“I always have thought that dreams have a way to fight away the nightmares tucked deep inside the recesses of the mind. I never knew that it was the other way around.”
I haven’t written for a long time. Now, I write because my psychologist recommended me to do so. He said that it helps with my sleeping pattern, because considering the fact that I don’t sleep much, I also have the need to dig up graves from my past.
Becoming a prime accountant for a growing business firm gives you two things in life: Good money and a noose around your neck. You get good money because you know the ins and outs of the firm; you get a noose around your neck for the same reason. But in all honesty, I never wanted to be an accountant. People with sleezy suits and pompadour hairstyles with pleasing personalities sends shiver down my spine, simply because they think they’re all that. They’re not.
Lawyers and businessmen, the cream of the crop, the best of the best, liars among the den of liars.
I chose to be an accountant because there’s really no money to be made as a writer, which was something I aspired for during my teenage years. Hell, there’s really nothing to be had in being a writer. So instead of working hard and lose money my whole life, I decided that I would work hard and lose myself in sake of money, and now, money is all I have, nothing more, nothing else. What else anyone would want?
However, I did have a chance in becoming a writer. When I was in high school I was part of the press. I documented and reported many events unfolding in school and in our small little town. There had always been bizarre happenings in that small town of ours. After I was discovered with my writing prowess, I was then hired to make short stories in a small column of our town’s newspaper. The pay was abysmal and the demands are worse. That’s when I had realized that there is no future to be had in writing. You need to be decently talented and you need to be fully invested and that means: losing a lot before you could even get a grain of what writers really earn. Years later, a man from some company told me that I should give it a try and that he’s willing to support me, as long as I give him manuscripts. But I was well off then without my need to write. Hence the end of my writing career. Ever since then I decided that I would never write unless my life depended on it
Now, my life did depend on it.
If there’s one thing that my psychologist and I know (What a better way to spend my money than to pay someone to listen to my problems, right?) is that I have been seeing things: A man in a suit with no face nor hair, just a single eye on his face. A woman in a pink dress with once again, no face but with long and messy hair. She also had a huge gaping mouth, riddled with endless sharp and pointy teeth.
A meat grinder for a mouth.
These creatures only pop up once in a while and they never do hurt me.
I would sometime see one eye man when I walk down the street. He would simply stare at me with his one giant oogly eye. Creepy.
The woman with a meat grinder of a mouth I always see in hotel lobbies, walking and well, showing off her massive teeth collection. No one else ever seem to notice.
My psychologist explained that they are just effects of not getting enough sleep. He also attributed the woman with many teeth to my mom who never breastfed me when I was a kid (which was true but I can’t really tell as to why that would be the reason for my hallucination). He also partly blames it to the fact that I wasn’t getting enough sex, he’s Freudian that way.
Days pass by and I start to convince myself that seeing such horrendous creatures is normal and unless they hurt me, I won’t think of them as a problem. So I went on with my daily life of being a person that I never wanted to be.
Which makes me think, if I had been a writer, would I be happier? Would I get enough sleep? Would I wake up in the morning and not think that I would’ve been better off as an accountant? I would never know. Or so I thought.
As I have gotten used to my days with little to no sleep (3 hours or so and decreasing by the minute, literally) and to seeing mister googly eye everyday as I walk down the street which goes to the building I work, I took the liberty of naming him Mister Stephenson. He reminded me of a certain Mister Stephenson when I was a kid. He was a blind old man who was our neighbor a couple of years back. I bet he would’ve wanted the same eye that my Mister Stephenson has.
I haven’t seen Lady Teeth for a while because I don’t really spend much time in hotel lobbies or in any hotels at all. But I made sure to name her Maria when I do see her again.
I never really thought that they would never cause me harm. I always have thought that they were just a figment of my deteriorating imagination. But as I lose myself and the world around me, I had realized then that my nightmares do exist and that they know how to walk with people in real life.
One day, as I head home, I saw Mister Stephenson waiting for me on the other side of a crowded street. He was no longer watching me from the building I work, but instead in front of a street that I had to cross to get to my apartment building. He watched me with his singular but massive eye, never flinching or moving, just blinking and staring. I decided that I needed to find another crossing to get home. So I walked and walked and in every road crossing, he would be there, staring right into my soul.
I would not be robbed of my home so I convinced myself that he was not real; that he was non-existent. He’s just an imagination, a symptom of my insomnia. I had then decided that I had to face him if I were to go home.
I took a deep breath and ready myself to cross the street and towards him. I decided that I was going to cross alongside a couple of other people so I would be safe. But Mister Stephenson had other plans.
When the signal went green for pedestrians, Mister Stephenson started to walk towards me. That’s when parts of him became clearer. He was taller and he had elongated arms and fingers. I was startled and I felt that something jammed my throat to prevent me from screaming. I decided to turn back and run away but due to my startled nature, I had my legs cross each other and I stumbled into the ground. I turned around and saw Mister Stephenson walking fast towards me, reaching with his elongated arms and fingers towards me.
“Oh god,” I muttered. “Please no.” I pleaded.
I covered my face and started whimpering. But nothing happened. A man grabbed my shoulder and asked me if I was okay and I was. I really was. I couldn’t believe it. He helped me get up. My feet were still shaking from the trauma I had witnessed. I felt something warm around my crotch area and that’s when I realized that I had urinated myself out of fear.
Mister Stephenson was gone, but he wasn’t gone for good. Someone like him finds a way around.
I hurriedly went back to my apartment. I opened the door and saw a bald man with one eye across my apartment. He was staring right at me. I shuddered. I was about to run once again, but Mister Stephenson was too fast. I let out a scream and blacked out, only remembering his one eye before the darkness had fully consumed me.
I dreamed of an eye. Only an eye. Looking for around. Looking for something.
Maybe for my lost soul.
I woke up to the sound of someone knocking on my door. It was dusk. I was still wearing my suit from work. It had a stain on the crouch area; it was more visible when it had dried up. I had fainted on the floor and let me tell you that sleeping on the ground is not the best way to go. Aside for the hurting neck, you’ll have a splitting headache to come along with it. I gotta salute homeless people who could tolerate doing such a thing.
The knock was insistent but I was more afraid in opening the door to only see Mister Stephenson waiting for me on the other side. So instead of opening it directly, I asked who it was.
“It’s Leslie, your next door neighbor.” The voice responded. It was a woman's voice, but I was still unconvinced. Maybe Mister Stephenson had a womanly voice. “I heard a scream coming from your apartment and then nothing for a while. I’m worried that something might’ve happened.” The voice added. She might’ve thought that I was murdered, which I think I was.
I was still able to stand up which means that I wasn't murdered or hurt at all. I grabbed the door handle and opened it halfway through. I was hiding the shame on my pants with the use of the door.
I saw a girl with clearly dyed red hair. She also had a ring on her nostrils. She was wearing thick rimmed glasses and I must say that she did look pretty. I mean she looked punk and all, but that didn't bother me. Don't judge a book by it's cover, my mother used to tell me when it comes to women.
I haven’t met her before and I surely hoped that she wasn’t my next door neighbor who screams and moans too hard at night, from the pursuit of pleasure or from the pain of nightmares, I may never know.
“Sorry, but you’re from what room?” I asked hesitantly.
“Uh room 237, the room right in front of you.”
She wasn’t the one. Whew.
“Uh yeah sorry, I kind of tripped once I got into the room and all. I didn’t think anyone would hear it.” I replied and added an awkward laugh to make it sound authentic.
“Oh gosh, I’m sorry to hear that. Are you hurt in anyway?” She said. She looked particularly concerned.
“Just my pride.” I replied and smiled. She smiled back.
“Oh anyways if there’s any problem, you can always call me Mister—“
“Danny. You can call me Dan.”
“Okay Dan. Call me anytime if you need help. I’m just right in front of you room.”
“Alright. Thanks Leslie. Have a goodnight.”
With that she left to the next room. She was pretty but too young for someone my age. I did go through life quite fast without even realizing that I have been single for a very long time. But almost everyone in my office is single. The rest were divorced. Some of them are even reaching their fifties while some are flat out in their fifties. Our position certainly shows what people we have become. I only recently turned thirty but I feel like I’m draining away. I am draining away. Maybe it’s an accountant thing.
If I was younger I would go for her. Or maybe if I was drunk and have my self-esteem be way higher than usual.
But there was a problem at hand and the problem had a name: Mister Stephenson.
I called up my psychologist on his private number and scheduled a meeting with him the next day.
Kristoffer’s clinic was filled and riddled by his many achievements in his field. A psychology major that had finished his doctorate degree just a year ago. You can’t miss any of his life story because it’s all over his clinic. Still, it makes me wonder why someone like him thinks that I have an Oedipus complex. Maybe it’s a Freudian thing.
I explained to him the scenario of what happened the day before. We got into a heated discussion whether if I was attached by a real person or not.
“Tell me the truth Dan! Are you attacked by a real person or not?” He asked and he didn’t seem to be himself. He was more agitated than usual.
“I told you already! Mister Stephenson, the one eyed suit came after me!” I explained.
“He has a name!?” there was clear shock on his face. I kept quiet for a while. I had only then realized how stupid and insane it was to name my would-be hallucinations.
“What else am I supposed to do?” I asked.
“As I said, as of the moment, you have to ignore him.” He replied. I placed my hands together and leaned towards him, resting my chin on my hands.
“He attacked me. I never thought he would.” I said, my voice turned into whisper. “Look, if it’s because of my insomnia, why don’t just give me sleeping pills?”
“Because I just can’t assume that. There’s always an underlying diagnosis that we have to clear up. I just can’t give you pills because you might grow dependent to it.” He explained.
“But what happens if he comes back?” I asked. I felt my neck shudder from the idea of it. Huge single eye. Tall and elongated arms. The very thought disturbs me and sends a chill down my spine.
“Ignore him.” Kristoff responded.
“He attacked me!”
“He’s not real!”
I closed my eyes. I was getting desperate, for sleep, for sanity, for a chance to breathe. I was only able to sleep an hour the entire night. All I could think of was his eye. I can’t stop thinking. I was losing my mind.
“Companions might help. Do you have any relatives or friend that you could stay with?” He asked.
“My parents are miles away and I don’t want to drag them into this.” I said. “And you know how it is with me.” I added.
“You’re not secluded you know. You just have to let people in.”
And he’s right. I have certainly made friends before. I was even in a relationship before. But I can’t help but push people away.
“Okay.” I said, helplessly.
“Look, you have to try and remember when did this all start to happen.”
“I already told you, a couple of months ago. I can’t tell when. It just started to happen.”
Kristoff gave a sigh.
“Alright, I’m not going to force you. But you’re going to have to try and recall. I’ll keep asking you that every session we have.”
I kept quiet for a while.
“Okay.” I said and as I was about to leave he threw container of pills towards me. I managed to catch it.
“Use that. It’s a lower dosage. It should help for a while.” He said. Sleeping pills. He did really care.
Kristoffer is a caring man and I could tell confidently that he’s the only friend I have. You know that your life sucks when you have to pay someone to be your friend or at least act like one.
It’s a distorting thought that I don’t like the position where I am right now. It’s not because I have a job that I don’t like. I made peace with that years ago. It’s just everything around me doesn’t feel right. It feels like I’m in a dream or in a nightmare. In a recurring nightmare. It reminded me a bit of my childhood. But my childhood is a big blur to me, thinking about it makes my head hurt.
Kristoffer and I discussed the possibility of repressed emotions. Anger and sadness, they do exist within me and I feel that I do detach myself way too much, but I just never had a need to have friends. I am particularly mad at the world. Growing up with dreams and in the end, it shatters it with a fucking hammer. I never wanted to be in this place. All I have is security and money, but someone to share it with? No one. A purpose? I’m lost. I really don’t have anything. I gambled everything away for the sake of a secure future and now I’m losing myself and my mind.
I decided to be an accountant because becoming a writer would only make me starve. But now I start to think that starving is better than where I am right now.
I took the day off and swallowed a pill. I fell asleep instantly and it was pure hell.
I woke up chained on a bed in a dark room. No, I don’t think it was a room. We were floating or falling towards the oblivion of darkness. It was pitch black. Then figures started to appear around me, then eyes started to open, one by one. There were ten Stephenson’s around me, this time they didn’t wear a suit, this time they were naked. All they were was flesh, pink was the color of their skin and their red veins were clear to be seen, from the back of their arms to their feet. They didn’t have any privates, their arms were elongated as their fingers, and they were all staring at me. I started to scream, I started to try and break the chains, but to no avail. Then I heard footsteps. Two Stephensons in front of me made way for something or for someone. Then there, in the darkness I saw Maria, with her gruesome teeth and long sharp nails. She too was naked, but she had the same body as the Stephensons. She walked, no, she danced, sporadically and eerily towards me. She looked like she was smiling. My voice was gone. I closed my eyes and accepted my fate. But nothing.
I open my eyes and saw that I was standing on desolated grounds.
The ground was grey like our moon. I saw huge planets in front of me and stars around them. I was in outer space. In front of me was a silhouette of a dark humanoid. He was tall, and he was slim, but he was facing away from me and towards the planets. I can’t tell which planets they were.
“Soon, they will all be mine.” An eerie voice spoke. The voice was scratchy and it was deformed in many ways possible. But it was clear that it was not from this world.
The humanoid started to turn. Tendrils started to form on its back. Its neck grew upwards, and the form of a head was replaced that of a single but massive tendril. It started to look like a starfish with hands. On what used to be its face is a mouth, a giant human mouth with human teeth, and on the top of that were eyes. Many eyes up to the end of the tendril that used to be its head. It was a pink, tendril like creature with many tentacles on its back. I felt it’s malignant nature entering the very fragment of my sanity, twisting it, assimilating with it.
First it smiled, then it opened its mouth. It then rushed towards me.
My vision blurred similar that of an old television. But the monster’s figure is forever carved into my mind.
I woke up to a puddle of my sweat. It was dawn and the sun was just about to rise. I was heaving and I could feel my heart pounding on my chest, as if it wants to escape my rib cage. I was cold, my body was cold. I could never perceive that hell could come in form of nightmares.
I always have thought that dreams have a way to fight away the nightmares tucked deep inside the recesses of the mind. I never knew that it was the other way around. Nightmares consume dreams and later on, it consumes us.
I knew then that I could not fight this alone.
Out I went into the room in front of me. Room 273. I hesitated to knock. My desperation got the best of me. I knocked once, and then twice and then thrice. No answer. I have never felt so alone in my whole life. The doorknob turned and I was greeted by a familiar but sleepy face. She looked like sanctuary in my eyes. She was my escape from my overwhelming and inevitable doom. She’s closest to what an angel would be.
I did my best to smile, but I guess my frantic look got the best of me. She looked worried.
“What happened?” She asked.
“Worst dream ever.” I replied. “Do you like coffee?”
Denzel’s coffee shop is right down the corner of our apartment. It was my go-to place if I needed coffee, but considering my precarious position during the previous months, I never had a need or want of it. But Leslie looked like the kind of girl who likes coffee, and I assumed right, thankfully. She told me how many times she would get coffee from the same shop and how she liked the coffee there very much.
Once we had sat down we talked about various light topics, but it was clear that it was only inching towards that one unavoidable question.
“What happened?” She finally asked and of course, I had to answer. I mean I did ask her out for that reason.
“I was just thinking about you.” I said. And yes I did avoid or maybe even lie about the topic. I can’t tell. It was partially true though because I had been thinking about her ever since Kristoff brought out the topic of companions.
She blushed. Her face turned completely red, her pale white complexion does nothing to hide that fact.
“I-uh-Dan I dont think-uh,” she look plastered. I knew that was a bad idea. I sighed.
“You have a boyfriend, don’t you?”
“No-no-no, Im single.”
“Is it because way older than you are?”
“I’m not even that young.” She replied defensively. “Maybe younger than you are but not that young.”
I couldnt help but smile. She really looked completely red.
“Is it because I look like a rapist?” I said.
She stared at me for a second and then hilariously laughed. Her laugh was enough to turn a few heads into our direction and it’s enough to make me smile.
“Dan, the problem here is that I’m a rapist.” She said after she laughed.
“No shit. Really?”
“I think I would pass for one.” She said and nervously laughed.
“I guess its sufficive enough to say that none of us are rapists.” I concluded. “And you don’t look like a rapist by the way.”
“Thanks.” She said with a sigh. “What I’m trying to say is that I don’t really know anything about you.”
I then proceeded to tell her about my life story. It all came too natural. It's like I've known her my whole life. It's crazy how friendships work.
I had told her where I was born, where I hailed from, what I do for a living, how I hate my younger sibling but loved my elder one. How I hate the person I am and wished that I would be someone else. I told her how I am, as of currently, losing a bit of my sanity every aching day of my miserable life. She was interested enough to listen and by the end of it all, she had the same predominant face whenever she would see me, worried.
“Are you seeing a professional?” She asked.
“Yeah a Psychologist and a friend of mine. Kristoff. At least I like to think that he would still be a friend of mine if I wasnt paying him.”
That got another smile from her.
“That’s good.” She said. “Are you looking for a relationship with me or are you just looking for someone to fuck?” She asked. She became straightforward real fast. “Cause I don’t think I’m good with any of those things.” She added.
I couldn’t help but smile.
“Honestly, right now, I’m just looking for a friend.” I finally said.
I proceeded to tell her about my recent dream, but not of my reoccurring hallucinations. We talked a lot and I learned about her. She was a college student and she was eight years younger than me which made me feel bad simply because she didn’t have much friends and she was stuck with making friends with an old geezer like me. She had a loving family who calls her every other day. She hates college more than anything else but vowed to finish it by the end.
During the entire time we were talking I can’t help but notice someone from the other side of the street staring at me. Someone with only one glaring eye.
After a couple of months our friendly relationship turned into something intimate. I wasn’t expecting much but it was there, just waiting to happen. She didn’t help much with my situation though. Ever since the coffee shop, I vowed to never take sleeping pills ever again. That came in with the cost of sleeping time I had. By the time that I asked her out to come have dinner with me in a nearby fancy hotel, my sleeping time was cut into two hours short, and decreasing by the minute. The hallucination of Stephenson was still there but he never attacked again. Maria was someone I didn’t see at all though, but maybe that was because I don’t spend time on hotels. Except for this one night in where I asked Leslie out so that I may confess my feelings for her.
The State is a fancy five star hotel that has a fancy mall and a fancy restaurant all in one. And if you’re feeling generous, you can afford most of the stuff there, even a room. And if there’s one thing I have been saving my whole life (My sanity is clearly not one of those things) is money. I asked Leslie to meet me there.
There I saw her in a red glimmering dress. Enough to turn everyone’s attention on her. I can’t help but hear the song “Lady in red” as I watch her enter the lobby. When she saw me, she waved and smiled. Her red hair complimented everything she was that night. She looked completely gorgeous.
I approached her.
“Gosh did I overdress?” She asked.
“I think by a bit. Enough to cause some attention.” I said with a smile.
“That a good thing or a bad thing?”
“Just take it as a good thing.”
We walked together to the restaurant. She can’t help but look around like a child. Everything around her interested her. And well when she saw the prices on the menu that was enough to throw her off.
“Uh, Dan I don’t think I can even afford their bottled water here.” She said despairingly.
“Dont worry, it’s on me.”
“I can’t have that.”
I placed a hand on top of hers.
“Just for tonight, you can.” I said with a glaring smile.
She then proceeded to order almost everything on the menu. That left me to love her even more.
The night went on fast. We flirted, we smiled, we ate to our heart’s content and we drank until the both of us were quite tipsy. It was the only time in my life that I felt that I was right where I was supposed to be.
“Oh dear, I think I’m quite drunk.” She said and it was quite clear because she was having the hiccups.
“Don’t worry, I got a room.” I said.
“Is this your way of getting laid?” She said and smiled. “You know I’m not very good at sex. Someone like you should’ve gotten lots of crazy sex. I haven’t done crazy sex. Maybe because I’m shy. And you know—“
“I got two rooms Leslie.” I interrupted. “One for you and one for me.” I added.
“Oh you’re such nice guy. But you should’ve really gotten just one room because I would still sleep with you. I like you the way you like me Dan.” She said and it was my turn to blush and smile like an idiot. I guess getting someone tipsy is one way to let them confess.
“Well you know maybe this is my way of getting laid.”
She can’t help but laugh goofily once again. Music to my ears.
As time passed by and the wine bottles were consumed by the number (I never thought someone like her could drink so much) with me only drinking a couple of glasses, she would finish the rest, I could say that she was seriously drunk.
I accompanied her to her room, almost carrying her along the way.
“Here’s your keycard.” I said.
“You really did get three rooms.” She said.
“Two rooms.” I clarified.
“Yeah that’s what I said: Three.”
I can’t help but smile.
“Okay, in you go, milady.”
“Come in with me, good sir.” She said and winked at me.
“I’m going to decline that for now.”
She looked sober and hurt for a moment.
“That hurt more than it should have.” She said.
“I’m sorry; I’m not very good company at night.”
“We could do something about that.” She said and she was starting to sound desperate. But I couldn’t let that happen.
“Have a goodnight Leslie, I’ll be on the room in front of you.” I said. She didn’t reply. She opened the door to her room hurriedly. I think I might’ve broke her heart.
I really didn't want her to see me at night, bothered by my ever existent nightmares while I stay wide awake.
In many other circumstances, I would’ve gladly went in the room with her, but not this one. Someone with a pink dress was following us the entire time we were heading to our rooms.
I opened my room, took of my shoes, sat on the couch and turned on the television. For a fancy hotel they have very uncomfortable couches. I drone in on the television, because I knew that I wasn’t going to get any sleep that night.
Someone knocked on my door.
“Hey, Dan, I’m sorry about earlier.” Leslie said. “I want to talk to you, please.”
I went to the door and opened it.
To my surprise, it wasn’t Leslie. It was a girl on a pink dress. Her hair was covering her face, but it didn’t cover her sharp razor teeth and drool coming out from it. I hurriedly close the door, but she was too strong. She forced it open. I stumbled on the carpeted floor. Another nightmare was about to begin.
The first thing that came into my mind when Maria’s teeth sank into my right thigh was not pain. It was how I am going to explain the damage and blood on my pants to the dry cleaner.
I fought her off with a pen knife. Going around the room and pushing her off and stabbing her whenever I got the chance. I’m proud that the only wound I had was from my thigh and the wound she got was all over seen on her body, various stabs and lacerations. But that didn’t stop her, in fact, that only made her more furious.
The next wounds inflicted to me were from her long sharp nails which I thoroughly felt as it scratched the side of cheek and my arms. My suit was devastated and I knew that the end was about to come when she was able to push me down to the floor.
She got on top of me and forcefully started to scratch me all around. It hurt. It hurt very much. I wished that Leslie would come and knock on the door and ask if something was wrong, but nothing, the only voices that I heard was the splitting scream and laughter of Maria and my constant whimpering and begging her to stop. And she did stop. She decided that she would end it by biting off my throat. She lunged in right for it. In a quick motion I stabbed her on her right temple. The pen knife stuck on her skull as she fall to the side. My suit was wrecked and I had blood stain all over me. The scratches felt like hundreds of paper cuts on my skin.
Maria’s lifeless body started to convulse. I had a feeling that she was still alive and if I had to guess, she could never die. I pushed myself up and outside the room even if every part of my body ached.
The corridor has changed, the walls had turned into rusty wired fences and the carpeted red floor was stained with what seemed to be blood. There were no other doors except for the room I was previously in. Maria’s laughter echoed through the wall alongside a whisper of a word, “Nyarlathotep”. I started to limp away from the room and into the elevator doors at the end of the corridor. The whisper of the word started to turn into a scream then into a chant. Maria got out of the room and started to walk towards me.
I limped faster. She was going to catch up with me. I made it to the elevator and she jumped right on.
We were grappling each other in a small and confined space. I had a better look on her face. She had no eyes and her mouth was filled with razor shark-like teeth expands all the way to the side of her face. She was so close to me that I could feel her musky breath. Her screams were louder and it echoed around us, making me deaf. The elevator was going down and it was still a long way before we reach our destination.
I decided that I had to finish her or she will finish me. I pushed her with all my might to the elevator wall behind her, she ricochet back towards me. But in a split second I dodge to the side and went directly behind her. I grabbed her lower jaw and upper jaw with my hands. Her teeth dug deep into my fingers. I then proceeded to pull her mouth apart. She screamed and I groaned from the agonizing pain. I let the pain fuel me as I split her face apart completely. And then I heard a snap. That’s when her face was split into half. I stumbled into the floor. Gushing blood came from half of Maria’s face still connected to her neck and body. I had the other half of her face on my hand.
I was hurt and heaving but I survived.
The elevator dinged and opened. I started to hear the hotel music. I saw the hotel lobby and all the people coming through. I went out of the elevator. No one was noticing me. I looked back to the elevator and saw that it was clean. No blood, no nothing. My suit was fine, except for my pants. The wounds were still hurting inside me.
Amongst all the people around me, there was one old tall and pale man who noticed me and walked towards me.
“Are you hungry?” He asked. I hesitated. I felt more scared than I was when I saw Maria in front of my room, but something about the man made me feel safe, something about him made me think that he knew my position better than anyone else.
We both walked towards the restaurant and sat on the same table Leslie and I sat earlier. The waiter gave us our menus and the man ordered, I didn’t even touch the menu. He looked like any other old man in a suit. He was thin but he dressed appropriately for whatever event he had coming. He had his hair pushed back making a clean but efficient style.
“Who are you?” I finally asked.
“I am everything you could think of,” The man answered. “From your darkest horrors, to your insatiable lust. I could make your nightmares come true or make sate to your desires.” I looked at him and he looked like just a normal tall, pale and slender old man, but his eyes told me different. Somehow I could see the entire universe in his eyes or maybe it was something bigger. I felt madness ensuing as I continued to stare, so I averted my eyes away from his.
“I am the nameless god,” he said. “But a messenger, nonetheless.”
He paused for a while waiting for me to talk.
“Are you those two creatures that followed and tried to attack me?”
He gave me a smirk which was menacing to anyone who would live to see it.
“Creatures? They are my disciples, and they are meant for you.” He said. "Stephenson was meant to watch over you, Maria was meant to make you provoke you."
“I don’t understand.” I said out of confusion. Was this man born to only increase my suffering?
“You’re never meant to understand. But I will direct you so that you may understand with such a feeble mind like yours.”
And with a snap of a finger we were directed into the moon from my nightmare. However the starfish like creature wasn’t there anymore.
“Familiar?” He asked.
“Yeah, this is from a nightmare I had.” I answered.
“And the only nightmare you will have.” He said. “You see, you can’t sleep because you fear what your mind might conjure up. You’re defenseless against whatever may consume you in your dream state, but you’re talented Dan, you’re meant to see these great creatures of the abyss. I, for one, am a god, one who has lived way before your fragile human existence dared to exist. And there are those who still came before me, creatures of malignant force, creatures who have no form and that by simply looking at them anyone will grow mad.” He explained. “You have the ability to see them and the future Dan, with your nightmares and dreams. Ever since you were a kid.”
“Ever since?”
Flashbacks came to me in dozens. Memories, dark-shapen, mysteriously woven, entered my vision. He was right, there are creatures that exist, I have seen them when I was a kid, on that little town of ours. The Great Old Ones as they are named in our language. And the man in front of me was one of them.
“Nyarlathotep” I muttered.
“That is me.”
“Why me?”
“Because you are special.” He said with a malicious smile. “My disciples aren’t to be feared, you are to be feared.” He touched my forehead.
A memory of another life came into my vision, a memory in which I became a writer. I had a happy family, fame, money, purpose, every single thing I hoped for. Everything that I yearned for and didn’t have.
Tears streamed my eyes.
“Why?” I muttered. “Why!?” I shouted into the void.
“Isn’t that the most horrifying thing you have ever seen?” He said, pitying me. “And all of the other versions of you chose to follow my gift to them and then there is you. Who apparently escaped my grasp.”
“You gave something to these versions of me?”
“I gave them a deal. To serve me and flourish.”
I looked at him with anger.
“Are you that man who approached me asking me to write again?” I asked.
“I was the man who led you to your school’s press. I was one of the newspaper columnists who paid you for your short stories, and yes I was the man who approached you asking you to write again.” He replied.
"And since I’m the one who escaped your grasp, you let me suffer.” I said while clenching my fists.
“Not suffer, but learn.”
“Learn what?”
“That no one escapes me.” He said. “But nonetheless, this is what makes you different. This is what makes you special. Instead of following just like the rest of them, you thought differently. But of course, if you accept me then I will change your course to become what you wanted.”
“Why do you still need me? You already have so much of me.”
“I need you to complete my puzzle.”
“What puzzle?”
“There’s something coming, something that has been lurking in between, consuming places that has been and will be.” He explained. “I will need all of you to be a part of an army.”
Something came into my mind. A vision. Visions of me being thrown into some kind of dark puddle and turning into abhorrent creatures.
Eternal suffering.
“Choose someone else.” I said. He laughed.
“I’m giving you a chance.” He threw his arms behind him and dark men came forth. They soon took form and they were all me. Grinning and malicious.
“You are the last piece of the puzzle and I will have you whether you like it or not.”
All versions of me started to run and that’s when I saw their deformities. Some of them had three eyes or more eyes, some of them had tentacular arms, some had no face but I knew they were still me.
I ran away as fast as I could. They screamed in unison, they shouted, calling me, telling me to come back. But I would not let them have me.
In the corner of my vision I saw a mirror like fragment that showed me a reflection of the restaurant. I made a beeline for it. I made contact with the mirror and I saw myself back to the same table. This time Nyarlathotep was eating his steak.
“Disappointing, really.” He said as he took another bite of the steak. “I don’t see why you wouldn’t want a better life than this.”
“I don’t want to become a slave.” I muttered angrily.
“But surely you’re better off as slave than where you are right now.”
I kept quiet. I hear him chew and eat his steak.
“Can I go now?” I said.
“Of course, you’re always been free to go.” He said. I stood up and started to walk away. “But I’ll keep in touch Dan. I always keep in touch.” I could feel his grin linger behind me.
I was shaking, I was lost. I felt desolated, abandoned. I felt confined, I felt desperate.
I didn't get any sleep that night.
I saw Kristoff the next morning, I told him everything.
“That’s crazy, man.” He said.
“I know.” I replied out of grief. “Do you believe me?” I asked.
“Of course.”
We kept quiet for a while.
“So I’m not going insane then?” I asked.
“Not in my diagnosis.” He replied and smiled. “You ever thought of writing it down?”
He grinned the same way all other versions of me on that desolated moon did.
I went home. My psychologist is no longer the man he was.
I knocked on Leslie’s door. She opened it directly. She greeted me and smiled. I hugged her and told her thank you. I felt her grinning behind my back.
I opened the door to my room and went inside. Leslie was clearly staring at me with a wide smile. A familiar smile. Leslie was no longer the woman she was.
I can’t help it. I can’t battle him anymore. As I said I wouldn’t be writing unless my life depended on it. Now it really does.
I haven’t written for a long time. Now, I write because Nyarlathotep recommended me to do so. He said that it helps with my sleeping pattern, because considering the fact that I don’t sleep much, I also have the need to dig up graves from my past.
I hear knocking on my doors, on my windows. I hear laughter, I hear myself talk of the better days.
I guess I’m doing this as a warning, to everyone out there.
There are things bigger than us, things that aim corrupt to us. And There’s something coming, something that has been lurking in between, and it will consume this place and other places that have been and will be.
But as I write this down, these thoughts do not bother me. Oblivion does not bother me. What bothers me, what I truly ask myself is: What have I become?