Scotomatisation (544 hits)
Category: GeneralRating: 1.55 on 11 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by The Yellow Dart (View user info) at 2007-09-20 13:58:46 EDT
Head on a swivel, blink at the ready, eye only see what eye want to. The persistent lights that penetrate through your eyelids will not disappear easily. Not when your mind knows they're still there; that they can still be seen.
So look away. Turn your thoughts to the electric hum of the plugged-in alarm clock across the room. Not a creature was stirring (just the appliances) at four in the morning. You won't stir, you know better. You should be sleeping. Concentrate on that, will you?
Lying in a foetal position, facing the wall, eyes shut, if it weren't so hot you'd have the covers over your head too (goddamn you need to get some curtains); none of it helps, it's within you, at your very core, this perpetual inability to let go. Restless nights come easily to someone so stubborn. Just ease your mind, think of something else...
The shadows from swaying branches, passing cars and prudent street lamps dance across your wall. Go to sleep.
Who can sleep when something is gnawing on your door, trying to get in to maul you? Of course this is all in your head and nothing is wrong. You're making this all up and everything is completely in your hands; so why doesn't anything change? This must be what you want.
To have that uncomfortable layer of sweat slowly make its way over every inch of you. The terrifying fear of nothing causes in you an unbearable urge to just turn on every light in the place. But it's up to you, really.
You get out of bed, determined to do something about this.
Grabbing a large sheet to cover the window, you stretch it out in front of you so you won't have to look out the window when you pin it up. There, that'll stop the shadows on the wall. And it does; only problem is that the white sheet is illuminated and projecting large images of the trees rocking in a steady, stabbing motion.
You back away from it slowly, never taking your eyes from its lure. One step too far; you're against the door now, which lets out a long and daunting creak, causing you to jump and your heart to beat much quicker.
What's going on here? You try and sleep in this same damn room every night of the year and every night turns out the same. Can't you just get used to the place? Or is it your dreams that you're afraid of? Maybe you're an insomniac. Never mind those diagnoses, you know what's wrong.
You hate the blindness that comes with shutting those eyes. What're you missing when they close?
How did you get this way? It was probably gradual like the rest of your life. You gradually grew up, gradually moved farther from home, and gradually progressed away from everything you ever learned. Here, at twenty-seven years of age, is what you've been graduating to: a sweaty, panicked, insomniac that's afraid of its shadow. The years have not been friendly to you, my friend.
A shuffling noise coming from down the hall rouses your attention once more (maybe it's ADD...). It's getting closer. Just outside your bedroom door now. You pick up the tennis racquet in the corner and place your hand on the knob. You swing the door open.
Nothing's there because you don't want anything to be there. A little scare can do a person good sometimes. Slightly relieved, you lower the racquet and stare down the dark empty hallway. It could go on forever. It probably does. This night doesn't seem to be going anywhere - you have forever to explore. So you do. Leaving this room can't be a bad thing - hard to imagine places much worse.
Your imagination's limitations don't define what's out there, though. It gets worse. After three small steps (or was it four?) you turn back to see nothing. Shit. Where did the room go? Perhaps you turned too far. You reach for the wall to no avail, cautiously, desperately searching for something familiar. Anything will do. A wall, a door, the floor - the floor? You're not falling, but there's no floor underneath you. Nothing surrounds you, and this is the most frightening thing unimaginable to you. Beyond defenseless, you can't feel a thing except the near-physical fear that consumes your thoughts. Could this be it? Are you dead? Flames and pitch-forks would be much better than this. Something over this haunting nothing that demands you perceive a looming something. That's the worst part of it. You know there's nothing there, but you refuse to accept it; there has to be something, and it's coming for you.
So you take a deep breath and try to calm down. This would have worked if you were a fan of silence. But you most certainly are not. A small whimper escapes from your lips and in an instant is creeping off into the distance, running as fast as it can from the nothing chasing it.
A faint thump soon follows and you assume it's your heart, but again you are wrong; it's got the wrong beat. Slow and steady, like a large man carrying an even larger chair, the sound hones in on you, each beat closer than the last as it draws near using the deepest audible sounds for echolocation. It finds you.
The room suddenly becomes cold and the complete darkness manages to get darker. Behind you, a familiar sound suddenly snaps some solid ground beneath you, causing your lids to open and fists to unclench. You turn and rush back into your room to turn off the alarm clock. Who set the alarm for five am?
The red glow it emits is comforting and reliable - persistently something, which is better than that nothing. So you focus on only the clock, counting down the minutes to sunrise, unaware of the darkness that has followed you, cornered you, in this small wooden bedroom.
You can feel it as smothers you, breathing coldness all over you, but you remain still and focus on the red numbers: only fifty-three minutes to go. As the number changes, something slowly enters the room.
User Reviews
Submitted by ghola (user info) at 2007-09-25 21:59:57 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
this isn't a retalitory +2.
i just wondered if i read your last post.
apparently i hadn't.
now i have.
Submitted by Merlina (user info) at 2007-09-21 01:29:01 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by DirtyHarry (user info) at 2007-09-20 15:52:35 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
Good start, but in desperate need of a rewrite.
Submitted by JonnyX (user info) at 2007-09-20 15:45:48 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
What is this, Olde Skool Week on Ubersite?
Submitted by Brdn_Nkd (user info) at 2007-09-20 15:42:46 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by TheUniter (user info) at 2007-09-20 15:35:08 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
Submitted by The_Yellow_Dart (user info) at 2007-09-20 14:21:32 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Submitted by ChaosJester (user info) at 2007-09-20 14:07:11 EDT (#)
Ranking: -1
Next time you write something, try to boil it down to half of what you wrote. It can be really hard to do, but once you accomplish it, you'll usually find that you have a much better story.
____
I was thinking I should cut this down more too. Especially the beginning. Thanks for the criticism, well taken.
Submitted by ChaosJester (user info) at 2007-09-20 14:10:50 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
Eh, maybe I was a bit harsh earlier.
Still, this isn't more than a zero to me.
Submitted by Sacrilicious (user info) at 2007-09-20 14:09:03 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I wish you'd post about 20 times more often than you do.
Submitted by ChaosJester (user info) at 2007-09-20 14:07:11 EDT (#)
Ranking: -1
Yeah...I didn't much care for this because a) it was written extremely poorly and b) you tried WAY too hard to create a haunting atmosphere.
To be perfectly frank, this bored me.
Next time you write something, try to boil it down to half of what you wrote. It can be really hard to do, but once you accomplish it, you'll usually find that you have a much better story.
Submitted by HateMudkips (user info) at 2007-09-20 14:04:31 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment