Chapter Text
I wake up in a stark black room with a cold tile floor and that rancid smell of old vinegar. I feel faint and dizzy, almost as if I stood up too fast, but I’m seated on the flat, freezing tiles. I don’t make an effort to stand, as that would make the feeling of dizziness worse. I shuffle to the nearest corner I could feel and lie against it, when I hear the familiar creaking of an ancient door hinge. The light passes through the crack of the door and I see the faint shape of something adjacent to the human figure; the only difference is the sheer length of the figure, towering over the door frame. It needed to crouch in order to get into the room. I feel my weak heart drop at the size of the figure, not to mention the ambiguity of it. I push myself as close to the corner as possible, in an attempt to get as far away as I can from it. The figure creeps its way into the room, its footsteps nearly inaudible as if it were used to closing in on its prey in silence. It brings its face closer to mine and I squeeze my eyes shut, turn my head, and lift my arms as a barrier. All feels still. I feel the slightest touch upon my arms followed by a grip of my lower arm. A shiver goes through my body, as if I had just been shocked by an electric outlet. I open my eyes and glance at the figure, my entire body shaking. Its face is right upon mine and I let out a whimper. The figure responds with a slight, “errrr…” and cocks its head to the side. Out of the corner of my eye I think I see the shape of another person standing in the doorway.
I feel a jolt as I let in the light of my bedroom, my eyelids creating a vignette around my vision. My body is covered in sweat. The most primal parts of my psyche are shrouded in the feeling of unease. I sit up and look around and see my dresser to the left of my bed, the light glistening upon the top of it from the window just behind it. I look over to my clock sitting right on top of it. It’s 12:00 PM. SHIT, I’M LATE FOR WORK.
…
“You’re late again, Aster?” Amanda, my manager, says to me with the most concerned expression I’ve seen in a while, “What are we going to do with you.”
“I’m sorry, I just accidentally slept in.”
“Well, you need to get that sorted out, and soon,” she says to me like a mom who just found out that their kid got a bad grade, “The big guy’s almost had it with you coming in late.”
“I know,” I respond, “I’m sorry.”
Amanda lets out a sigh. “It’s okay. Anyways, you’re on register three today.”
I walk over to the back office and close the door to wait for my till to be delivered. I sit down in front of the old, dingy computer that we insist on keeping, regardless of all of the problems it’s developed over the years. I slouch back in the most uncomfortable office chair known to mankind. I drift off a bit, thinking about my dream again. What was that thing that was coming after me, and why? Why was I scared of it? It looked like it only wanted to help me… Anyways, I shouldn’t be rationalizing a monster’s actions in a dream. I have been having weird dreams lately; the most recent one being the most odd. I wonder…
I’m abruptly interrupted by the sound of scraping metal against wood. I stand up to grab my till from the slot and sit down with it to count the money. “Okay! Ummm,” I reach over to the ticket to see how much I’ve been given for the day. “Three…six…four…two…”
…
I let out a big sigh as I open the door to my fossil of a vehicle. Nothing really interesting about it, other than the car tree that has been hanging in there ever since I inherited the car from my mother a year ago. My parents had been long gone since the…incident. I turn on my radio and the thought of my dream comes in my head again. I begin to wonder around when I started to have these odd dreams. I guess watching one’s parents get their heads smashed in gives one bad dreams. I shake the thought from my head to avoid another episode. I look around my dingy, old car to look for some sense of reason, thinking to myself, “What will happen when I do go back to sleep? Am I going to have another weird dream?” Oh well, that should be the least of my worries as I come home from work. I try to smile and go on with my day as if nothing ever happened in an attempt to “act normal” as if the entire world is watching me from inside my car. I quickly find myself staring into nothing for a few minutes, mind blank with only the sound of the radio playing to let me know if time had passed. I snap out of it and shake my head. “Everything’s okay,” I tell myself as I boot up the car and get ready to go home.
The night has begun to fall upon the desolate city of Newton, North Carolina, my home. I pass by familiar sights on my way home, the pet shop where I got my first cat, the grocery store that I buy from every week (that’s if I feel like eating), the gym that my mom used to work out at, all are so familiar to me, considering I’ve lived here ever since I was a baby. It’s got its flaws, mainly the back alleyways where the dealers of the town congregate and the multitude of confusing roads that cause many a car crash on a nearby daily basis (seriously the infrastructure of this place needs help), but it’s where I live for now, and I’m going to have to deal with it. Sometimes I dream that the dreams I have when I’m in a liminal space are real. Something different would be nice, for once at least.
I pull into my driveway and greet the dead bushes and rotting wooden pallets that have been sitting on the side of my house for a while. I brush past the grey bricks and weed-laden front lawn and approach my white door. At least, it used to be white, but it’s now covered in unknown brown stains from either mud or bug guts. Disgusting, I know, but it’s not like I have the motivation to clean. I twist the door handle and open the door to see my nearly empty house, other than the mess of trash in the corner with my trashcan.
I stumble past the living room and into my bedroom. I immediately hit the bed, face first and let out a groan. I roll over into the fetal position. I hate how tired I am all of the time; it’s so unbearable.