musings

the words were a drum,
beating down on my chest
heavier than the sun, more dense
than any forest, deeper than
the Bering Sea.
muscles tensed, ears plugged,

still, I could pick up your voice
ringing through the crowd.

the sun flooded every corner,
the breeze blew my darkness in spirals.
words twisted the smile of my mouth.
shuffled, flying, melting gelatinous,
I welcomed the Spring, chasing my
footsteps, engulfing my 98.6

but you’re still that cloud, the one cloud
I could never find shapes in
neither Sun nor Storm.

This is a short, fictional story I wrote today while I was feeling particularly creative and creepy. Let me know what you think.

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I’ve had a mild, yet skeptical, obsession with the paranormal for as long as I can remember. As a teenager, I’d spent countless nights with my friends playing with a Ouija board, having séances, walking through grave yards, and visiting supposedly haunted houses in the area - all ending in silliness. The fear we inflicted upon ourselves was fun and somewhat addicting. When I moved out with my boyfriend Adam on my 20th birthday, everything changed. The fear wasn’t fun anymore. The fear was real and unwelcoming.

Adam and I found a gorgeous apartment for rent in a very old church that had been turned into a small apartment complex a few decades ago. The architecture was stunning and I couldn’t wait to decorate it and add my own flair. I was so excited to finally be out on my own, away from what I’d known as “home” for my entire life, and even happier to be venturing out with Adam. He was my lover, my best friend, my other half, and I couldn’t wait to begin my life with him. Upon telling my friends about the move, I received some skepticism about the fact that we’d be living inside of a former church. I hadn’t even really thought about that through my excitement and I adamantly decided to just ignore the fact. As they say, ignorance is bliss.

I drove my friends the 20 miles to show off my new apartment a few weeks before I was allowed to move in. Needless to say, I did not have a key yet so I’d only gotten to show them the outside. Their reactions, for the most part, mirrored mine. The twists and turns and ebbs and flows of the building were intricate, beautiful, and ancient. However, my friend Clare just stared at the building through the car window with a pale face. 

“That place is creepy as fuck,” Clare muttered under her breath and turned her attention away from the building and to her hands grasping one another tightly on her lap. I laughed and shrugged it off. I wasn’t going to let anyone ruin my excitement.

On a February morning, Adam and I finished moving into the apartment and it started to feel like home. Upon arriving, there was still some things left up from the church: crosses on the wall, the confession booth, etc. We left the confession area as it was because we simply just thought it was pretty neat, but we took the crosses and everything else down, as neither of us were religious. 

Strange things started happening gradually. I’d hear a knock on the door, but the front steps would be empty upon opening the door and looking out. Things would fall off the shelves seemingly out of nowhere. The TV would change channels sporadically or the power would go out altogether. I wasn’t scared at this point; I was mostly just confused and chalked it up to the old age of the building. I treated the building like one would an old dog, and just assumed it needed more care.

The first time Adam went away on business and I was alone in the apartment for a weekend was when things progressed. I went to sleep that Friday night at a decent time, as I planned to wake up early the next morning for a doctors appointment. Laying in bed alone in the dark, I kept hearing what sounded like a cat meowing from the hallway. We didn’t have a cat, but I figured that a stray may have wandered into the apartment looking for food or shelter. It was winter, after all.

I reluctantly lifted myself out of bed, immediately just getting a strange feeling. It was the first time I felt so uneasy in the apartment, and it was overwhelming. It was different from the fear I felt while “ghost hunting” years ago. I slowly walked to the door and the meowing grew louder and more desperate. But when I touched the doorknob and began turning it, it stopped. Silence. I made my way into the hall and peered down. There was a woman with black hair standing at the end of the hallway, right outside of the bathroom. I know that the woman with black hair is the typical scary movie creature, but this was just a woman. She didn’t look dead, she didn’t look deformed, she wasn’t frightening. I couldn’t make out her face because of darkness filling the hallway. I called out to her, something like “Hello? Who are you? Are you okay?” and for a few moments I thought that maybe she thought this building was still a church. She didn’t respond but she walked toward me. The closer she got, the more I was filled with dread. Fighting the urge to run downstairs and get the fuck out of there, I reached out and slid my hand against the wall until I found the light. I flicked it on and in front of my was… myself.

I was standing in my hallway, looking at myself. Immediately, I thought that I was dreaming. It wasn’t a mirror. It was a person. I was me and so was this separate being standing in front of me. This thing, this thing identical to me, tilted its head to the side and stared into my eyes. I couldn’t move. I don’t even think I was breathing at this point. This thing’s mouth twisted into a smile that could only be described as evil. I opened my mouth to scream and I collapsed. Or at least, I’m assuming I collapsed.

I woke up in the confession box. Having no idea what time it was, or how I got there, I immediately began crying as I remembered my dream. Terrified to even move, I slowly forced myself out of the box and into the living room. It was dark outside, so I figured it was still Friday night and I had just been sleepwalking - although, I’d never sleepwalked before in my life and it seemed a little odd to start at 20 years old. Our phone started ringing and as I advanced toward it, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror and was stopped in my tracks. There was dried blood all over my face, as if it had been streaming out of my mouth. My clothes were torn and my hair was a wild mess. There was a patch of fur stuck to blood on my arm. 

I didn’t make it to the phone as I was entranced and confused by my appearance, so the answering machine picked up. Instead of the cute, basically default, message Adam and I left on there, letting people know to try calling again and whatnot, it was a cat meowing. For around fifteen seconds, it was a cat’s meow quickly turning into a cat’s shriek, as if it was being mauled to death. I stood frozen on the hardwood floor, waiting for the beep.

The beep came and I heard an unfamiliar voice.

“Strange answering machine you’ve got there. This is Doctor Copeland calling in regards to the blood work I ran after your appointment today. Everything checks out and it looks like you’re just fine. If you have any more problems, give the office a call. Take care.”

“Appointment? Today?” I thought, confused as all hell. I ran up the stairs to my room to open my laptop and see the time and date, as I was clearly disoriented. It was Saturday night. I did not go to the doctor that day… I didn’t go anywhere. I advanced down the hall and opened my bedroom door, walked in, and immediately started vomiting as I saw one of the most gruesome images of my life.

There were crosses hung upside down all over the walls. In the middle of my bed lay what looked like a cat torn almost to shreds. Written in blood on the wall opposite from me were the words “I OWN YOU”.

Doubling over in tears, I thought I was going to throw up again. Except this time, all that came out was a ball of fur.

“what can we do to make things
easier for you?’
I broke down at the drop of a hat,
at the drop of a question I couldn’t answer.
you were the dam and you opened me.
I flooded you with my salt saline.

you held me tighter than anyone else
ever could have, and you took my tears
and made them yours.
you took my hand and you treated each
broken line like prophetic, shattered glass.

the weight of your heart against mine
and the beat of our 98.6
struck me like pounding pavement.
I felt you in every breath
and you felt me in every pulse.

it was 50 degrees in January
and we shared a joint on the front
porch under blankets and ash.
as you sat next to me I watched
your chest
rise, fall, rise, fall, rise, fall
inherently syncing with mine

and for a moment I felt closer to you
than I’d ever felt before. and in a moment,
that was

gone.

you are not unlike the shadows
I see out of the corner of my eye
while I creak through the house at
night. haunting, but intriguing.
i’ve always wanted to follow you,
to know what you are.
but you’re gone once I dig deep.

slightly, subtly, you’re everywhere.
on the side of the road, in my desolate
expressions, in every handle of liquor
and every lonely cigarette.
you’re never next to me, but you always are.

I hear you in music you’ve never heard
and I feel you like bare feet on pavement,
like my heart beating against my pale white.
I taste you like hot coffee on my tongue and
I see you around every corner.

you are the most beautiful disease.

cold hands and calico jack
dwindling time, season, feeling.
unwanted, but inexplicably convenient,
the words on my tongue were poison,
spit out of my mouth like a stiff drink
at the beginning of the night
not unlike the shift in tense at the end.

crickets and the silence in the air
popped like knuckles and slid down
my throat like a harsh winter chill.
when it’s almost morning
and the dew rises, and the bees hide,
the most important things
drastically morph and

nothing makes sense.

you took my hand and you took me
for a tour; we danced up your spine
over the curves of your shoulderblades
and ended up on the delicate, stiff
white lines across your chest.
I’m a spider and you trapped me between
your gaze and the wall.

stripped of power, alone in my head
glued to you, trying to animate those
few words I’ve never really said.
I’m a spider
and you crushed me with your embrace.

your thumb grazed my peach
fuzz skin and my heart danced
the salsa, or maybe something 
slow and beautiful and rapid and
musical all at once.
and the back of your neck beckoned
to every joint and knuckle.

I drove you home on an empty road
while we talked about the good and
the bad and the good and the bad.
and when your lips touched mine for
the first time,

my chest swallowed up my heart
and yours.