A Most Unfortunate View

Alan had just moved into an eight story apartment in a new development on the outskirts of town. He was attracted to its proximity to the major highway on ramp that led him to his job, thirty miles away. It also had a lower price given its distance from downtown. What really closed the deal for Alan was the view.

From the laundry room window, he could see the skyline of downtown in the distance, off to the left. Situated right in front was a legally protected swath of woods. It measured around half of a mile in length and maybe a hundred yards in depth. A little stream ran through the middle so it was teeming with life. On the other side of the woods was a wall that delineated his middle class bubble from the outside world.

Immediately on the other side of the barrier was a trailer park, surrounded by a fence that time and a lack of funds had eroded. Beyond that was farmland as vast as the sea. Due to the highest trees in the wooded area, these features did not compose Alan’s view. These trees were seated on a slight incline that ran through the middle of the woods. This gave the impression they were a lot deeper than they were, as if they went on forever. Alan’s universe, from inside his apartment was the far off city and these immediate woods.

Alan smoked cigarettes in the laundry room. In the morning, the woods were green, lush and full of life. At night, they were black, eerie, yet still full of life. The distance from his 8^th floor window gave him the bravery to stare at length into the woods for he knew that he wouldn’t even have the courage to stand at the edge by himself at night.

One night, while smoking, something in the blackness of the woods caught his eye. An isolated light would dance, momentarily, before going out only to reappear a few yards over in any direction. At first, Alan thought nothing of it but it had gone on long enough for Alan to chain smoke two cigarettes.

Alan called the guards at the gate. He fathomed there might be some kids playing with matches in the woods. The guards assured him they’d look into it and wished him a good night. His was pleased with his citizenry and decided to go to bed.

A half hour into slumber, the urge to urinate aroused him from bed. He decided he’d sneak another cigarette before going back to sleep. He saw a flashlight at the edge of the woods. It must be the guards, he thought. He saw the strange lights dance closer and closer to where the guards were. He almost called out to him but he remembered he was paying a premium to live far away from people who shout from windows.

The next morning, as Alan drove towards the gate, a group of police cars caught his attention. As he rolled by, he slowed to a stop and asked what was happening. He was told that one after another the guards went to investigate possible arson in the woods and all three failed to return. A chill rushed through Alan’s body. He didn’t even think to mention it was he who called it in.

At work, Alan could only think of the dancing lights. Wherever there was black, he saw them. Before turning on his computer, he saw them in the screen of his monitor. When going to the bathroom, he saw them in the moment of darkness before the automatic lights turned on. He went to smoke in the dark warehouse and he saw them at the other end. Those were moments of sheer terror before he found the light switch and made then go away.

Alan was jumpy all day. He decided he was not being productive so he shut down his computer and headed for home. He told his boss he was not feeling well and that he’d tie up some loose ends from his laptop. Given Alan was an excellent employee, his boss wished him well and told him he’d see him tomorrow.

When Alan pulled up to the gate, he pressed the remote opener but nothing happened. A guard came out from the booth and manually opened the gate. He was informed there had been no power since the morning. Having been on edge all day, this information made the hair on the back of his neck stand up.

Alan parked his car in his designated spot and walked towards his building. The street lights in the parking lot were off so it was exceptionally dark. There wasn’t an iota wind, yet the woods sounded as if they were being blown around by a storm. As he approached his building and the woods became visible, he was shocked that not a single leaf stirred.

Alan was forced to take the stairs. As the fire door slammed behind him, he found himself in complete blackness. He waved his arms around to activate the motion sensors of the emergency lights and nothing happened. Fear paralyzed Alan. He turned to open the fire door with the intention of running from the building. He pushed on the bar and nothing happened. He was trapped.

He ran to the first floor in the dark. He pushed on the door. Nothing. It, too, didn’t open. He looked down from where he came. Tears filled his eyes when he saw the dancing lights. He wiped the tears away and ran to the second floor. The door wouldn’t budge. Although he didn’t feel anything, it sounded as if there were a strong wind blowing in the staircase. He looked back, the lights were already halfway between him and the first floor. He cried out in horror. He ran up the stairs in the dark, tripping over his heavy, clumsy feet. The lights continued pursuing him.

He reckoned he was around his floor and with all the faith he could muster he pushed on the door. It opened. He was, in fact, on his floor. The last dwindling day light crept in through a window at the end of the hall. All of the doors to all of the apartments were wide open, including his own. The windows of all the apartments were open as well and curtains were being sucked out and blown around by a wind that could not be felt.

Alan ran into his apartment and slammed the door. He turned the deadbolt and ran to the laundry room. Wind was pounding on his door. Alan squatted down in the darkness and hugged his knees, sobbing uncontrollably. With a crash his door flew open. The dead bolt was ripped right out of the jam.

The lights were dancing in his doorway and in those of his neighbors. He couldn’t move. A thousand memories flooded him at once, yet instead of being overloaded by the passing images he was able to distinguish each one individually and give each one a little attention, all at the speed of light. He came to the disappointing conclusion that this was it. It was all for naught, his life, so he thought he’d take the matter into his own hands.

His whole life he did the right thing; studied, worked hard and deprived himself of many pleasures and it was going to end like this. The lights danced towards him and with a primal scream, he threw himself through the window.

He braced for impact but after a few moments, re realized he was not falling. He opened his eyes. He was suspended in the air. He looked towards the woods and they were alive with the dancing lights. There were hundreds, perhaps thousands of them, coming and going with unnatural spontaneity.

He felt himself being pulled towards the woods. He wept in defeat. As he was gently landed in the middle of the woods all went black. The dancing lights disappeared at once. The sound of wind immediately stopped. All the lights of the complex came back on. The three night guards from the night before emerged from the woods, naked and screaming. Alan was never seen again.

Aghast Pt. 1

“Call the tech guy, the auto-tuner is broken. It just zonked out” Dawson, the studio engineer, barked out. “And in the meantime, how about everyone have a smoke or get some fresh air. Whichever floats your boat”

The room cleared out, except for Leticia, the multi-platinum talent who was recording.

“You gonna stay here, honey?” Dawson asked. She shyly nodded. “Suit yourself!” he added before putting a brown filtered cigarette into his mouth and heading out.

Leticia sat there in the eerie silence of the sound proofed studio. Every once in a while, she let out an “Uhhh!” just to hear it deadened on the insolated walls. All of a sudden and uncontrollable drowsiness washed over her. She looked at her cell phone. It was 10:30pm, not so late for her, but the yawning became more and more intense. She decided she´d close her eyes until the crew returned.

After what felt like hours, she opened her eyes only to find the studio still empty. She figured she must have dozed off deeply, but momentarily. She felt a slight haze in her head and her eyes were having difficulty adjusting. Some colors were more brilliant than others and some even had trails coming from them when she squinted her eyes. “I must still be very sleepy” she thought.

She sat there for what felt like much more time than was necessary for the crew to have a smoke. She decided to go see what was taking them so long. When she stood up, her legs gave out as if they were jell-o under her. To make things more complicated, the floor felt like a trampoline.

Her first thought was that she must have been drugged. She started for the door but realized she had little control of her members. She dragged herself over what felt like an elastic surface until she found her way to the door. She turned the knob. It just spun and spun and nothing happened. She tried to scream but nothing came out of her mouth. Instead her own shrill cry reverberated in her own head.

(To be continued…)

Aghast Pt. 2

Attack of the Killer Imagination!

“I wish he could talk to me” Ben told his mother. He was referring to his favorite teddy bear Chase.

“If you use your imagination, Ben, he can” his mother answered, barely paying attention to the boy.

Ben´s eyes lit up with the possibilities. His mother´s words echoed in his head, “If you use your imagination…..”

A few moments passed and Ben snapped out of his trance. He grabbed his teddy bear off the floor and told his mother he was going to his room.

Once in his room, Ben sat the teddy bear at the head of the bed as if the bear needed to relax. He went into his closet. He took a shoe lace from one of his sneakers. He proceeded to tie it around the bears neck.

“You´re gonna talk and you´re gonna talk now” Ben said.

The bear just looked at him with his plastic eyes reflecting Ben´s angry face.

“You´re gonna be a hero, huh?” and with that Ben tightened the shoe lace.

Still, the teddy bear gave no satisfaction to Ben. Ben wound up an elbow and struck it across the bear´s face. “Talk!” he said. He struck the bear a few more times.

“Okay, okay!” the bear finally said. “What do you want to know?”

“I knew you weren´t so tough!” Ben said, triumphantly. “I want to know what Mom got me for Christmas and I want to know now!”

“How the fuck should I know?” the bear answered.

“Hey, watch your mouth!” Ben said.

“It´s your imagination who is doing the talking, pal” the bear answered defiantly.

“Yeah, you right. But back to the subject. What did Mom get me for Christmas?” Ben asked again.

“I don´t know!” Either I am with you or I am in your room. It´s not like I can just get up and walk around the house you know!” the bear said.

Ben thought quickly. If imagining gets the bear to talk, then maybe imagining can get him to move. “You´re gonna figure it out for me one way or another” Ben said.

“Fuck you” the bear said.

“I said stop that!” Ben complained.

“Again, you are in charge here….Hello?!” the bear said in a snarky tone.

“True. But anyway, tonight, when my mom is asleep, I´m gonna want you to go into her room and look in her closet. I need to know what I´m getting” Ben said.

“That´s a stupid fucking idea. You know your mom is a light sleeper” the bear said.

Ben was furious at the bear´s foul mouth. He let it go this time. He simply said, “You´ll make it work. I´ll use my imagination”

Later that night when the house was quite and still, the alarm Ben set on his cell phone went off. He looked over at Chase the Bear´s chair but he was not there. With his legs still on the mattress he leaned off the side of the bed and had a look under. Nothing. He was sure he had put Chase in his chair before nodding off to sleep.

The he felt as if a small animal had jumped on the other side of the bed. He jumped up. There were no pets in the house since his beloved cat died three months earlier. Then he felt a weight on his chest and something fury forcing its way into his mouth. It was Chase!

“I am so sick and tired of you kid” Chase said as he shoved his arm into Ben´s mouth and covered his nose with the other.

Ben couldn´t make a sound. He felt powerless against the otherwise weightless bear. The more he wanted to struggle the more he could not. Tears were streaming down his eyes.

“This is just your imagination, kid” Chase said. “You´re in control here”

All Ben could do was cry. His head started to feel light. He couldn´t hear much. His desperation was rounding the curve and turning into an eerie calm. Then, he felt a vibration by his side. Then he heard a familiar music start to play. Softly at first, gradually getting louder.

All of a sudden he felt sweet air fill his lungs. He looked around. His face was dry. No tears had fallen. He looked to his side. Chase was sitting there just as he had left him there.

That day Ben decided to think twice before using his imagination.

In the Salt Mine

 

Deep in the Bavarian salt mines is where Rolf spent most of his waking hours. It didn´t matter that he felt dead in the dry darkness. He had mouths to feed. His body was deteriorating exponentially in his later years. The end was near for Rolf and he knew it. He welcomed it. His demise would not even entail many teary heartfelt good-byes. He barely knew his children. He spent on average twelve hours per day in the salt mine. He wouldn´t miss the finer things in life. He never knew them.

His day was greeted with a cup of harsh black coffee in a tin cup and a thick piece of tasteless bread with sour tasting butter. His lunch was not that much better and his dinner was absent most days. He didn´t have a notion of what a weekend was so that was one more thing he could not miss. Even the sun was something that he barely knew. Every once in a while, when he remembered to do so, before descending into the black square hole of the mine aboard the rickety wooden mine cart, he would consciously feel the rays of the sun on his skin. It was so warming that it sent chills in other parts of his body. But even this he did little of because most days he was getting screamed at for the duration of the descent. The conversation was usually about quotas.

One day he was toiling away trying to make his quota for the first time in 4 days he heard a faint noise in the distance. He grabbed a torch and went to investigate. As he got closer, the noise became more audible. It sounded like human groans, very weak groans and not those of a man. As he got closer to the source he saw a little boy pinned under a flat rock of heavy salt. The boy was near death. He must have been down there for some time.

Rolf leaned close to the boys face to see if he was breathing. Breaths were very shallow and few and far between. With every breath came a low moan. To Rolf´s horror he heard some material slide. The walls were caving in a little more. He attempted to lift the rock off the boy but it was too heavy. He could easily break the rock by striking it with his pick but he risked further injuring the wounded child.

He thought to get help when the child said “Don´t leave me sir. It´s cold and I´m scared. The shadows are circling us. They are calling me. They seem to stay away with you here.”

So that was that. He could not even think of leaving the boy after hearing that. But if he didn´t do something quickly, they would both spend the night in the mine and surely the boy would die.

Rolf caressed the boys head and leaned again the smooth mine wall. As he leaned back his torch started to flicker. Damn, it was running out of fuel. He maybe had 15 minutes of light left and he had no idea what to do.

“Sir, don´t let it go dark again, I don´t know what the shadows will do. I´m so scared.” the boy said.

Rolf heard more sliding. This shaft was collapsing even more. The light went out prematurely. They were both left in the dark. The boy left out what he could of a scream but it was so muffled and weak that it sounded more like a prolonged cough.

Rolf heard whispers in the darkness. At first he thought they were his men coming to help. But he quickly realized otherwise. He went to feel for the head of the boy but it was gone. So was the rest of him. The boy was no longer there. Now the whispers increased. He was surrounded by them. He left out a scream but nothing came out.

*   *   *   *

Meanwhile on the surface the owner of the mine was giving a statement to the constable.

“Around 4:30 it looks like the whole west wing shaft collapsed” he said.

“How many survivors?” the constable asked.

“Well, looks like everybody made it out to safety, except Rolf. Poor fellow. He was deeper than the rest, probably due to not making his quota for 4 days. He was really trying to get it today. Looks like it cost him”

 

 

What’s in the Egg?

 

It was a normal school day and Brian and Chris were in the kitchen having breakfast as their mother was getting ready for work upstairs. They each had a bowl of cereal, a glass of juice and a hardboiled egg. This was normal school day morning fare.

Brian was his usually quiet self. He was taking their parents separation much harder. It was him, after all, who caught his mother felating his father’s best friend in a parked car at the supermarket and told anybody who would listen. He still felt guilty for breaking them up. Chris, on the other hand, couldn’t care less. If ignorance is bliss, Chris passed through life in ecstasy. He was a probably just an I.Q. point or two higher from being deemed a clinical moron.

Chris might not be that bright, but he was warm and lived off of human contact. He was always trying to engage his brother Brian. He would ask nonstop mundane questions just to feel a connection. He looked over at Brian and noticed a peculiar look on his face. Brian had somehow managed to break a perfectly circular opening in his hardboiled egg and was intensely staring into it. His face looked almost as if it were in a trance.

“What’s in the egg” Chris asked. There was no answer. Chris didn’t think much of it as Brian usually is stingy with answers. He went back to crunching away his cereal. A few moments past and he noticed that Brian had not moved and was with the same exact expression, staring into the egg.

“Hey man, what’s so interesting about that egg?” Chris asked again. Brian didn’t even sway. His muscles were locked into place as his stare was pulled into the small circle on the top of the egg. Chris’s tone changed a little. There was a little worry in it this time. “Brian. What’s going on? What’s in the egg?” No response. Chris started to get a weird feeling and goose bumps chased each other up and down his legs and arms as he looked at the face of his brother.

“Let me see” Chris said as he started to lean over Brian’s egg. Whack. The bottom of Brian’s palm struck his forehead before he got even close enough to get a peak. Brian did not take his stare away from the head the whole time. His eyes remained fixed on the contents of the egg.

“You’re freaking me out” Chris said. “I am going to tell mom”

Chris was confused as he walked up the steps. He heard the blow dryer going in the bathroom. He banged on the door. “Mom” he said. No answer. He banged again. “Mom” he repeated. Just more blow drying, but no answer. There was something odd about the sound of the blow dryer. It was steady. As if it was on but not moving around. Chris was getting really freaked out. He opened the door.

He could have never been prepared for what he saw. Not in a million years. His mother was lying naked on the floor with the cord of the hair dryer around her neck. Her face was blue. Chris did not need to check to know that she was dead. He ran back down to the kitchen screaming for Brian.

When he got to the kitchen, Brian was gone. But the egg remained on the table. Chris had the wherewithal to take a look inside. He slowly walked over to the table. Each step was laborious; his feet seemed to weigh a ton. As he leaned over the table and his eye sight was fixed into the perfect circle of the egg, his world went black.