It

It is one cold Monday night. As the pitch black darkness shrouds the gray earth outside, I am alone inside my house, vegetating in the comfort of my room, reading a good book, Memnoch the Devil. My favorite. There are many books in our shelf. Some even older than me. I even found one titled “The Language of Letting Go”. I find this crappy. Who cares about someone letting go someone? It’s already the dilemma of the possessive and the problem of the apathetic. Not mine.

My love for the dark and the unknown has always been unquenched, and this book is just the right stuff for that thirst.

But the dead silence of the night and the cold November wind is too strong. Sleepiness attacked me. And so I began my trip to the Land of Nod.

But suddenly the phone broke the tranquillity of my mortal pre-slumber. Alarmed and disturbed, I managed to pick it up and say the usual “hello”.

There is no answer.

I realized it’s already two in the morning. The pranksters must be starting their silly modus operandi. So I decided to go back to bed.

But even before I hit another sleep, the phone rang irritatingly again. So again, I answered.

“Hello?”

The line crackled, and produced some weird noise. An otherworldly sound. I recognized it’s a “hello”. It sounds as if I’m talking to a walkie-talkie, or a transistor radio. But whatever it is, the voice was familiar. Eerily familiar. I don’t want to think it that way, but I can’t be wrong. Chill starts to crawl up my spine.

It's that Thing again.

In a desperate attempt, I resort to hide my self in to some other identity. I changed my voice. Sounding braver.

“Hello?”

Then it hung up. It knows I’m here.

I can’t move. Fear strikes me. I must get out of this house. Go somewhere else. To my friend perhaps. That Thing is only somewhere else, or more proximal than I think. And it will wreck its way here in my domicile before I knew it. And when that happens, I can’t imagine what will happen next.

I dressed in thick clothes, and left. I hit the dark and murky road, praying that I will not crossed roads with it. Or any of its shadows.

Finally, I reached my friend’s abode. I open the gates (I unnoticeably left it opened), run the yard, and ring the doorbell.

Strangely and unfortunately, no one’s answering.

The house is empty. No one’s home.


Then I heard a metallic shrill behind me. Someone’s opening the gates wider. The thing tracked me there. Realizing my fate, I closed my eyes.


“This is unexpected”. A familiar voice spoke.


I turned on to see that is. It is my friend. He went out to buy some cigarettes.


“So. She’s still bothering you, right?”


I just smiled, realizing I am safe, at least now. But he’s right. There’s no worse than running away from an ex-girlfriend. She’s possessive, selfish, and adamant. I am, on the other hand, apathetic, indifferent, and lethargic. These combined, all hell will break loose. Worse than any nightmare anyone could think of. Letting go isn’t just anyone’s problem. It’s my problem.

It is one cold Monday night. As the pitch black darkness shrouds the gray earth outside, I am at my friend’s house. Cold. Trembling. Safe. But only for now.

Tomorrow, or in the days to follow, the haunting starts anew.







If you liked this article, check out Stargazers Under The Starless Skies for more about threading the night. And speaking of the night, find out why Batman is awesome on Only Human.