Part II of this epic novella.
“That was only the first dream. Countless others filtered into my mind every night while I slept, each one becoming more ridiculous and terrifying than the last. But they all had one connection, that monster. In some way or another, it was in each dream, even if the dream was a pleasant one. I remember, this one time, I was fooling around with Jennifer Sweet, a vivacious model at the time, and there it was, leaning over us like a disapproving mother. Before it yanked her from me, and hung her by her neck with its black tentacle, I jumped out of bed and puked. It came to the point that after every dream, I would wake up sick to my stomach.
“A few months had past and I was growing curious about the thing, so I ventured into the libraries and random bookstores in the city, looking for any type of books that dealt with supernaturalism, demonology, urban legends, and really anything that could be connected to dreams. I didn’t find much on the monster specifically, but I did find a lot of information on things that were to it, in a book called Vieni Prieš Mus, which roughly meant, Ones Before Us. Originally, I later found out, it was written in Egyptian, then translated in a few different languages, like old Chinese, Greek, and Hebrew. I assumed it was a pretty old book.
“As the title was written in Lithuanian, so were its insides, but with the help of the librarian and a Lithuanian-to-English book, I ventured through its pages and what I found was astounding. Not to speak too much about it, but it contained several illustrations of deities that were worshipped at one time or another, pre-dating Lithuanian, Egyptian, and Nordic mythologies.
“Great beings with misshapen bodies, arms, legs, and even necks. Some of them were enormous, larger than a skyscraper. Others were so small that I don’t think we could ever see them. Some of them had small descriptions, like Ci’arab, a goddess with no outline that once protected Earth from meteors, or Uydian, a turtle-like god who lead the Tor and rules over In’pher.
Others had limbs that seemed to weave in every direction, as if they had no sense of balance or physiology! But in some queer way, I believe now, that was normal for them, like it’s normal for us to have two feet, two arms, and one head.
“Anyway, I digress. I stumbled upon a page titled Tusen Synt Veiled, Fylegt roughly translating as “The Thousand Sighted Guide, Fylegt.” Below the title there was a large image of what haunted me, a massive being towering over some type of monolithic statue. It was as I described: muscular, two arms, thousands of tentacles, bulbous head, and two bulging eyes. Although the image was more detailed than my dreams, there was no color but the yellowed page it was on and the black ink used in the illustration.
“Each tentacle had wavy lines engraved in them, and small suction cups at the bottom, with tiny sharp teeth inside. And I was wrong before, there were no legs underneath the curtain of tentacles, but something much more unsettling. Attached to its underside was a black sphere, and in it was what I believed to be two concave eyes.
“The body, oh Chase, the body was the craziest thing of all. It was covered in slits, and beneath those were eyes, thousands of them. Varying in size, and shape, they covered from its wrists to its neck, and all over its back. The book didn’t say if they were all functional, but what fool would dare to find out?
“The last part I inspected as I made my way up the image was its head. I was wrong when I said there were two eyes, because they were simply two bulging heaps of flesh. Its entire head was just a lump of skin, the top part fatty, which made it appear bulbous, and the rest muscle.
“On the adjacent page of the illustration was another drawn picture. It was a ring, the exact one I purchased from that store that drunken night. Unfortunately there wasn’t anything written on the page, nor was there text on the backside of the paper, only the drawing of the ring. Dread filled me when I pulled the ring from my pocket and held it next to the picture.
“What I held in my hand was the exact ring, to a T. The weaving black lines, the tens of eyes as its center piece, and although the only color of the image was the yellowed paper, I could imagine the ring’s base was silver.
“I became sweaty and queasy sitting there, so I slammed the book closed, and shoved the ring back into my pocket. Then quickly made my way out of the library, nodding and thanking the young librarian as I departed.
“With the ring in my possession, and a crumpled up page filled with copied words about Fylegt in my hand, I hastily made my way home.”
Nathan drank from his tea and looked down to his hands. “I never heard of the deities, especially Fylegt, before reading that book, and in some unknown way, the Thousand Sighted Guide has cursed me ever since I bought that blasted ring. He haunts me when I’m awake, and when I’m asleep. With every passing night Chase, my dreams become more vivid, gruesome and terribly real.
“I can’t escape it, I’ve learned now. During the day, I can control it by filling my head with other things, like reading a book or listening to music. But in my slumber, it’s like the chains that bound it are broken, allowing it to run free, to consume and devour every non-waking moment of my life.
“I know, I sound like a lunatic. Rambling on about ancient gods and dreams, but it’s the truth. And sorry to say Chase, but this queer journey doesn’t stop there.”
When I looked to my wristwatch it was three o’clock, and after a restroom break, I was back sitting on the couch. Looking around the room, I could see my half-filled open notebook on the table next to an empty cup, then peering at the room more closely, I realized how dingy it really was. Most of the walls had large gaping holes, covered by planks of wood and newspaper. The ceiling was even bleaker; stains, mildew, and I swear I heard something, probably rats, scurrying between the floorboards. I never felt dirtier than I did then, sitting in that dumpster of a room, but money is money.
Nathan entered the room from the kitchen, holding a teapot in one hand, a trivet in another, and placed the sheet of wood onto the table, then put the pot onto it, then walked over and sunk into his chair. We didn’t speak during that break. While we sat in silence he looked out the window, the sun illuminated his eyes like electric bulbs while he gazed longingly at God knows what. An uncomfortable feeling swelled up in the quiet room, and an internal struggle between staying or leaving became forefront in my mind.
This man is weird, I thought, but friendly. Maybe I should leave now, before he goes deeper into his strange past. Or, maybe, I shouldn’t, that would be rude, especially for the amount he paid me — no, I’ll stay, at least for the rest of today. But I can’t see myself coming back here, even for the money. I’ve read enough books to know that when you enable someone’s delusions, it only becomes worse at time goes on.
Finally he turned his head, and singled with a nod that it was time to begin.
“I visited more libraries and bookstores after that, still trying to piece together why this thing invaded my dreams, but never found anything more than what I already knew. I put an ad or two in the paper, asking for anyone who had knowledge about dreams, Fylegt, or Ones Before Us, but I didn’t get anything for weeks. Until about a month later, I received a phone call.
“His name was Edward and he said he knew about the book, Fylegt, the ring, everything, and could speak more on the subject if we were to meet. Without a second thought, I agreed, so we met at Hot Brew, Hot Buns — that one coffee shop on Dutch Boulevard, the one with the delicious homemade cinnamon buns.
“He was there before I was, sitting against a wall at a corner table, wearing some type of black hooded cloak. When I sat across from him, I couldn’t really get a good look at his face.
“He never looked at me either, only stared at the swirling white in his coffee. There was an awkward silence for a few minutes, then he finally spoke.
“‘You’ve read Vieni Prieš Mus, have you? You possess the ring as well, yes? You have seen Fylegt, the thousand-eyed guide? I know what it says in the book, but he goes by many names. I am sure that you can guess that there was a time, before that book came to exist, when people worshipped the gods in those texts, calling them something different from we do.
“‘I digress. You came for information, yes? Well, I can help you, but I must know you can be trusted. Give me your home address, so if I like, I can find you at any time. Also, show me the ring, you know the one. Then you can start describing your dream. I want more information on what you have seen and what you know, before I divulge anything.’”
“And so I gave him my address and went into detail about my dream, like I did with you Chase. I also spoke about the book, and although unasked, what I thought about Fylegt. And I showed him the ring, and he seemed oddly captivated by it, but he quickly looked back to his coffee. He never looked at me when I spoke, it was like he didn’t care about what I had to say, only wanting confirmation on what he already knew.”
“‘Ah… yes, sounds like Fylegt really did come to you. We can discuss this more at my home. It is unsafe to speak of such things publicly. Meet me here, tomorrow, at six o’clock, yes in the morning.’” He slide a piece of paper across the table, “‘I will take you where I live, where all your questions will be answered.’”
“I showed up earlier this time. The sun was only a little bit over the horizon, and the sky was a soft grayish blue. I stood, gazing up at the skyscrapers, watching as their windows became white with the sunlight. Then, dozens of birds came out of nowhere and flew passed the white-outed glass, and they all looked to be more like silhouettes than birds.
It all was so beautiful that I became entranced, but, unfortunately, Edward was next to me, as if he teleported, and abruptly snapped me back to reality with his scratchy, low, voice.
“‘You came, good. Follow me.’”
“He was still wearing that black cloak from the day before, I noticed, and he lead me to the bottom part of that enormous bridge that spans across the Refleski River. Standing near the bridge’s base, the chill from the moving water crept up over us. He muttered something, then a door appeared in the cement beam.
“Of course I asked if the door was there before Chase, but he didn’t answer. He only stood there, looking down the open doorway. It was probably my imagination or maybe I didn’t notice it when we arrived, it was early after all. Either way, I shrugged it off and followed him through the entrance.
“The opening lead down a narrow hallway that randomly veered every few steps. It was like a maze, and in some instances I nearly tripped when I wasn’t paying attention. For someone with a cane, it was an unforgiving place. After what felt like an hour or so, we came to another opening, then he said with a point of his boney finger, “‘my home.’”
“It was large, square, and filled from floor to ceiling with shelves packed to the brim with books, some half opened and spilling out from every crevice. A wooden table, chair, and a half full coffee pot was in the center. Hanging over table was a chandelier crafted from some type of purple crystal, maybe amethyst? I don’t know, but I did know it emitted an eerie violet glow that gently covered the room.
“When I walked over to the chair to sit down, a door in the back wall appeared. Again, I accredited it to my imagination, or maybe the room was much longer than I thought and I didn’t see the door from the entryway.
“Midway from the seat, Edward sprinted passed me and sat down in the chair. It was his home, so I didn’t say anything, he had the right to sit in his only chair. But he didn’t have to steal it away like a child. So with a grumble, I found the sturdiest pile of books and sat. Then he spoke.
“‘As you can tell I have thousands of books, covering every subject known to man, but the information you seek is beyond that door.’” He motioned with hand towards the wooden door, “‘But I can only allow you to read what is contained in that room for three hours. Once those threes hours are finished, you are to be removed from the room, and you can never read them again.’”
“‘I cannot say which book contain what information. That is for you to find out. You are lucky enough to see this place, let alone read what lies behind that door.’“
A bell rung from somewhere in the house, and looking to my watch, it was a quarter to seven. It is time to leave, Nathan said, and for me to come back tomorrow, to meet him at the same place and at the same time.
I agreed to but really had no intentions of coming back. He was clearly delusional, and I believed that if I continued to enable him with his tale of some old god, or some person named Edward, I would somehow be dragged down by him into his lunacy.
With haste I put my things away and I was politely rushed out of the house. While I moved down the porch stairs, the door behind me slammed shut and several locks clinked into place.
I didn’t show the next or any of the following days. Every day I received a letter from him, asking me to finish writing the story, but I ignored each one, some never opened and shredded. Though the pay was great, there was something strange about him, something felt off with the whole thing, something that could lead me into more trouble than it was worth.
Not knowing where I lived helped me keep hidden and I didn’t think he could use a computer even if he tried. But the feeling of being watched was always present. Sometimes when I’d walk home from work at night, I could hear footsteps trailing behind me, but when I’d turn and look, nothing’s ever there but the yellow glow of the street lamps.
And other times, while I unlock the front door, I swear I could hear something moving around from inside the apartment, but when I finally get the door open, the house is empty, and nothing is disturbed.
It’s just my mind playing tricks, that’s all, I told myself while laying in bed. Those sounds at night, or the noises in the apartment are just my head toying with me. I just need to calm down and forget all about Nathan and his crazy story.
Not just his story is crazy, he’s crazy too, just a crazy old coot with wild dreams about the boogey man, nothing more. Plus, with a body like his, he couldn’t harm a fly, let alone a man in his early twenties.
I mean, honestly, if anything would happen, I can call the police… maybe I’ll do that, tomorrow. Yes, tomorrow, if the harassment continues.
The alarm clock on the bed stand blinked eleven, and I set it to wake me at six the following day. Closing my eyes, I gradually floated off into my own dream world — one without monsters, old men, or Fylegt.
A pounding noise rattled in my skull, forcing me awake. Through a wall of haziness I looked and saw I was no longer in my bedroom, or my home, but in a basement. And my head hurt greatly, it felt like I banged it off a wall or something, but I didn’t focus on that just then, I needed to get up. When I tried to stand, I quickly realized I couldn’t, that my wrists and ankles were bound by rope to a wood chair.
Twisting and jerking against the tight rope, my flesh felt like it was on fire, and the sweat that covered my skin only increased the burning. Pulling, tugging, writhing, and nearly falling over is what I did for what felt like an hour. The body odor that lingered around me was the only thing that reminded me I wasn’t dreaming.
Finally I gave up and took to inspecting the room. The light coming through the two windows near the ceiling, and some light coming down the poorly built stairwell to my right, helped me see my
It was a basement, that was for sure. The floor was cement, the walls were made from cinder blocks, and they were both painted blue. In each corner of the room were boxes, stacks of them, and on some of them were piles of carelessly placed knick-knacks. The ceiling overhead was low and had a layer of wires and metal tubing that seemed to go in every direction.
Strangely enough, it reminded me of my college dorm room. Small, square, and poorly light. Unexpectedly, memories filtered into my mind like a film. Images of my days at Harrison University, ones filled with writing about people’s dreams and thoughts in coffee shops, classrooms, and restaurants.
At first, it was uncomfortable to ask strangers about their dreams, especially when it was a woman, but as time went on, it became easier, everything became easier. By the end of the school year, I had stacks of notebooks filled with stories, ones from students, faculty members, and some people I met off-campus.
Sounds from overheard broke me from my nostalgic memories. Footsteps, I thought, someone was frolicking around while I was here, tied to this damn chair. When I tried to scream, my voice was muffled. Through everything, I never realized my mouth was filled with cloth, and my lips were taped shut.
Taking to the room again, I looked around, assuring myself there was nothing I could do to escape. When I finished, I came to the decision to throw caution to the wind. It was time to smash the chair against the floor.
I rocked it frontwards, then backwards, and repeated the process until its motion carried itself. Toward the rear it toppled over, crashing against the cement floor, luckily I held my head forward, because I nearly smacked the back of my skull on the cement.
But I wasn’t lucky enough, as the chair didn’t give and I was left on my back, staring up at the ceiling, cursing myself. Being on my backside was greatly uncomfortable, so as before, I rocked the chair until it turned over onto its side, so I could at least stare at the wall, as if it was some way more pleasant to look at than the ceiling.
While I stared at the blue wall, the creaking of the door pierced the air, and the sound of heavy feet echoed through the dim room. Even though I fought off the overwhelming fear growing inside me, my eyes still began to water, and my pants were on track to be soiled. When the footsteps were no longer on the stairs, but on the floor behind me, I closed my eyes, feeling the sweat starting to form over my body.
A question popped into my mind like an exploding balloon: Who was it? Who would do such a thing as kidnap and bound a man to a chair in his, or her, basement? I wronged no one, and I’ve always kept my rude thoughts to myself. Maybe I should look? What harm could it do? I mean, I’m already tied up, so the worst thing that could really happen is that he, or she, tapes my eyes closed. Then what? I can’t look at this bleak place? I’ll take my chances.
Straining my neck, I turned my head and looked over my shoulder. The fear from before was pulled up like a curtain, and another curtain fell down, one of anger and frustration. Standing there, looking down at me with wrinkle surrounded eyes, a cane in his right hand, and the other hand in his sweater vest pocket, was that damn old man – Nathan.
“Don’t bother trying to break free, you won’t be able to. As you’ve noticed, those ropes are tight and the chair is sturdy,” he said as he flipped a switch. Lights blared down upon the room. In a knee-jerk reaction, I shut my eyes. “You were ignoring my letters, my one request, the thing I paid you to do. In my day, when a man paid another man to do something, that man would do it in a timely matter. But that’s neither here or there, times are different …”
His voice trailed off, like he was caught in a thought, then he snapped back.
“You thought you could avoid me, but like I said in the beginning. I have little time to have my story written down. Your childish behavior was wasting precious time, so I had to be, you could say, a bit extreme.”
He was now next to me, kneeling down, his green eyes glistening underneath the light. A smile crept over his face.
“So, my boy, it’s time to finish the story,” he continued to speak as he put the chair back onto its legs. “I picked up some paper and pens from the store, for you to use. I hope it’s to your liking. I’ll go get them now. Don’t move,” he chuckled, then made his way upstairs.
He came trotting down the stairs, then stood in front of me, pen and paper held out. The smile from before never left him, unfortunately. “This will be tricky, but I trust you enough that you won’t try anything troublesome. I’ll unbind your wrists, so you can write freely, but the tape will remain, as will the ropes around your ankles.” With a small knife, he cut the rope and the cold air that rushed over my wrists, soothing the self-induced rope burn, was as satisfying as ice cream on a summer’s day.
He placed the writing supplies on my lap, patted them, and said it was time to begin. With the cheap black pen gripped in my hand, the tip pressed against the striped white paper, Nathan continued his crazy story.
“Where did I leave off? Oh yes, I was speaking to Edward about that room beyond the closed door.”
“’Go, if you must. Look at those documents in that room.’” His frail hand pointed underneath his cloak, “‘but know once you have read those words, laid on those yellowed pages thousands of years ago, you can never unlearn what they contain.’“
“I thought he was crazy but he spoke with such conviction I started to believe he was telling the truth. Cautiously I made my way to the door. I trembled when I grasped the black steel handle in front of me, the metal cooled my warm palm. With a pull, the hinges wailed and the door slowly opened. Standing aimlessly in front of the open doorway, I looked into the blackness ahead.
“Hesitantly, I entered the room, instantly there was a cold chill that shot through my back, like when a child is caught doing something naughty. Before I could even consider turning back and sprint away from that horrible place, the door slammed shut, and flames shot out from torches along the walls. It was so sudden I didn’t have time to shield my eyes from the brightness, but once my eyes adjusted to the glow of the flames, I could see a square stairwell in the center of the room.
“Not wanting to spend more time than needed, I hurried down the stairs. In a few minutes, I found myself in another room. It was similar to Edward’s room, large, square, and cast from cement, except this room was mostly empty. Light filtered in from the outside through unseen crevices where the walls met the ceiling.
“In the middle of the room was a long wooden table, and placed on it was a stack of books and a pile of old papers. Beyond and above the table was a small window near the ceiling, and pass the glass was a blotchy yellow glow.
“My footsteps echoed against the stone floor as I made my way to the table. Once there, I stood, looking down at the books laid out. None of them had titles, and each one was colored the same dull brown. Picking up one by random, I opened it, and started to read as quickly as I could, wanting to obtain as much information in the shortest amount of time.
“While my eyes moved over the words, thanking God in the back of my mind that it was surprisingly written in English, I knew what I read would answer my questions, and provide me with some unforeseen inhuman knowledge of great things that once lived in the past, though they’ve been long removed from the minds of today’s masses.
“I dare not utter about what I learned those books Chase. Only a madman could conjure up those dreaded tales and paint those horrifying images of unforgiving, uncaring, hellish gods that once ruled space and time. Some still live, in unexplored parts of space, some live within our dreams, and some on this very earth.”
He sighed, then went on.
“Hours had past, and the light reflecting in was fading when I finished reading everything there was. Looking up to the window, I caught a glimpse of a shadow moving across it, like something ran in front of the light.
“Then the yellow light began to dim and as if it was bleeding, maroon seeped out through its center. Slowly it engulfed the yellow completely and while it did so, an unsettling glow of purple blanketed the room.
“A booming voice crashed through the air, shaking the contents on the table. I didn’t know if it was speaking a language or simply shouting nonsense. As it spoke my bones shook, and an overwhelming feeling of fear and dread swelled up inside me, making me sick to my stomach and locking me where I stood. I focused on the red tinted window, as if I was hypnotized by it, and all the while the shouting grew louder, stronger, to the point where my thoughts were blocked out by the ungodly words.
“As I watched the window, it started to grow, its width expanding across the cement wall. Colorless tentacles began pouring out near the window’s frame, weaving, twisting, and flapping across and against the tan wall. I tried to scream, Chase, I tried to scream to Edward, to anyone who could hear and help, to relieve me from that hell. But I quickly learned that when I tried to yell, all that came out was gurgles, as if my throat was clogged with water.
“When a giant bulbous head pushed through the window, I didn’t know if I had fainted and was dreaming, or that I was awake. One massive hand gripped the left side of the window, then another giant hand gripped the right side, and they pushed open the window further as black ooze melted down into the room underneath the massive claws.
“With tears streaming down my face, and urine down my leg, I came to the shocking realization that I wasn’t dreaming, or unfortunately dead. What was really happening before my fear-stricken eyes was that Fylegt was coming through that window. The thousand-eyed guide was entering my — our — reality as if the portal from one world to the next was as simple as crawling through a glassless window.
“It hit me like a wrecking ball. He was always there, watching, waiting, for the right moment to enter this world and drag it down into its hellish abyss filled with unspeakable creatures and monsters I dare not think about, let alone speak about.
“I believe that God granted me a chance at that moment, because a second wind blew through me before the entirety of Fylegt’s body was in the room. With newly discovered courage, I broke free from my horror-induced restraints, turned, and sprinted towards the stairwell as quickly as my legs and cane would allow.
“Up the stairwell I went, behind and around me I could see black vines spreading up the walls, some nearly grabbing hold of my ankles. Even with the reflexes of an old man, I somehow managed to avoid them.
“I made it to the torch lit room covered in sweat and I could feel the blisters starting to form on my feet and my palm. Banging on the door, I slammed my arms and fists against the wood, and learned quickly the gurgles ceased, so I screamed as loud as I could for Edward to open the door, to let me out, to open the gateway between Heaven and Hell.
“I peered over my shoulder while I rapped on the door, but I soon learned that was a mistake. What I looked upon filled me with fear that no man ever felt before. Vine-like tentacles slithered and flapped up the stairwell, gradually sliding up the sides of the room, and deep in the shadows of the stairwell. Beyond the veil of darkness, I could see eyes, thousands of them, thousand of misshapen eyes peering up at me through the blackness. A wailing echoed out from the stairwell, filling the room with an inhuman shriek. It was so loud that the vibrations alone extinguished all the flames in the room. It was so maddening, so … so … monstrous, that all I wanted to do Chase was to stop beating the door, grab ahold of my ears, and rip them off with my bare hands.
“But I didn’t, as you can tell. Using my cane now, I hit it against the door for what felt like hours, but the wood never faltered. While I continued to slam my cane against the door, I committed another folly and peeked over my shoulder again to see a massive hand, claws and all, reaching out from the shadowy depths of the stairwell towards me.
“Every ounce of strength and energy my feeble body possessed was used at that very moment. My cane was starting to crack, my hands were bleeding, and in some instances I was using my head as an object as well, so my head was bleeding as well. I could feel the hand coming closer, I don’t know why Fylegt was toying me with, with its slow movement, but I knew it was.
“As the hand grew near, I could feel a warmth slowly moving through my body, starting from my back. It was as if I was standing next to an open flame, slowly inching towards it until the flames consumed me.
“But I didn’t let them, I didn’t let the flames consume my body Chase. Not a second too soon, the door gave way and swung open. I burst forth like a man tripping over an unnoticed ledge. My body flung down through the open doorway and collided hard with the stiff cold dirt near the Refleski River.”
Trying to keep up with his fast and almost gibberish-like words, my pen scribbled across the paper. Finally when he finished, I looked up to see he was coated in sweat, and a vein near his temple was popping out. He pulled a stool out from behind one of the piles of boxes, placed it near me and sat, heavily breathing.
“After I got out of that damn room, I ran home, never looking back, and locked myself in for two weeks. I was too scared to leave. I didn’t sleep once, and I barely sleep now, terrified to dream.” His breathing was slowing down, and the enlarged vein started to deflate. I tried to speak but forgot that my mouth was covered.
He undid the tape, pulled a sock from my mouth, and after a few seconds of hacking, I spoke. “Thank you. About Fylegt, I thought it was a guide of some sort? It’s supposed to bring you somewhere? Oh and what happened to the ring, the one you bought?”
Looking from the floor to me, his bloodshot eyes, I could tell, were filled with fear, when he said. “Yes, that is true. It is a guide, but not by our definition. In our world, a guide is someone who directs us somewhere, but in their world — its world — it doesn’t show you to a destination, but drags you to it, screaming.
“The place could be Hell, The Netherworld, Oblivion, I don’t know. But I do know one thing, that I refuse to be yanked from this world, and thrown into some unknown place with an abomination that has millions of eyes and tentacles.
“And the ring was stolen by Edward, I later found out. I’ll talk about that later.”
He was calm now. Maybe I could talk some sense into him and get out of here, I thought. Watching as he rubbed his eyes and yawned, I spoke. “I’m sorry you’re in this weird situation, I really am, but having me write it all down isn’t going to help anything. I mean, even if it’s on paper, if this thing steals you away, what’s the point?
“The story would collect dust, no one would read it, no one would know your dreams. Hell, no one would even know about Fylegt, your venture, or that it all even existed.”
“Because Chase,” he shouted, “people will know — people have to know! In some way, they must know that Fylegt, and others like it, exist! That when they sleep and dream, the monstrosities they unconsciously conjure up might not be a product of their mind, but might actually be real! Flesh, blood, and bones real!”
“That doesn’t answer the question Nathan. What are you going to next? Let’s say people read your story after all this, it still wouldn’t change the predicament you’re in. You’ll still be haunted by that creature regardless. How are you going to live with that?”
The purple bags hanging from his eyes didn’t help his plea when he said, “I’ll just never sleep. And If I do, it’ll only be in small intervals, like an hour or two. I’ll avoid the REM cycle and dreams completely, won’t I? If I don’t dream, it can’t get me, right?”
There was no other choice, so I agreed with him with a nod. His reasoning was sound, for a madman, but I still needed to push him to untie me. I didn’t care what he was afraid of, or what he did, only that I needed to get out of that house, away from him. My thoughts drifted towards the possibilities of what he might do to me in the future. If he doesn’t find kidnapping a terrible act, I couldn’t fathom what other deviant acts he finds acceptable.
“I’ve written your story,” I said coolly, “so how about you untie me now?”
“No, not yet Chase, there’s still more story left to be told. You just stay put where you’re at” he said with a smile.
“Why would you want to leave anyway? You’re safe from Fylegt here, with me. We could stay here forever and take shifts sleeping. While one sleeps, the other watches! If something happens, the one awake could wake the sleeping one up! It’d be great! It’s fool-proof!”
His fingers pushed into my thighs and his mouth was wide with a smile only an insane man could form. The deranged person sitting in front of me had the appearance of a young boy during Christmas; full of excitement, happiness, wonder, and hope.
I had no choice but to play his game… until the chance presented itself for me to escape.
Come back tomorrow for the thrilling conclusion!
I like things and black coffee.