1.
You’re an adult now and yet the darkness gets to you as though you’re still a little kid. Your mother said you’d grow out of it. So many years later you’re still waiting for that day. That day you’ll finally grow up and everything will be easy.
It’s never going to happen.
Perhaps it has nothing to do with growing up at all. Maybe the reason is simple. Maybe simply living alone is reason enough. The shadows fill with stalking men. The silence echoes with clandestine whispers. A woman—alone. Your mother warned you about that too.
What does it matter what your mother thinks? She’s dead now. The darkness has eaten her up.
Rolling over, you peer over your covers towards Humphrey, your stuffed gorilla sitting on your desk. A stream of moonlight gleams against his eye as he gazes back at you. He lost his other eye years before, when you were still a kid. He’s cute and soft. Dependable. Always on the look out. Maybe if you had a gorilla for a pet, you wouldn’t feel so scared—or lonely.
A dumb thing to think. He’d attack you and eat your face. You must be tired.
Yawning, you close your eyes.
The next time you wake, it’s dark. Well … you think you’re awake. Your eyes roll in your sockets. You can’t move your head. You can’t move your arms or legs either. It’s like your own body is pushing you back into the bed.
But are you even in bed? The darkness is deeper than it’s ever been. Where’s the moon? The utter blackness has swallowed up your entire room, subsuming your furniture completely. It’s like you’re in outer space. Or perhaps you’re dead. Maybe you died in your sleep. Maybe this is all there is.
And then there’s the silence. Utter silence. As complete as the blackness. No sound of distant traffic. No sounds of crickets or barking dogs or croaking frogs. You can’t even hear the dependable ticking of your grandfather clock. It’s almost as terrifying as the black. Your ears are ringing.
You try to scream but like the rest of your body, you have no control over it. A gurgle does manage to claw up your throat, though, and it sounds explosive in the emptiness.
And that’s when the lights turn on. So suddenly, so brightly, that you squeeze your eyes shut in pain. You try to cry out but, again, all you can manage is a strangled croak.
And that’s when it becomes noisy. Very noisy. Whirring. Banging. Crunching. Whining. Beeping. You struggle to open your eyes again, rolling them in your head. Your heart jolts. You swear you see movement. A figure. You shut your eyes in pain, then open them again. Again and again, you do so until your eyes finally adjust.
And then you see it—the figure. It’s standing over you.
You must be dreaming. This can’t be real.
It’s … it’s not human. At least, not in part. It’s wearing a grey suit but metal gleams in its face. Around the ear, along the jaw.There’s more that runs along its throat and disappears down the neck of its suit. But that’s not the worst of it. It’s left eye—it’s gone. There’s an empty socket, almost as empty and deep as a skull’s, except for the red light that beams out from somewhere deep within. It seems to x-ray you as he looks at you.
He. Him. Definitely male.
You look above towards the noises. Your eyes widen and you suck in a breath as a whole myriad of equipment descends towards you. Tubes. Pipes. Lots and lots of needle-like sharp things. They twist and click and beam bright colours.
You choke again as you try to scream. Tears roll down your cheeks. The light is blinding. One of the clicking instruments snaps its metal pincers in front of your face before proceeding to clasp at your chin, holding your head steady. Another instrument descends, long and thin like a pencil. The pincer tilts your chin, angling up your nose.
Horror pulls at your intestines.
‘STOP!’ you finally scream. ‘STOP! STOP! STOP!’
The long pencil pauses. You watch in tearful relief as it pulls back up into the ceiling. You sob. The pincer still hasn’t released your chin. You suddenly remember the metal man as he moves. Your eyes lock onto him but you can’t meet that terrifying gaze. He’s holding something—a mask. He reaches over to place it over your head.
‘NO!’
He secures it. You hold your breath for barely a few seconds before your panic drives you to take several, deep gulps of air.
Darkness descends.
Some time later, you wake again. This time, you sit up with a gasp. You can move! It’s dark. But it’s not the same as the pitch black of your dreams. For it must have been a dream, surely. And yet, you grab at your face, searching for the pincer and the mask. You twist and turn in your bed—but you’re alone. Moonlight illuminates your furniture.
Quickly, you reach over and switch on your lamp. The shadows vanish and you feel more yourself again. The frogs and crickets are croaking and chirping. There’s a light drumming of rain. It takes several long moments for your heart to slow. You touch your face again. You can almost feel the mask pressing against your cheeks. You drop your hand to your chest. It felt so real. You’ve never had a dream like that before.
You give a crazy little laugh. You must be going insane. You look over and spot Humphrey gazing at you. You stare back into his one eye. He reminds you so much of the metal man in your dream that it’s dizzying.
Getting up, you make your way down to the hall to your bathroom, staggering a little, strangely fuzzy-headed. After relieving yourself, you wash your hands and blow your nose. Your heart skips a beat at the blood on your tissue. You wrinkle your nose at the itchiness as you recall the long pencil-like tool.
Your heart thuds as you stare at yourself in the mirror. Not possible. It’s obviously allergies. You felt it in reality and transcribed it into your dreams. Yes. That’s it. Still, you take several moments to study yourself. Nothing unusual.
Huffing at your stupidity, you go back to your bedroom. Humphrey’s one eye watches you. With a shiver, you grab him and deposit him outside your door. Switching off the lamp, you snuggle deep into your blankets and throw one over your head as you curl into a ball.
It’s times like this when you wish you weren’t alone. A friend. A boyfriend. A dog. Anything will do. The face of the metal man flashes in your mind. Your hands are trembling and you tuck them into your armpits. Maybe you should lay off the Sci Fi for a while.
You close your eyes.
