Mutter

It could have all been a dream, or even the delusions of a fevered mind.. but what if it were true?

Last night, she came to me again. Her delicate touch puled me from my dreamless slumber. Her fingers swept the hair from my face; gently, slowly, and effortlessly. It felt as if a breeze had found its way into my bedroom. As she did so, my eyes were not yet open, but I knew exactly who was there. A hauntingly cool chill ran up my spine when I felt her moist, cold, lips pressing against the warmth of my cheek. It almost burned. I wanted to smile, but I had an irrational fear that it would cause her to leave. So I remained as still as I possibly could. 

She leaned over, leaving a trail of icy mist to my ear. Her mouth opened, and I could feel her trying so hard to form words. Her frustration grew, but still she persisted. It would have been so easy for me to give in to the want of shooting my eyes open and taking in her image. To convince her to give up, at least for tonight, but I couldn't. My lids fluttered, but they would not open. My lips quivered, and from my throat rose a soft whimper, but I didn't dare speak when she could not. 

Usually, when she visits, she doesn't stay too long. A few moments at most, if I'm lucky. This time though, she lingered. There was a desperate urgency in her presence, unlike anything I had ever experienced before. I felt her palm flatten against my arm seconds before curling her fingers to form a tight grip. Piercing through my skin, straight to the bone, she squeezed with no signs of relief. In agony, I shrieked. My instincts caused my eyes to un-clinch, and my body to jump as my hands hurried to where the pain was, in an attempt to ease it.

As strange as this tale has been so far, it is what happened next that I find the most difficult to explain. I don't know if it was shock, or something deeper, that had me forgetting about the sharp ache in my arm. Her face was unrecognizable, but somehow I still knew it was her. I tried to erase the image almost immediately, and wanted to close my eyes and pretend to be asleep again, but I couldn't. Tears began to fog my vision, but still that gruesome picture etched itself into my retinas. 

I had to do something, anything, but my mind couldn't work fast enough to make a plan. The best I could do was find something other than her face to look at. Though it was dead, for lack of a better word, her hair was still just as thick and dark as I remembered. I used to watch her brushing through the tangles, and how soft it was when she finished. My free arm extended as I used my fingers to comb through it, trying to spark that same memory into her mind, but it was to no avail. My hand became stuck, and I pulled, maybe a little too hard. With one jerk, part of her scalp peeled off, and I trembled as my curiosity dragged my eyes to look at the matted mess of hair and skin in my hand. I could hear what sounded like meat sizzling in a frying pan, before I smelled that god forsaken stench. Against my better judgment, again my eyes did wander. I wanted to scream, but somehow found the strength to contain myself. Instead I gasped, then quickly sucked in my bottom lip between my teeth. It was almost as though she were melting. Globs of flesh begin to drop onto my bed cover, and floor. 

The grip she still had on my arm suddenly became important again, as she raked her clawed hand down. "Please!" I begged her to stop, and it seemed to work. My eyes met her's and her face shifted from terrifying to unreadable; blank, distant, and cold. I leaned away from her, as her limbs dropped to her side and her spine straightened. Did I do something wrong? Why was I overwhelmed with this guilt? "I'm sorry" I whined between hurried breaths, dropping my gaze.

Sinking back into my bed, I felt heavy like I was being weighed down. I curled myself  into the fetal position, and my eyes closed softly as the pain continued rushing throughout my body. The stench burned my nostrils with every inhale, and horrible images flashed behind my eyelids, as my consciousness began to fade. Upon my cheek, I felt her moist cold lips again. Gently, she kissed and tears began to puddle on my pillow. 

When I opened my eyes again, the sun was shining through my curtain, nearly blinding me. Any traces of her visit had vanished with her. The blood, the clumps of hair and half melted flesh, even the deep gashes she made on my arm were gone. Is it strange that this made me sad? I wanted evidence that she came to me, but I didn't want to believe what I had experienced last night was true. Using only my legs, I flung my cover to the floor, then sat up and held my face in my hands; cupping them and forming them into a cradle. I waited only about a minute before deciding to go and prepare myself to start the day. And then I felt it. Inside of my arm, as if she were still grasping me tightly under my skin. Immediately I fell to my knees, and held my arm, rubbing it up to the shoulder and down again. 

Last night... she came to visit me again. That was all the proof I needed. Tonight, I will wait to see if she returns, as I will for the rest of my life, until she is finally able to speak to me. 

All I need is a mutter. 

Author's Note

Honest opinions are always appreciated.