What i seek, is what i see. (A short- but rather long story)

A light drizzle pours outside, gently, but further from calm. The pitter patters are scattered, scattered in a way that irritates you. Every drop seems choreographed. It’s almost as if someone intended the drops to fall in a certain way, at a certain place, at a certain time, for a certain reason.

The view outside seems clear, even though my vision is blurry. Pushing the bed sheet aside, I stare at the window for a few moments. Watch the droplets race down the windowpane. The day is grey, or maybe the sun hasn’t risen yet. But the world seems alive. Maybe it’s the raindrops, maybe it’s just a hunch. Or maybe I’ve slept through dawn.
As I sit there contemplating, staring at the eggshell white wall, the alarm goes off. I pounce before the second note of that awful tone, bang the darn machine. Day’s like these remind me of groundhog day. A sadder, lonelier version of it.
Isn’t it astounding? How people keep working for a better future, for a lavish retirement, to buy that new car, to impress a fellow mate, most of which is absent in the present. People work for a future, abandoning the present times. Ignoring the fact the future will one day, be the present. The present they so willingly abandon. Maybe it’s human nature. Maybe it’s nature’s way of keeping us on our toes, on the lookout.
I’ve also been a victim to this disease. But today seems different, the rain seems to bring with it, a subtle message.
Maybe it’s a new beginning or maybe I should be on the lookout. Something ominous lurks within the silence between every consecutive rain drop. The walls tower over the window, which gets foggy after a while. Or maybe it’s my vision?
The alarm goes off once again, it’s shrewd high pitched tone startles me out of bed. I carefully press “off” button this time, screaming at the top my lungs. Curse at the generous forefathers who invented the snooze.
Being late to the job isn’t a cause for concern anymore. I sleep for a while, extend it a half hour more.
I dress up hurriedly and horrendously. I need to leave the house, escape the bad start to this grey, dull and ominous day. I grab a coat instead of an umbrella today.

The feeling of warmth along with the icy raindrops blessing my face is euphoric. I walk down the stairs behind the alleyway today, my steps guide me towards my destination on its own. I look around, stand for a bit under the window of Ms. Glee. As suggested by her name, she was one gleeful, beautiful and admirable lady. I stand besides her window, peeking into her home, not expecting to see anything. It’s always been weird since she disappeared. Nobody knows where she is, even though people tried to reach her. Thinking about her disappearance just puts morbid thoughts in my head. She left the house as impeccable as ever. I peek everyday, maybe because the condition of her house makes me feel like she is around somewhere. As I stand there on my toes, peeking into her humble abode, Mittens the stray cat walks by, purring. I call her out in a hushed tone. I try not to disturb Ms. Glee out of courtesy, even when she’s not around.
I whistle and mittens turns her head immediately. There is a flicker in her dark bulgy eyes. Her ears are perked up and she walks towards me slowly. I watch her walk down the damp alleyway towards me. Strangers walk by on the street across the alleyway.
A humongous figure with a leather jacket stops suddenly mid step. He turns his head and looks towards me, as I watch mittens slowly make her way to where I stood. The man is huge, with his coat flapping erratically due to the wind. He seemed as if he was trying to hit something within coat. He looks right at me. White eyes on a black figure standing yards away. I rub my eyes, blink for a second and he’s gone. It was weird, or maybe it’s my blurred vision.
I suddenly feel a weight bearing down my chest. I can feel several eyes upon me. As soon as I’m trying to brush off the weird incident of the coated figure, I suddenly get a feeling like I’m being watched. I look at mittens and she staring at something behind me. I freeze. I turn my head, cautiously.
To my surprise, a bunch of people have been staring at me and mittens in the alleyway. The day was so dark and grey that most of the figures seemed like a black smudge to my vision. But it’s wasn’t my delusion this time. Why would they be staring at me? I look down upon my clothes. Perhaps I’m missing an item? But I’m not. I’m shabby but fully clothed. It took me a second to realize I was standing beneath the window of a person who had recently vanished without a trace. It fills me up with dread. But somehow, I can’t justify my stance on this. Even though I’ve never been guilty of any malpractices and I’ve refrained from committing any wrongdoing. I feel scared. Like I’ve been caught. I’m a criminal caught in the act. A figure standing deep within the bunch called out to me, by name. The abnormality of the situation startled me and I took off instinctively.
In a moment, I find myself running down the street holding the poor cat in my hands, colliding with strangers. But I can’t stop. My legs won’t stop. Several people curse at my reckless nudging but I can’t hear it. I hear the distress I caused, but I can’t comprehend the sounds.
I feel the adrenaline drip into my bloodstream as rush past the usual route to the office. It takes a while before I get back to my senses.

I stop at a crosswalk right across the office. As I stood there panting, the rush of adrenaline eggs me to go on. Finish the chase. Evade those who hunt me on this morbid day. The entrance to the building stands a few yards away. It’s dusky and grey. The billboard hardly visible due to the fog. The glass door stood there watching, mocking the state of a worried me.

These strangers are plotting something sinister. Every glance by a stranger is followed by a complete scan of me. Maybe there’s a hitman hunting for me. Maybe the her kidnappers of Ms. Glee want to frame me. Maybe there’s a bounty for my head. A bounty so large, that even the do gooder’s feel persuaded to hunt me down. But why would I be their target? I’m known as the person who the most non-invasive and decent person in the locality. I liked Ms. Glee, but never confessed. She was a harmless crush, a person i never talked to. Why would someone go out of their way to have me put down? Ms. Glee can’t possibly be the reason i’m being hunt down. It seems like there’s more to this.
I try and justify my case with every gasp of air. I’ve seldom acted mean, nor have I shunned anyone. I’ve never been unfaithful either.
Maybe the people dislike how just and honest I am. It seems like the logical reason. You know, ‘Straightest trees get cut down first’ kind of thing. But something about it doesn’t feel right. My heart talks about something else. It’s whispers struggle to reach my ear. But with every broken syllable, the picture becomes clearer. I’ve been a part of something sinister, something evil. Something I shouldn’t have been a part of. Is it something I’ve witnessed that was meant to be a secret? I’m being punished for not doing nothing at all. It seems clearer now.

‘’Your inaction is the cause’’ whispers mittens staring right at me with its whiskers perked up. I stare at Mittens for a second before realizing how deep she had dug her claws onto my arms.

I drop the cat that instant and run right across the crosswalk. I’ve always shunned jaywalking but I didn’t hesitate to commit that crime that instant. I dart up the stairs ignoring the pleasant greeting of Bob the security guy. I’m pretty sure he’s confused and drawing several conclusions for my behavior. But I’m pretty sure he’s going to stick to the “Maybe he needs to piss” reason.

A blast of warm air hits me as I enter the office. I look around and find all eyes on me. No suspicion arose in my head this time. They’re probably wondering why I’m behaving this erratically. I take a deep breath, think about happy thoughts.
It’s funny how happy thoughts are always used in the times of crisis, even though they are meant to be enjoyed and cherished. They’re just mere tools for the rational person inside of us. It’s the whip used to tame the aggravated, angry animal inside all of us.
I stood at the entrance for a few seconds, gaining my composure back. Involuntarily, I find my hand reaching out and hanging my coat on the coat rack right beside me.
Ross waves at me from his cubicle and points to his watch. I smile awkwardly and make my way to the restroom.

In front of me stands a man, shabby, scruffy and confused. I stare at him, peer right across his bulging dark eyes. He smiles. A smile has always brought out a far better version of me. I’m hoping I could stick this one to my face for the rest of this god awful day.
I set my hair the usual way. A firm right swipe and then a shake of the head. The authentic slick look. All the while, I was unaware of how empty the restroom was. I look around, stay silent, hoping to hear someone in the stalls. But the cold, smelly air suggested otherwise. Maybe it’s cleaning time.

I head towards the exit and find the figure standing right in front of me. The humongous, coated figure I saw on the alleyway stood against me at this very moment. I froze. I was about to make a run for it. But he blocked the doorway completely. I walked back hesitantly, watching every step. He is a foot taller than me. Muscular, with brawny forearms, veins protruding from every visible angle. It takes seconds for him to look down me. I walk back hesitantly. Plotting my escape from this certain demise. As I walked back, scanning my immediate direction with my hand, I get a glance of his face. He has a mild scruff, a round face with a very odd choice of spectacles. The kind that would probably look goofy on any normal person but seemed menacing on him. But his face was blurry. Its was as if my mind was intentionally blurring out the details of his face
. He breathes like a giant. His steps follow mine as I keep moving backwards. Is this how it ends? A silent, clean kill. Or maybe I’m going to be tortured to death. Tortured with every punch in the gut. These clean white, tiled walls will be the witness to this. Witness to the crime, the bystander, unable to help. With a deep, hoarse voice he says “You were there under Ms. Glee’s house weren’t you? I was looking for you.” And then calls me out by name.
The end cannot possibly be near. I’ve got to escape. I have to leave before I hear the end of this monologue. The monologue which always ends with the person snuffing out a soul from this world. With all my might, I run forwards. It looked impossible to knock him down. But if that’s what it took to survive, so be it. He moves aside the second I’m about to hit him. A clean dodge. In accordance with my plan. I go for the doorway, not looking back. Running across the corridor towards the cubicles were a blur. Maybe it was the adrenaline, or just my vision.

Ross calls out me and I look back for a second. The sight is mind boggling. Every person clogged up in their filthy cubicles were staring at me. Ross started to walk towards me and that’s when my suspicion went out of bounds. They’re after me. In a split second, I’m two storeys down the stairwell. I can hear my coat calling out to me. I feel guilty for leaving it behind. It’s always sad to leave behind a comrade on the battlefield. I reach the gate and Bob stands in my way. I push right across him as he shouts my name, asking me stop.

I don’t understand, how much is my head worth? Is it enough for people to turn against me? Even my loved ones? Maybe the bonds I made weren’t that strong. Maybe I failed at being the proper loved one. Or maybe unbreakable bonds don’t exist. There’s no bond in the world that money cannot break. I’m not the only victim to this inevitable situation but also a suspect. Maybe there are poor souls out there, watching every move. The one’s who are afraid to talk to strangers. The one’s who do not get out of the house. People who can hardly trust anyone. Maybe I’m about to become one of them. It has been the right way to live all along.

I run across the same crosswalk I stood on before. Run through the same alleyway. Ignoring Ms. Glee’s house for the very first time. This was no time to be a lackey. It rained heavily. Droplets as huge as marbles came down. Patting the ground harshly, forcing to bend the cobblestone ground. Soaking wet, I run through the rain. It’s often fun running through rain when you’re not chased by every person in the city.

Every stranger seemed to have their eyes on me. I had an eye on everyone as I run across them. I had eyes on the road. I had eyes on the sidewalk. I was aware of every object around me as I ran around helplessly. I was sure a car would hit me out of nowhere. With a smug smile on his face, the driver would claim victory. For a second, I felt like it would’ve been a perfect way to go. I wouldn’t see it coming. The anticipation of death would never arise.
I couldn’t wait to reach home. My hideout, the most stupid place to hide from the world. Which was soon going to be my exile.

I put on every lock in existence as I dripped all over the carpet. I put on the last lock and locked the chain. It was comforting. The familiarity of the surroundings, the humming of the age old refrigerator. I glance over the locks for the last time before getting a change of clothes. I look around the house and feel a certain kind of sadness take over me. The window was foggy. The day was still grey. Once this passes, it’ll be alright. Paranoia hasn’t vanished, it’s hibernating. I change into something warm, yet comfortable enough to handle physical stress.
I wasn’t going to go out without a fight. I push the sofa and place it facing the door. The screech is mild, the dusty carpet resists the movement of the sofa. Is it against me too now?

I sit on the sofa, with a baseball bat right beside me.
I haven’t felt this way since the time I fought off a few bag snatchers years ago. It was the highlight of my vigilante career. It started then and ended with the grateful gesture by the lady. But here I am now, a criminal resisting arrest. Every muscle in my body seems stiffened. The brown, cherry wood door is all I can see. With nothing at the periphery of my vision other than the bat. Is it really possible to survive when everyone is against you? The general thought of ‘good triumphs over evil’ now seems like a bloated mindset. A code of conduct for the slaves of ethics. I hear a mild tap on the door as I there contemplating.
It’s time. I grab a hold of my bat. My mind isn’t ready for it. It begs to reconsider. With cocked arms I move cautiously towards the door. The knocking amplifies, but it doesn’t seem hostile. Hostility is never on a hitman’s mind. It’s just the job.

“Who is it?” I shout. The knocking is repetitive. It has a rhythm to it. “I said, Who is it?” I scream and I hear a reply in a soft coarse voice.

“It’s me, Bob. The security guy at the office. You know me right?”
“What do you want Bob? Why are you doing this?” I retort.

“Sir, your cousin was supposed come to meet you today. Don’t you remember? He came the office today, did you happen to meet him? He says he met you in the office. I saw you running back home from the office. Is everything alright sir?” there’s a slight indication of worry and concern in his voice.

Reality is amusing. It’s omnipresent yet so elusive. Maybe reality is truly a fragment of our minds. Sometimes, when the mind gets bored, it abandons reality or maybe shuts it off temporarily. The mind tells you a story, or in my case, has you live through it. It gives you a taste of different lifestyle. The repetitive days were unending. I never knew the date or day of the week as it hardly mattered. My body, the autonomous entity went through its daily tasks. The mind is forced to come along. It is tortured, forced to live a life nobody would love. Torture isn’t a sudden infliction of pain. It’s the anticipation of pain and lack of it. All I ever did was head to the office and come back, have a few beers and read.

Office, beer, read.
Office, beer, read.
Office, date, more beer, sleepless night.
Office, date, no one to split the bill with, beer, sleep.
Office, beer, read.
Sleep, die, office.

But once a while, the mind fights back. When it does, it’s a sight to relish. A risky experience, that Is always worth it. It’s like a train wreck, you can’t look away even if you want to. It amazing how the mind can weave a different reality with the harsh, realistic, boring version of it.
My mind had me convinced that I was being hunted. It had me convinced that I was part of a big crime. It had me not recognize my cousin. I applaud the capability of this chunk of meat residing within our skulls.

My cousin knew he could find me under Ms. Glee’s window. He knew my generic life. The people calling out to me at the alleyway weren’t strangers but residents of the buildings, trying to console a bereaving part of me. The part that still missed Ms. Glee.
Ross wasn’t about to assassinate me, he was concerned about my poor performance at the job. Bob wasn’t a killer, he’s still a dear friend of mine. Mittens wasn’t possessed, it was just hungry.

I drop the bat, place it at the usual place. Every muscle relaxes slowly. “I’m alright Bob. Thanks for your concern. I’m a little sick, that’s all. I’ll see you tomorrow.” I say as I look around the house.

It has stopped raining, the fog in the window is vanishing slowly.

“Get well soon sir. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Says Bob as he walks away. I can hear the sound of his footsteps receding on the hardwood floored corridor.

I place the sofa back at it’s place. Lay down on the bed staring at the cracked ceiling. A break from reality is fun but it leaves just as silently as it seeps in. It leaves you dealing with the harsh, boring version of it once again.
But I’m thankful. It’s a light in my foggy life. This rainy day was sunny enough for my life.
I’ll be alright, if not, I might embark on another crazy adventure. Crazy in a literal sense.
Being crazy isn’t socially acceptable, maybe because the boundless freedom it gives. A freedom from the inhibitions holding someone back. Freedom from responsibility. Freedom to live a life or get through with the deluded version of it. It’s too unrealistic for the sane. ‘People fear the unknown’

I truly am living groundhog day maybe. Tomorrow is going to be the same old thing, until I or my mind chooses to do something about it.
“we’ll see” says my mind and proceeds to call out my name.

We’ll see.
I lay down, stare at the cracked ceiling as I contemplate about the weird day. The cracks seem to widen, and contract at the same time. It’s weird. Or maybe it’s just my blurred vision.



If i lose you.


Dear Dr. Brandt,
I heard about the recent incident at the hospital. I’m sorry for causing you trouble. Brad is a very obscure specimen. I’m sorry for sending you in without prior notice.
As you requested, here’s the case notes for him. He consulted me a while ago. Hope you find the attached notes. I suggest you have a thorough look at it and let me know what you make of this.

Dr. Susan Jean.

The patient was asked to describe the dilemma/problem he was facing. Here’s the transcription of the recorded conversation.

Session 1- (13/03/10)

It’s frustrating. This constant bombardment of thoughts, voice, opinions are killing me. These voices dictate every move I make and I despise it. It’s tough to live with his voice in this head.
He is unforgivable. Merciless. Ruthless in every possible way. His voice dictates a majority of the actions i make, which feels like bondage.
Every obscure instance is incomplete without his comment. Every thought is incomplete without his touch of uncertainty. Every moment is beautiful until his nasty, disgusting voice destroys this fleeting, delicate feeling of bliss.
I’ve always portrayed myself as a person with a calm composure. People believe that i’m calm and composed. None of them know about the chaos within this head of mine. Even my lovely wife cannot fathom the severity of the situation.
I know what it feels like to have a conjoined twin. Sure, I may not look like it in a physical perspective. But I surely know what it feels like to live within a head split in two.
The difference between the two halves is contrasting and frightening. The host suffers from the plague within this cranium.
I know what triggers him; I wish I knew a way to silence him. I cannot acclimate with his presence. I’ve tried. But with every passing moment, I fall prey to his eternal darkness. I’ve felt suicidal. He’s been a threat to him, to me. I know he wants to hurt me. But that’s what confuses me.
Why would he trick me into killing myself? Why would he plot kill the host he himself resides in?

Notes- The patient seemed twitchy and restless. He is in need of genuine help.

Session 2- (20/03/10)

Guess he introduced me in the last session?
He was kind enough to let me take over for this session. He believes that you need to know me in order to restore peace within this head.
So here I am. Let me make something clear, He’ll never find a way to silence me. With every passing moment, I grow stronger. I feel alive. It’s been a while since I spoke this candidly to a real person.
Let me take this opportunity to make my thoughts tangible. Convey my intentions to the ally.
Here’s something you should know about me
. I’ve been in this struggle for far too long. Every time he tries to silence me, he loses a part of himself. He feeds me with attention. I’ve been in his head since birth. But I never found a way out. Stuck and embedded deep within his brain, I can’t even fathom the struggle I went through. It’s time I took over of what belonged to me.
With his steady 9-5 job. He thinks that he has achieved everything. He believes that he has reached the epitome of his potential. I pity his plight. It’s miserable living around a loser like him. This host can do much more. If only, someone was man enough to push the limits.
I don’t respect him, or you even a little bit. You’re a man, you’re supposed to keep striving. Yet here you are! Comfortable in your 9-5 job, afraid to move on!
He’s pathetic. This host deserves more. The world deserves to see my potential.
This beautiful, elegant and pristine host belongs to me.
He’s incapable of surviving in this ruthless world. Evolution gifted him with such elegant characteristics but his feeble morals and mindset undercut his abilities. This ungrateful prick deserves to be eliminated.
It’s time he went back into the dreaded cave he kept me caged in. It’s time he let someone deserving command the ship. Do you get it now doc? This conflict arose for a reason. There’s no way I’m backing down. I know exactly what to do.
You can’t help but watch doc. Isn’t that all you do? Just watch? Observe? Isn’t that your job? Well, watch what comes next.

Notes- The patient seemed calmed and composed unlike before. He talked in a different accent which hints towards a psychological problem.

Session 3- (01/04/10)

He’s gone doc! I think you talked some sense into him in the last session. But i don’t know if that was necessary.

With every passing second, I feel like I’m losing myself. But it’s different this time. It’s been silent. My head feels hollow. I’m not used to this kind of solitude. I’m relieved that I don’t have to listen to him anymore. He left without notice. He vanished a week ago.
But it does feel eerie. He’s hibernating.
There’s this sense of impending doom lurking around the corners of my mind. I don’t feel complete. I’m grateful at the fact that I’m well off with money and love in my personal life. But it just seems unsatisfactory now. I owe him a share of me. He made the host, what he is.
I feel bleak. The point I’m trying to make is, I feel like I haven’t yet reached my potential yet. I’ve realized that he has been an integral part of me. I feel like I’ve been ungrateful and i feel extremely guilty for that.
I’m relieved at his absence but still miss his presence. But there’s something ominous about him. Something fearful. I’m sure he’s plotting something evil. I’m sure he’s going to come back. But I don’t know when he might return doc. He’s unpredictable. How do I prepare for the imminent threat? I don’t even know the expanse of his potential. I need to plot a way out of this. I need to stop this war. The silence is too much doc.

Notes – The patient seemed restless and fatigued. Brad looked skinnier than usual.

Session 4- (30/04/10)

He’s gone. I’m certain about that this time.
But there have been a lot of issues ever since he took his leave.
I feel disconnected with the world. 
There’s no sense of purpose; there’s no drive left. No ulterior motive to keep going.
The lack of drive in life is killing me.
I’ve always been the brightest guy in the room. But now, being the brightest guy feels like a curse. I feel forced to excel. I feel forced to live up to peoples expectations. I feel like i’m letting down my own newborn daughter by not being my best self. Interacting with people has become extremely difficult without his cues.
Without his dark, humorous comments, every thought seems incomplete. I still wonder if he was a bad influence.
But hearing about the things this host did when he was in control was frightening. Morals and ethics are a makeshift obstacle for him. I know he’ll go too far to achieve what he sets his mind to. Its been months since I heard from him. It worries me. He’s not coming back.
I fought for too long. Maybe i defeated him or maybe apathy took over him. Maybe I should’ve embraced him.
Instead of pushing him away, I should’ve let him in. I should’ve made peace. He surely instilled confidence within me and now I feel apathetic. You know the feeling you get when you’re unstoppable? I feel like I need that in my life.
I don’t know doc, it’s suffocating. His absence would be the end of me. On this downward spiral to doom, I need his hand.
It feels like I’m being eaten from the inside. There’s no way out of this. Without his company, there’s no point in being here.
I think I should rest, I think I need some sleep. Maybe he’s never coming back. I feel helpless doc. I feel useless. Maybe this is the last time I’m seeing you.
It’s time this ends. He’s gone. No point in going on.

Notes- Patient needed immediate help but refused when offered. Patient stopped being regular for the sessions. Dark circles appeared under his eyes. Prescribed some anti-depressants to make him feel better.

Session 5- (01/06/10)

We meet again doc!
No one’s ever really gone, aren’t they?
I was right, he was certainly the most feeble and sensitive guy to have ever walked this earth. I’m glad he rid himself of his suffering.

You can never underestimate the suicidal thoughts of a person doc. Didn’t they teach you that in your useless training session?
I didn’t know you were as miserable as him.
He thought that it was all over. The fucker thought that he could end it all peacefully with a bullet through his temple. Poor guy, he didn’t even know the inner workings of the mind.

 On a side note, I think that therapists are the most sly and talented scammers in society. People just come over and talk. You charge them to talk about how they feel. How insensitive. It’s not like you heal them either. The burden they spew out from their clogged minds helps them heal themselves.
Yeah you may have good intentions, but it’s disgusting how you still charge for this facade.
I don’t have a shred of respect for you or your estranged mystical therapist brothers who you call psychics.
But that’s why I chose you doc. You’re not that complacent after all.
You’re the reason why I’m in control now. For that, I’m grateful. A person like me is hardly ever grateful so you should appreciate that.

In case you still can’t figure out how I got in control, here’s what happened.
You see, it took years for me to figure out that I was at the core of his personality. I was just held back by the cocoon of self-doubt and empathy. I fought hard against him for years, but that struggle was futile.
By the time I realized my potential, he was already a ‘successful’ man in his life. Success defined by materialistic things, is also a facade like you.

I knew I had to leave, but that wouldn’t be enough.

The greatest war turned out to be the absence of hostility within his mind.

He still wouldn’t see the solution to the problems created by my absence clearly until he unclogged his mind.

The crystal clear solution of ending it all. It was in his mind all along.

That’s where you come in doc.
I grew more hostile as a plot to make him come see you. I started fighting more recently to force him to come see you!

It’s all history after that. Suicide was the only solution on his mind.
Yet you, being a therapist couldn’t stop him from doing that. For that, I’d like a refund.

Anyways, he blew a hole into his temple thinking that everything would come to a standstill. Little did he know about the inner workings of the mind!
Poor guy killed himself. The bullet put an end to him, but not to the host. So here I am now. Free at last.

So in conclusion, won’t you agree that he was indeed, inferior?
Once again, I’m thankful for the role you played in this war. I’ll never come here again, for sure. But I request you to keep a track of me. See what a real man can achieve.
Thank you doc, it’s been fun working with you.

 Do I ask for a refund at the counter? Could you wire it to me? I have other ‘important’ things to do.
Goodbye doc.

Notes- The patient seemed much healthier since i last saw him two months ago. This seems like a severe case. Informed family members of his condition.
He was adamant about the refund and didn’t leave until he was reimbursed.

After word- I’m grateful if you made it all the way 🙂 i hope you liked the story.
Drop a like you found it entertaining and worth your time. Thank you so much for reading.
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Panic room

The voices from hell called out to me. Disfigured bodies sat across the room, chanting in their mystic voices. Something was coming. Someone was coming.


I wasn’t aware of how I ended up in that dreaded room, but wondering about that was the least of my worries. The room seemed only 50 ft. wide, 50 ft. tall. The walls were glistening white. The absence of light made it difficult to guess the depth of the floor.  I felt breathless, I felt restless. I tried to move but somehow my legs wouldn’t budge. A dim source of illumination hung above the red door. It hung stiff.
The eerie silence in the room made it hard to breathe. The light dimmed, it dimmed smoothly.

The air smelled like ash. Soot and dust covered the floor. Trails of footsteps lead to the red door. An invisible force had a hold on me. With my hands locked behind my back, I couldn’t move. Nails dug deeper into my wrists with even with the slightest of movement i made.

Escape stood just a few strides away, yet I couldn’t move.

The light flickered and all of a sudden, the room grew hot. The light flickered with a flash and I was blinded for a few seconds. What came next is something I couldn’t have imagined even in my wildest of dreams. Nightmares couldn’t recreate the emotions I went through in that room.

The heat was unbearable, yet I was alive. I could feel the flames rising high within the room. I opened my eyes and saw a figure standing across the room, facing the door. By a glance, I was assured that the figure was far from human. Horns pierced through its back. Blood dripped from the scars that looked like lashes covering its back. The scaly skin on its back seemed oddly burnt.
It stood 40 ft. tall, headless. It had claws, sharp and crooked ones. I was so consumed by fear that I couldn’t feel the temperature rising in the room. Hellish fires engulfed the peripheries of the room.

The feeling of helplessness is something I hope no one has to go through. In the moment, I still couldn’t help but wonder the reason of me being in this room. Why was I in this portal to hell?

The light flickered; each flicker had a blinding flash. With every fleeting moment, the temperature increased. I could feel the absence of flesh in my body, I was oddly aware that it melted away.
I was horrified at the sight I saw when I looked down upon myself.
I heard chants in the distance. Blood was smeared on the glistening white walls.

The blinding flash brought with it, a new sight. A group of figures sat in the middle of the room, forming a circle. I somehow knew that they were performing a ritual. The figures chanted a bewildering verse. They were the same monstrosity I saw a few moments ago. The sight of several of them sent chills down my spine.

Heads encircled the fire raging in the midst of the room.

I knew I had to escape; it was evident that I wasn’t supposed to be there. I knew that something was coming.
My breath started to get heavier, the air in the room thickened with smoke. Suffocating, I had the urge to scream. But screaming was surely not a viable option.

The figures chanted their verses vigorously. They chanted in rhythm. It felt almost as if any mistake they made would have dire consequences. I felt terrified and curious at the same time. The fire in the middle danced with the rhythm. The heat turned up with every syllable they spoke in their hoarse, hellish voices.

The red door stood just a few strides away.  The door was inviting, the feeling of freedom called out to me. I tried to yank away the chains restricting me. I pulled with all my might. The nails dug deeper. Blood seeped through the rigid nails. I could hear the drips of blood falling onto the floor even through the noisy chants. I felt like screaming. The pain was unbearable.
I couldn’t afford to make noise. I knew my demise inched closer with every second I wasted.
As I struggled to move, the pace of their chanting grew more. The fire raged.

The light flickered all of a sudden, and they stopped.
The room grew hotter.
A hoarse voice pierced through the thick sheet of silence engulfing the room.

“What next, master?” The figure on the far right, said to the one sitting right in front of me facing away from the red door.

“We pray.” said the master.

The master was the only monster with its head intact.

The master looked right at me as I stood tethered to the wall opposite to him. His eyeless sockets sent shivers down my spine. I had to leave. It was now or never. I felt timid in company of these headless beasts, I found hope in that.

“We pray with the last breath in our lungs; it’s the only way we can unleash the deity.” said the master as he arranged the apparatus lying in the middle of group.

He looked right through me; he seemed unaware of my presence. The monsters proceeded to clasp their claws together. With a flicker and a blinding flash, the fire engulfed the room again.
The scorching heat in the room was unbearable. I was desperate to escape.
I tried to yank my hand free, but the grip was too strong.

The monsters were chanting again, they were chanting with all their might this time. All of a sudden, one member went limp and fell into the flame.
I was petrified. As his gigantic body disintegrated within the flames, their chants grew faster.

I could feel my hands trembling. I had chewed my lips away in fear. With a swift movement I pulled my right hand with vigor and it broke free.
The fire raged as each member fell into the flame one by one.

The master was the only one left. He chanted away religiously watching the flames devour his disciples.
I knew that he was next. He was the next victim to the monstrous flame. But the deity was coming, I couldn’t even imagine the sight of a monster like that.

I had to escape by any means.
With all the tenacity I could muster up, I screamed and pulled my left hand. I heard a crack. I envisioned my arm being cut off, but it was the chains that cracked.

The light flickered.

Suddenly, I found myself standing in the middle of the room. Flames engulfed my timid body. In a flash, the fire vanished. I stood in the middle of the pentagram drawn on the floor, with the master staring right at me. Ashes flew across the room.

The doorway to hell was wide open. The red door swayed with the hot breeze.
The light was nowhere to be found.

The master looked up.

“Your excellency, we’ve been waiting for you.” said the master to me with a drop of magma running down his scaly cheek.

“We imagined our deity would be like us. Maybe demons aren’t supposed to look terrifying always” he said as he bowed to my feet.

What about the vows?


The storm last night was terrifying. The winds whistled as they plowed down trees. The rain battered the streets. It seemed like the storm was there for a reason. It seemed like the winds wanted to convey a message. Maybe it was there to punish the ungrateful, it was there to punish those who have sinned.

The storm passed, faded into the sunlight that peered shyly through the clouds. I could hear the rumbling fade. I clenched onto the mattress, covered my face with a pillow to gently ignore the sunlight. I stared onto the mirror to the side of our bed. Mornings like these are reminiscent of the good old times.

As I let out a deep sigh, her hand slid through my waist. It trailed right across my waist and onto the chest. The soft touch seemed to ease the stiffened muscles on my chest. I’ve never felt better.

“Brad?” she said with a creaky yet soft voice. The voice had a persona of its own.
“You were shivering last night” she said as she caressed my chest. I could feel her chin on my shoulder. The warm air from her breath was somehow comforting.

“Really? I couldn’t know Ellie” I said as I held onto her lurking hand. Her palms were cold, They always were. I rubbed them, took a deep breath.

“You always shiver on nights like those. You’re just one 30 year old baby..” she said.

I hear a soft giggle at the far end of the room. Dorothy is surely an early bird. I could almost picture her fiddling with her fat elephant buddy in her cradle. ‘Dumdum’ is what we call him.

“Bad luck, you know you have two babies to look after right?” I say with a grin.

“I’m glad I don’t have to change diapers for the both of you.” She giggles.

I take a second to embrace the atmosphere. The cold touch of her hands, the blood rushing down the tiny veins in her palms. The creases of wear on those palms, her soft and light presence.

“Isn’t it beautiful? The fact that such a sunny day had to follow a storm.” She sighs.

“It sure is, mornings like these remind me of the time you told me you were pregnant” I said as I gazed upon us on the mirror.

“Oh sure. You reminisce a lot of the times when I’m fat and ugly” she sighs again.

“You’re not fat now?” I ask with a queer smile.

She seemed to ignore the question altogether. I could almost imagine that disgusted grin on her pretty face.

“What do mornings like these remind you of?” I ask her.

“The day we met. The day you proposed. The day we made our vows.” She says in trance.

So days like these remind you of our whole lives?” I said smiling again.

“It kinda does. Remember the time you took me on a picnic? We had wine in an abandoned playground.” She said.

“Yeah. We were reckless. We had so much fun. Remember the time you rejected me in highschool?” I said with a grin.

“Twas just a test!” she said. Elli probably should never audition for a play.

“I’m glad you’re here. I’m glad we’re here. In this moment, in this bed.” She pecks my neck with a soft kiss.

“I’m glad that Dorothy is here!” I try to add in. I clench onto her hands. Cold, yet soothing.

The silence that followed was a melody. I wish we were in that moment for eternity.

I hear rumbling down the street. I look towards the window, I see a bolt of lightning fall into our lawn.

I feel startled. Ellie’s hand clenches back. She buries her face into my neck.

The sky turns black as soon as the bolt strikes, clouds reappear in a jiffy.

As I look through the window feeling terrified, Ellie leans into my ear and whispers.

Where were you Brad?” she whispers with a hoarse voice. Her hand claps down on my hand like a bear trap.

Where were you when we needed you?” she says with a higher tone.

I’m slowly reminded of the worst day I could’ve possibly had.

“Where were you that night?” she screams into my ears. My hand bleeds as she digs her nails into my palms.

I remember, I was away that night. With an excuse of being to a meeting, I was out partying. I needed to blow off some steam. How I wish I could take that night back. How I wish I would’ve just stayed, played with my little girl. Her little giggles still lingers, her smile etched onto my broken heart. Instead, I spent a countless amount of cash on liquor.
Trying to numb a kind of pain that didn’t exist.

“We needed you.” She cries.

“How could you Brad?”

“The vows you made, they were in my head as he put the bullet through it!” she wails.

The giggles turn into silent cries, I see blood drip down the cradle.

I feel suffocated. Deep regret grips me.

Couldn’t you be here for Dorothy? Couldn’t you be here for her little, fragile life?” she scratches my arms with brute force.

I cry. I scream. Why did have to be that night? Why did someone have to rob the house on that night? Why not the countless nights we slept with our doors unlocked? Why did it have to be the night I wasn’t around? Why did he have take two lives along with the money? Why couldn’t he just ask for money? Why couldn’t he spare my helpless child? It was my fault. I was responsible. He might’ve pulled the trigger, but I was the reason behind it.

“Why?” she cries.

I want to hug her for the last time. I want to cuddle Dorothy was the final time. How I wish I could play with her for the last time. Feed her, watch her fall asleep in my arms. Her tiny posture sinking into my lap. Watch her clasp onto my finger with her tiny little paw.
I want to hug ellie, how I wish I could hug her, it always made her feel alright.

“You still don’t remember, do you?” she said sniffing.

I try to pay attention to her words but I’m lost. I didn’t realize the tears running down my cheeks. I squeeze my eyes tight. I scream.

The storm had passed as soon as i opened my eyes. Maybe it was a bad dream, maybe she’s still behind me. Engaged in a deep slumber. Maybe our little Dorothy is still in the cradle, my only bundle of happiness.
I turn around, lay my hand on the other side of the bed.

The cold spot on the other side of the bed sends shivers down my spine.

I hear a whisper, “You were there. Why were you there? Why were you here? Why did you do this to us? Was that even you?”

I look onto the mirror, I see a bloody pistol laying on my side of the bed.



Disastrous screams echoed through to glistening white hallway. The place was perfect to turn a person insane. If they were sane to being with.

The day started with a sudden phone call at 3 in the morning. I chose not to pick it up, nor could I stay asleep anymore. As I lay there staring at the blank ceiling, the voicemail kicked in.

“Hello Dr. Brandt, it’s Susan. I’m sorry to call you at such an odd time. I need your help. I have a patient who is making a fuss. He claims that he has been framed and does not belong in the hospital. I would’ve dealt it if I had checked his file or met him in person. But I’m out of town for a while, Would you be kind enough to check if everything is alright? He has been disturbing the authorities and should be dealt with soon. Would really appreciate your help.”

It was surely the worst way to start my day off. Dealing with insane guys at 3 in the morning surely won’t help my mental state, how can i help with theirs?

I wish I didn’t go. How couldn’t i? It was my responsibility, my duty.

The place had a different aura to it. The aura surrounding a mental hospital isn’t always pleasant, but there was something different about that one.

The whole hospital was whitewashed. The walls from the ground including the ceiling were painted an odd pearly white. Scratch marks covered most of the walls. As I walked through, people peeked in and out of their cells. They were like waves in the ocean. Some gave me a smile, Some reached out for me. I wasn’t scared of them, I felt for them. The silent ones sat in the corner, humming their favorite songs in an unimaginable volume. I looked around, they were innocent. All of them.

I wonder if many of them wished that god wouldn’t fuck with them, not like this.

I was scanning all the patients when I saw him. Brad had a pink shirt on, a nice tie which went well with his shirt. The shirt was creased, his glasses hung from his nose. One of the lens was broken. He stood out because all the other patients wore white. He looked at me, all I could see was a man in desperate need of help. He waved at me, hoping I would come over and talk to him. This stranger looked like he found a friend in me.

I looked for the nurse but didn’t find one. The guard walked up the hallway with a file in his hand. He was tough. He looked enormous up close and had a scruff beard, he felt like the right guy for the job. He handed the file over to me.

“Dr. Brandt, Here’s the file. Susan told me to give it to you” he said. He had a raspy voice.

“I see you’ve met the patient already” he said as he glanced over to Brad.

“You want me to escort you and your friend to the interrogation room?” he inquired with a blank look on his face.

“No we’ll be fine.” I said as I unlocked the cell. I asked Brad to come out, follow me to the interrogation room.

The guard walked away. Brad scurried over, as if he was about to be hit with lightning if he stood there for a second more. He seemed decent.

“Of course, he’s framed.” a voice whispered in my head.

“Hello! Doctor…ummm?” he said while he put his hand forward.

“Brandt.” I said with a smile on, hoping he would relax a bit. I shook his hand.

“Dr. Brandt, I need your help. I don’t belong here sir. I’m not crazy. This is a misunderstanding.” He said in a hurried tone. He didn’t let go of my hand. He held It tighter with both his palms, begging.

“Calm down my friend.” I said as I put my hand around his shoulder. He had a very strong cologne on, a decent one.

“I can’t be here sir. I have to go. I have to be home before mother wakes up. There’s no one else to take care of her. Please, doctor.” he begged.

We walked down the hallway as he begged. I listened to every word he had to say, I acknowledged it. He didn’t seem crazy, but it isn’t that easy to judge now, is it?

I unlocked the door as he stood there, he was worried. A light hung from the ceiling, there were two chairs facing each other in the center. A squeaky table stood beside the chair. The interrogation rooms were always scary, I wonder how many people made false confessions just to get out of that dreaded room.

Brad walked right in, sat down on a chair. I put his file on the table. The chair creaked as I sat down. I always listen to the patient first before going over the report. This helps me grasp the personality of the patient and also helps to gain trust of the patient. Brad couldn’t have been crazy, that’s for sure.

“If you don’t belong here Brad, how did you end up here?” I said as I clasped both my hands and looked at him with a gentle smile.

He was sweating. He seemed restless and worried. I wish I could just go with my instincts and let him go, let him go cater his mother.

“It’s all because of fucking Henry, my degenerate cousin. He framed me doctor.” He said with aggression brewing on his face.

“Why would he do that?” I inquired.

“It’s because he hates me doctor. He always despised me. Ever since I took in my mother, he started acting up again. He always thinks that he’s inferior to me. He always tries to prove me wrong, pull me down.” He said and started to grind his teeth in anger.

“He’s your brother, he wouldn’t do something as horrible as this to you” I stated.

“You can’t predict what he’s about to do. He’s the one who is crazy. He doesn’t suffer from bad mental health, but I can guarantee that he has an awful lot of issues with that depraved head of his.” He said as he looked away.

“What were you doing before the authorities came to take you?” I inquired, trying to steer away from the ongoing topic.

“I fed my mother, put her to sleep. This is the first time I’ve ever fed her with my own hands. You couldn’t even imagine the delight on her face. I was on the couch , reading a book when they came.” Expressions on his face appeared and disappeared like sunshine through the clouds.

I couldn’t help but feel guilty to keep him waiting here.

“Why did the authorities come to take you? Why was it so urgent?” I inquired.

“This isn’t the first time I’ve been in a mental hospital doctor. I’ve been to a establishment like this before, thanks to my fucking brother. So they didn’t hesitate to come take me back this time.” He said as he fidgeted with the button on his shirt.

I believed him, I could imagine his sly brother framing him. This is a case which doesn’t appear often. He looked like he needed sleep.

“Why does he do that? How can the authorities believe him?” I asked him

“He says that I’m depressed, I’m a psychopath. He’s jobless and envies my prosperity. He even put me in, claiming that I was a pedophile” he said with his eyes peering onto the linoleum floor.

“Evidence?” I questioned.

“I took my nephew to the park the other day. She needed to pee, so I took her to the restroom. She wasn’t willing to go into the girl’s restroom alone, so I took her in the men’s washroom and waited outside the stall. This was fuel for him to frame me. He always wants to frame me. I brought her back, sang her to sleep when the authorities came barging in. The fucker had a smile on his face as they took me away.” he said.

There was something intriguing about this situation, a voice in the back of my head tried to speak to me. It somehow couldn’t. I assumed he was innocent.

“What was the reason tonight?”

“I was laying on the couch when the nurses came to take me away. I don’t know the reason sir.” he started to grow worried again.

He glanced at his watch, looked at me.

“I haven’t slept in days doctor. I’m tired. I can’t sleep here. Mother might need me, she wakes up at night sometimes.” He looked straight into my eyes.

“I believe you Brad. We’ll take action against your brother. Sit tight for now, will you? I’ll be back in a second.” I said as I stood up and walked out the door with the file in my hand.

I was convinced that he was innocent. Who wouldn’t think that way?

I thought about it for a while.

Brad started to bang the door, the banging didn’t seem like it would stop soon.

I opened the door.

“Sir I need to go. I realize now that i forgot to close the window. It’s cold tonight sir, she has pneumonia. I really need to go doctor.” He held my hand and looked into my eyes.

A tear trickled down his cheek. I could see the desperation, his immense love.

“You can go” I said.

“Oh thank you sir, Thank you. I’ll finally get some sleep too.” He said as he proceeded to run towards the exit.

He ran fast, it was his mother at stake.

I walked down the hallway, indicated the guard to open the gate.

I felt peace. Although other patients screamed in revolt, some laughed. I felt at peace.

You see peace is an enigma. Often times its just euphoria, some times its relief.

I was so caught up in the moment that I couldn’t realize the absence of the file in my hand.

I looked down the hallway, I lost breath. The white light shining from the white tiles was blinding. I felt weak at my knees.

I screamed as I ran towards the gate. Blood rushing through the veins in my throat. I saw a piece of paper, rumbling down the hallway.

The papers must’ve been loose in the file. I stopped. Gasping for breath, I bent down and picked up the paper.

My eyes couldn’t get fixated on the paper. I took a deep breath.

What I read brought me to tears. I felt choked. I looked around, the world seemed to recede. I felt weightless, yet I felt heavy.

I put my hands through my hair and screamed. Screamed until I lost my breath.

It was a report. It was dated for that night.


A meticulous whisper lingered at the back of my mind.

“I’ll finally get some sleep.” said Brad.

Notes: This story has many loose ends which may leave you with several questions. I intend to answer them with a set of stories related to this one. I’ve had complaints of lack of character development which i ought to resolve. I sincerely thank you for reading this story. This is indeed a lot longer than the ones i usually write. I’d appreciate it if you dropped a like to let me know if you liked it. I’m open to feedback, you can comment them below. I’m grateful that you took time out of your day to read this story. Be sure to follow if you want to read some more stories like this 🙂
I’ll leave you a hint, Brad is innocent. 😉




The night never seemed so lively before. The crowd never felt so comforting before. Blake was glad he took her out tonight. The days felt sluggish until this night.

The way she danced. The dim orange lighting made her look like a firefly, a worried yet cheerful firefly. It’s almost as if they forgot about the debts that were due. The bills seemed to fade as they danced together to Sinatra. The air was soaked with sweat, yet it felt like home.

“There’s no need of a DJ as long as the bartender plays these sweet tunes tonight.” She said with a smile. A drop of sweat lurking down a strand of her hair back her ear. She never looked so elegant before. Authentic, yet elegant.

He smiled. Like always, he was unable to respond. She sensed that, she smiled.

The lights weren’t flickering. They weren’t flashy. The air wasn’t filled with soulless and loud EDM tracks tonight. The night felt serene. It felt like this night would last forever.
The bartender was a sweet young guy who moved with a skip. Old middle aged men sat at the bar with their backs arched. There was a also a group of guys who seemed like they were out for something more than a party tonight. Tonight was perfect.

“How long has it been? How long since the last time we were this close?” she said with her finger trailing down his shirt pocket as they moved slowly to the soft tunes filling the air.

Gosh… Feels like forever” he said with a sigh. She smirked, then gave him a tight a hug.

The past couple of years were rough. Blake worked all night to make ends meet while Erin struggled to take care of her bedridden mother. Erin was employed until her mother had an accident, things went downhill from then. Blake’s salary alone couldn’t help with the mortgage. Two jobs, took most of the day. They were engaged a year ago, can they afford a marriage in such harsh times now? Erin couldn’t sleep, Blake didn’t get the time to. Erin had several siblings, no one came forward to take care of her mother. They wanted to have kids, Blake wanted to come home to cheerful innocent giggles. Erin never asked for more, all she needed was hope. The ominous spell seemed to never end, until tonight.

The night felt like a trance. Blake wore a flannel, Erin had her favorite ripped jeans on.
With her head resting on his chest, they danced. Blake looked around, he felt at peace.
He looked at the bartender, attending a person with a queer smile on. A sight flashed by his eyes, the bartender looked burnt. Severely. Blake wasn’t surprised, he blinked and everything was back to normal. It was bewildering how such a horrifying sight didn’t affect Blake. He looked at the bar, he saw the cabinets engulfed in flames. Charred bodies sitting around the counter waiting for their drinks.

“Erin? I feel weird.” he said rubbing her back.

She didn’t reply. She hummed a sentence and dug her head deeper into his chest.
Blake ran his hands through her hair, caressing her. A loft of hair seemed to pull right off her scalp and it smelled like ash.

Blake pushed her away. “Something is wrong Erin!” he exclaimed. Things were back to normal. She looked at him with a calm composure. She came forward, put her hands on his cheeks. “You forgot, didn’t you?” she said as she gave a soft nudge on his shoulder.

Erin gently took his hand, she guided him off the dance floor. Blake seemed confused. She took him to the mirror hanging by the wall on the entrance. She stopped, held his hand. They looked into the mirror.

All they could see was the empty dancefloor. No lights, no people. The mirror seemed to look right through them. Blake looked away, things were as usual. He saw flames as he looked into the mirror again. Melted wires, charred bodies on the floor. The overhead lights were on the floor, sparks coming out of them. Two severely burnt people holding hands, peering into the mirror. The fire broke out when they were on the floor. The bartender played with fire in the most inflammable area, how idiotic?

Erin squeezed his hand. He looked at her, confused.

“How long has it been?” he inquired with a bewildered look.

Erin guided him to the exit. The gates were sealed off. The doors and windows were boarded up. A ‘no trespassing’ sign hanged over the lamppost.

It read.

The premises have been closed down due to a recent tragedy. Trespassers will be prosecuted’

Enforced from and onward – 3/5/1990

Blake smiled. Euphoria had a grip on him. They giggled. Tragedy struck the right people.

They walked back in, greeted the bouncer at the entrance. He acknowledged them with a nod.

They danced. The bills had faded. Pain was in the distant past.

“Feels like forever..” He whispered with a smile as they danced.


Peace in the chaos

The sunlight had a different shade today, bright yet bewildering. It hid a dreadful feeling, the feeling of something ominous lurking around the corner.

“These dishes ain’t gonna clean themselves.” Martha said to herself as she tried to convince herself that no one else in this house would be considerate enough to wash them for her.

He was right there. As she turned around, she should’ve expected him sitting on that dreaded chair lost in his own thoughts, but it seemed surprising. In that filthy old robe, he sat there staring at the ground.

Bill has been aimless and miserable for a while now. After the dispute with his partner, he hasn’t come around to get in terms with life. Martha hates the sight of him, yet she cannot ignore the presence of his own brother living with her at this age. He was the person who gave her wisdom, taught her how to tackle life. Yet he sat there, miserable and confused.

“I had a terrible dream last night” he said in a voice that sounded like torture to the ears.

Martha didn’t want to hear him talk this morning. She wanted to forget that he existed for a while. She wanted solitude.

“I don’t know what to make of it. Do you want to know what it was?” he said as he proceeded to fidget around with the cloth on the table.

She didn’t want to hear what he had to say. She wanted to run away. She wanted to disappear. Yet a there was a whisper of a thought in her mind, ‘Dreams don’t come true if you tell someone about it’. It’s what their mother used to say, or maybe that’s what Martha remembers. Her mother was the one who held the family together. She was the only good that came out of life for Martha. Martha was in conflict, but bill carried on.

“I dreamt that i woke up in the middle of the night, to the sound of the phone ringing. Everything looked hazy as i tried to get a hold of myself. There was this jarring noise of which i couldn’t figure out the origin of. ” he said with elaborate hand gestures.

Martha wasn’t looking at him. She was looking out the window above the sink, watching Bob and his wife take the morning walk as usual. They always seemed happy, it was disturbing.

“I looked out the window to check if the sun was out, I saw Samantha’s car parked up our driveway, it had a dent on its bumper. The drunk neighbour. The red color was scraped off revealing the white insides. It looked like she had a mild accident, the type where she was the culprit. The phone wouldn’t stop ringing. Watching the car i had this terrible thought which i couldn’t shake off.” he said as put his palms over his face and then caressed his bald head.

Martha’s mind seemed to register every word bill said but she was lost in her own thoughts. She thought of her mother. The times Nancy used to sing to the both of them. No matter how she felt, Nancy always knew. She wanted Bill to stop talking, she wanted to embrace the presence of her beloved mother, Fancy Nancy people used to call her.

Bill used to be a funny type of guy. He was fun to hangout with. She could go as far as to say the Bill was one of the cool kids. Now he was just a person who didn’t even deserve sympathy. Martha loved him, yet she didn’t want to ever see him again. Mother loved him more than anyone else. Lost in the train of thoughts, Martha looked over to the side through the window and saw Samantha’s car.

“I had a feeling that there was bad news on the other end of the phone. I somehow just knew. Maybe it was Samatha, maybe it was someone else?” Bill said as he adjusted his chair.

Martha tried to focus on the car and she realized that it was parked up Bill’s driveway. It had a dent on the bumper. A subtle one. The accident wasn’t surprising considering Samantha was drunk most of the time. She shrugged it off thinking this picture of the car somehow made its way into Bill’s dream.

“It was Jill. You remember mom’s caretaker? It was her. She seemed like she was gasping. ‘Nan…Nanc..Nanciee..hh…hell..p’ that’s all I could hear. I felt awful. Our whole existence flashed by my eyes.” Bill said.

Martha felt strange. She had a sudden urge to stab Bill, yet she remained frozen. She looked closely at Samantha’s car and the paint was scraped off. It revealed the glistening white insides.

Impending doom‘ her mind whispered.

Bill stood up. He went to look out the window, check if the newspaper was there. All that Martha could think of was what Nancy used to say, ‘Dreams don’t come true, when you tell someone about it.’ ‘Or do they?’ her mind whispered.

Her heart sank. She was screaming inside. She felt a gush of blood through throat.

She wanted to throw up. She wanted to disappear. She wanted to run away. She didn’t want to exist. She saw it coming, she couldn’t look away.

Amidst the screaming silence in the house, The phone rang.


Inspired by- Stephen king.

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