The Being
Your heart is pounding. You can feel the danger in the room with every fiber of your being. The hairs on your neck are standing straight up, your breath is hard to control.
The walls are pulsing. Beads of water race down the concrete slabs, resembling sweat. A single light bulb is flickering. Each time it goes out, the shadow of a being is revealed You hear its footsteps, wet and racing. It’s creeping around the room.
Around you.
Faces emerge and disappear as if they were waves in the ceiling. All screaming, all at different times. They have no features, just open mouths that look as though they’re fighting their way through.
The floor shifts, causing you to fall. Pain travels through your body, first at your hip, then to your shoulders. The shadow runs at you. You hear the water splashing as it stomps in your direction. The warmth radiates off of it, you feel a slight tickle of hair and then the light flickers back on.
It vanished.
The faces are still fighting their way through, screaming all the while. It never ends. You have to find a way out, but how? The light goes out again, the sound of the being walking returns amongst the cries and your pounding heart. You can’t get up, you’re stuck.
“Grey walls,” you shakily whisper.
The screaming quiets, but only some. The splashing of the being’s footsteps pick up speed again, racing towards you. Does it have four legs, or two? You can’t tell. It crashes into you, running right over your body. The walls continue to pulse, seeming to close in on you.
“A small window,” you notice above you. Light trickles in and you notice there’s no sunshine, but grey skies coming through.
“Clouds.”
The light comes back on. The dripping of water from the walls intensifies, you realize it’s pouring in from outside. “Rain.”
The light begins to flicker again, this time more rapidly. You notice the being is much smaller than you saw before. “Dog. My dog!”
You feel yourself begin to pull through.
“Cold.” You notice the sensation in the water that now surrounds you, in the air you’re gasping in.
The screams intensify again but the faces are fading. The walls continue to pulse, growing and shrinking with every breath you take. You lift a hand and you feel the being approach you again.
“Fur.” Yes, this is your dog. It now sits next to you as you lie on the ground. You can feel the wet, thick wool of the old husky you know and love, the sweet little shit that knocked you over in excitement.
The screaming continues.
You place your other hand on the ground next to you. “Wet.” Are you outside? You run your fingers through the shallow pull of water that you’ve fallen into and then place your palm flat. “Concrete.” Yes, outside.
“Rain.” You can hear it more clearly now, the pitter-patter of it hitting the walls, the cold floor, and you.
The window begins to grow. Suddenly you realize there was never a window at all. It’s the sky, encased in wood almost like a picture in a frame.
“Panting.” Your dog hasn’t left your side. You’re still holding him. He’s more clear now, his dumb eyes looking at you with his tongue sticking out. He’s breathing heavily.
A massive eruption emits from the clouds above. You see the light flicker again, but this time you notice it’s lightening. “Thunder.”
You take a deep breath in through your nose. The screaming is dull now. The walls you’re surrounded by are no longer pulsing, but still dripping with water. You see that they’re not walls at all, but more like supports.
“Trees.” Yes, you can smell them clear as day. You’re in a park. You were on a walk.
You prop yourself up on your elbow. Your dog looks you in the eyes and huffs in your face.
“Breath.” You say, disgusted. Why do dogs smell like that?
You look around, taking in your new environment. Reality. You’re in a pergola in the woods, put up by the Boy Scouts and surrounded by beautiful flowers.
“Blood.” You can taste the iron in your mouth. You must have bit your tongue when you were knocked over.
Your heart rate returns to a safer rhythm. You were on a walk, and it happened. You were alone and you got yourself through it.
That’s a first.