleepwalking rule; I’m spooked. Her ass is waking up and we’re going back to bed; I don’t care if she attacks me.
“Aunt Tessie, I don’t see anything out there, and you’re scaring me, let’s get back to bed.” I grab her hand, attempting to pull her, but she won’t move; she’s frozen in place.
“That man,” she says. “He’s there.”
Nope. Nope. Nope.
“Aunt Tessie, there’s nothing out there, let’s go!” I yank her arm so hard, her whole-body jolts forward and she falls straight onto the floor.
New achievement unlocked: throwing a frail, old lady to the ground. Jesus, Ashlyn.
“Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God! I’m sorry, Aunt Tessie! Are you okay?”
She looks up at me. “Ashlyn? Why am I on the floor?”
Well, I knocked you down because you were being creepy as fuck.
“I accidentally knocked you over. I think you were sleepwalking.”
Honestly, I’m relieved she didn’t punch me or have a heart attack from being jolted awake so abruptly.
She rubs her head, confused. “Oh, that’s odd,” she replies. “That hasn’t happened in quite some time.”
“You were pointing out the window and saying there was a man out there.”
“That’s crazy talk, honey, of course there’s no one out there, it’s the middle of the night.”
Yeah, no shit.
I nod at her. I think she can see the pure terror in my eyes.
“Let me grab you a glass of ice water, and we can head back to bed. I’m so sorry to wake you, sweetie.”
Aunt Tessie strolls into the kitchen completely unphased, like this has been a normal night. She grabs us two glasses of water and then meets me in my bedroom.
As she tucks me into bed, she apologizes again for waking me and thanks me for keeping her safe. She kisses my forehead, stands from the bed, and walks out of my room, closing the door behind her.
I can’t help but feel a sense of unease, my stomach still sick with the aftershocks of the pain from earlier.
Her sleepwalking was creepy, but then for her to say there was a man outside. And then her waking up acting like nothing even happened? What the hell?
I never did end up seeing anything outside or identify where the tapping was coming from. Not that I really did a ton of investigating; I was mainly just trying to get Aunt Tessie safely back to bed. But the whole ordeal was far too freaky for my liking.
I hear her bedroom door close and see the hallway light shut off. Not sure how much sleep I’ll get after that freak show, but I guess I’ll give it my best attempt.
I force my eyes closed and hide my head under the covers. All I can see behind my eyelids is the black silhouette of a man standing under a tree.
