The Haze
3
I can feel my heart beating a little faster already as I walk back to my room. It’s after midnight by now, but I was too afraid to try and go to sleep any earlier. I flip the switch and relax a little as light floods the room, then walk over and turn my lamp on. I’m already paranoid about trying to walk the short distance in complete darkness, and I’m definitely not about to try it now. I close the door and shut off the main light, letting the lamp’s rosy glow spread over about half of my room. Maybe it won’t come back after all.
I sit on the edge of my bed and try to take my contacts out without too much hassle. I feel the fear creeping up on me again, like I know someone’s watching me but if I turn around there will be nothing there. I take a deep breath and shrug it off as I lay down, hesitating for a second before turning off the lamp.
Nothing.
I sigh with relief and close my eyes. The fan is clicking, like it does all the time. I’ve learned to ignore it for the sake of my own sanity, but since it keeps the room from being disturbingly silent, I appreciate it right now.
Then it starts. Everything turns colder than is even possible, and against my better judgment, I peek out over the covers to see if anything’s there. A mass of darkness has taken over the corner again, blacker than night and moving enough to be alive, if just barely. A tiny inch-long razor of white appears for a split second, then vanishes before I have time to blink. It wasn’t light, but I have no way of knowing what it was.
I quickly turn over and hide beneath my pillow. Maybe it was just my imagination.
I hear sounds. Slightly disconnected and completely meaningless on their own, but I know it has to be the Haze again. A footstep. Fabric brushing against the wall. A chilling breath of laughter.
It’s here again. And I’m completely at its mercy.
I’ve always known it’s possible to touch something without putting any real pressure on it, but when it tightly grips my shoulder and freezes me in place, I feel only the pressure with nothing touching me. I close my eyes and wish it would just disappear. I don’t know why it’s started doing this to me, but all I want is for it to stop.
I feel cold where the Haze grabbed my shoulder, and the feeling quickly spreads across my back and down my arm like poison. My muscles start to twitch in random places, something I would normally find annoying but that now is out of my control to stop. It’s slowing my breathing again. I can hear the faintest whisper in my ear, but I can’t understand it because it’s too quiet, a cold breath of air directly on my brain.
Again, it all stops at once, leaving me to listen to my own heartbeat and breathe as deeply as I can. This time, though, I turn slightly and focus on that corner of my room, and against the weak, faded light coming in through the window, I swear I see it move.
I sit on the edge of my bed and try to take my contacts out without too much hassle. I feel the fear creeping up on me again, like I know someone’s watching me but if I turn around there will be nothing there. I take a deep breath and shrug it off as I lay down, hesitating for a second before turning off the lamp.
Nothing.
I sigh with relief and close my eyes. The fan is clicking, like it does all the time. I’ve learned to ignore it for the sake of my own sanity, but since it keeps the room from being disturbingly silent, I appreciate it right now.
Then it starts. Everything turns colder than is even possible, and against my better judgment, I peek out over the covers to see if anything’s there. A mass of darkness has taken over the corner again, blacker than night and moving enough to be alive, if just barely. A tiny inch-long razor of white appears for a split second, then vanishes before I have time to blink. It wasn’t light, but I have no way of knowing what it was.
I quickly turn over and hide beneath my pillow. Maybe it was just my imagination.
I hear sounds. Slightly disconnected and completely meaningless on their own, but I know it has to be the Haze again. A footstep. Fabric brushing against the wall. A chilling breath of laughter.
It’s here again. And I’m completely at its mercy.
I’ve always known it’s possible to touch something without putting any real pressure on it, but when it tightly grips my shoulder and freezes me in place, I feel only the pressure with nothing touching me. I close my eyes and wish it would just disappear. I don’t know why it’s started doing this to me, but all I want is for it to stop.
I feel cold where the Haze grabbed my shoulder, and the feeling quickly spreads across my back and down my arm like poison. My muscles start to twitch in random places, something I would normally find annoying but that now is out of my control to stop. It’s slowing my breathing again. I can hear the faintest whisper in my ear, but I can’t understand it because it’s too quiet, a cold breath of air directly on my brain.
Again, it all stops at once, leaving me to listen to my own heartbeat and breathe as deeply as I can. This time, though, I turn slightly and focus on that corner of my room, and against the weak, faded light coming in through the window, I swear I see it move.