Prisonic Fairytale (Follow My Tears part 1 of 2)

“You ever notice how much the town in this movie is like ours?” I ask while wrapping my arms above Grace’s breasts. 

She lets out a laugh and turn her head toward me. Grace was as angel’s name and she is certainly mine. I won’t lie about her physical attractiveness, and besides, it really is in the eye of the beholder. But to me, her fiery red hair caught the sun more than flowers. Her green eyes rivaled an emerald’s radiance. Her figure was a cousin between curvaceous and petite. Her smile’s potency was enough to freeze you in your tracks and say “She is wonderful.”

We are sprawled out on our white couch; she has been lying in front of me with her torso rested upon my chest. Whilst holding her and watching the movie Jaws on the television, I keep making comments about it. After laughing at the last, she responds.

“Yes I do. Like it says in the movie, if it weren’t for the tourists this town would shut down.” Grace lightly chuckles.

As the screen changes, flashing colors I bend my head down. I peck at her neck, trying to kiss ever so tenderly. She raises her arm up and rubs my hair to let me know she likes it. After I lift my head back and rest it on her shoulder, my eyes focus back on the screen.

“Remember the time we first met?” Grace curiously asks.

=============

Of course I remembered.

It was roughly four years ago. I was nineteen and she was two years older. I wanted the mirror effect: My love would be equally reflected back.

It was during the Homecoming campfire at high school. I was a senior at the time and Grace had already graduated. But, by Fate, karma or whatever have you, she decided to come anyway. I kept seeing her drift around the football field, her face coming and going like the fire’s sparks. It took my friend Ryan to get me to talk to her and to get the nerve to say something. Despite the fact that I loved to write, I couldn’t find the words then.

“My name is Grace. I was wondering would you would come over and say something.”

These were the first things she said to me, and I was instantly relieved. We talked most of the night, about our habits, our goals, our dreams. It was one of the most pleasant conversations I ever had, and the best part was, a week later I was having them all the time.

“You know what star that is?” I asked while pointing toward the starry sky.

“No, which one is that?” Grace replied as she pressed herself closer.

“It’s called Betelgeuse. It’s bigger than our sun, but you would never know since it is so far away.”

We were sitting on the black shingled roof of my old house, staring at the night sky above. I thought it would be romantic to go star gazing after we ate dinner on a date. I had told Grace I would be her “Guide to the Universe.” We had been seeing each other for over a year and everyday I was growing more attached to her. I sensed the same feeling every time I looked into her eyes.

I held her close and pointed to various stars and other things I knew, telling her the name or asking if she knew it. We saw a total of three shooting stars that night. I just loved having her resting against me; I loved the warmth she emitted.

“See that one?” I questioned, pointing to a dimly red dot.

“That is a plane.” Grace remarked.

“Oh….” (Where were you there Mr. Cosmonaut?)

We laughed for a moment after that, poking fun at my mistake. As the night grew late, she was getting ready to head home. The time felt right.

“I have one last thing to point out.” I stated while we stood up.

“What is it?” Grace asked with that wonderful smile.

“I don’t know if you had happened to notice, but there is one lying on the roof here….” I knelt down and reached for a ring.

I placed part of it under one of the shingles, allowing the opal to shimmer under the moon. Her expression told me she had no idea what I was talking about or what I was picking up. I held my place with one knee as I stared up at her with the ring. Though it was pure white from the moon, I knew she was on the verge of laughing and crying at once.

“Would you be willing to accept this star as a bond of marriage?”

=============

“Well, do you?” Grace pokes at me with a smirk.

“Yeah, it was at the Homecoming fire. You were wearing your graduation jacket and blue jeans. I was wearing a black shirt and jeans. You looked lovely then, and still do.” I smile lavishly.

We continue to watch the television. By this point, the massive white shark tore the dock down with the two men on it after taking the pot-roast they used as bait.

“That is so you and Ryan.” Grace points at the screen.

“Yeah, but Andy would have been dragged along.” I add with amusement.

Grace raises herself up, shifting around to face me. Her face is inches from my own, and I have been captivated by those green eyes. I rub my hands gently down her hips and toward her buttocks as she slides her hand back and forth on my chest in waves of tingles.

“I never want to lose you, no matter what comes.” Grace gives me a sentimental look.

“And I you.” I reply while leaning in for a kiss.

Our lips connect in a surge of passion, a surge that only seemed to grow as the months went on. Saying I loved her was an understatement. The kiss starts slow and calm, gaining speed and intensity like a flame. I’m ignoring my surroundings, until a blaring sound disturbs my ears.

Why is every time you have a moment with your lover, you’re in the middle of something or trying to concentrate on work, a phone needs to be answered? Always.

Before I even fully realize it was the phone ringing, Grace has gone to the kitchen. I can vaguely hear her talking, but judging by the tone of her voice it can’t have been too serious. I give the clock a glance: 7: 45 at night.

I recollect myself as I take a sip from my Coke, relaxing myself to watch the movie again. Though my eyes are settled on the screen’s action, my mind isn’t. I was thinking about what I would do tomorrow while Grace worked. It was my day off and I want something to do. I’m in the middle of a novel, not my first but my most precious at the moment. I have hoped to have it published and I’m on a bit of a deadline. The other things that need to be done include fixing one of the porch steps and whipping something up for dinner. I’m certainly not a master chief, but I know a thing or two.

I hear Grace’s footsteps coming toward me, and the sound of her jingling keys make my eyebrow rise.

“That was mom. Her eye prescription didn’t arrive in the mail, so I am going to go straight to the pharmacy to get it for her.” Grace explains while slipping her coat on.

Grace’s mother has Multiple Sclerosis, and as such she can barely walk. Just trying to stand in place is a struggle for her. She has her neighbor Mr. Carver get the mail and other things for her if one of us didn’t. She relies on prescription eye drops to relieve her strained and aching eyes as well. At least the pharmacy here stays open until nearly nine, and she already had some other medications. I always felt a deep sense of pity for that woman.

“Why didn’t she call sooner? I could have gotten it while I was out and about earlier.” I wonder.

“She waited most of the day until Mr. Carver got out of work. It should only take a few minutes to get that done. Why don’t you make up some popcorn and we can watch another movie when I get back?” Grace states while planting a kiss.

“Alright, love you babe.” I say, even though she wouldn’t be gone long.

How wrong I was.

==============

Smoke heaves outward from my mouth and languidly vanishes into the cool night air. I’m the only smoker in this relationship and refuse to smoke indoors. I’m trying to kick the habit, and amazingly, I’m starting to lower my count total.

I am sitting on the deck of the porch, overlooking the forest that surrounded the log style cabin. It wasn’t in the middle of nowhere in Maine, but it was a short drive into the woods from the rest of town. I liked the peace and quiet, so my father and friends helped me build this place about five years ago.

I’m brushing my ruffled brown hair back as I inhale another breath of smoke. Upon release, I rub my face and know that there is something else to do tomorrow: shave. I hate how it seemed to need doing every other day.

The other thing I felt was a patch without hair on my eyebrow. I already knew what it was, a scar from childhood. I had fallen and smashed my forehead on a table’s edge. I don’t remember it, but I was told I cried for a millisecond and passed out. Ever since then, that spot has never grown hair.

I stop reminiscing and squash the cigarette in a nearby ash tray. I yawn while opening the door and enter the house. I walk through the kitchen and peer at the clock: 9: 47. Roughly two hours. Maybe Grace was talking with her mother, or perhaps something came up. Whatever it was, I am slightly worried, but disregard it at that moment. I tell myself it’s probably nothing, she’ll be back right off.

I pass through the kitchen’s green countertops, wooden cupboards and black appliances. Most of the house was of wood, namely because it was a log cabin in a sense.

A bowl of half eaten popcorn rests on the coffee table in front of the television. I stop gorging on it when I noticed how much was gone. I sit down on the couch once more, but not even a minute goes by and I’m up again. I pace to the front door, still worried about Grace. The drive to the pharmacy only took roughly ten minutes and the drive from there to her mother’s even shorter. She should have been back way before now. Hell, even if she stopped at a store it shouldn’t have taken over two hours.

It sounds ridiculous to get worked up over it, but she is my wife, I love her more than I could ever convey and I didn’t want anything to happen to her. It also wasn’t like her to be really late either. I reach for the cordless phone near the fridge in the kitchen and start to dial her cell phone.

Ring.59

Ring.60

Ring.61

“Hey, you have reached Grace Peas….”

Damn, voice mail. Grace, what was going on? Could there have been an accident?

The message cuts away for a moment, filling with the sound of a connection.

“Is that you AJ?” Grace answered and asked.

“Yeah, I was wondering what you were doing. I was worried since it seemed to be taking awhile….” I stated with a sigh of relief.

“Oh, I got held up at the pharmacy for one thing. And I am going to stay the night here with her, she has been having trouble sleeping because of her legs, back and eyes. I am going to take the day off from work so I can run her over to the Hospital to get checked out.” Grace explained.

I’m relieved to know she is alright, but something is a bit off. Her tone is different, I can’t really place it. Maybe she is just stressed.

“Oh, okay. Tell her I hope she feels better. Sorry I got so worked up over things…” I replied while shaking my head.

“It’s fine. I’ll be back in the late morning to early afternoon. I’ll see you then babe.” Grace blows a kiss into the phone.

“Alright, I love you and kisses back. See you in the morning.” I end the call with a much needed weight removed.

With the reassurance that she is alright, I decided to go to bed. I walk through the kitchen and down the hallway that leads to the bedroom, study and bathroom. Our bedroom was a decent size. It was made up of magenta carpeting and wooden stain finished wall panels. A queen size bed, matching cedar dressers, a big mirror and a large closet full of clothes made up the biggest part of the room. I strip down to my boxers and sit on my side of the bed. Even though Grace isn’t here, it would have feel odd to lay on her side. I lift up the blue comforter and stretch out on my back, feeling my muscles settle in thanks. It takes me a bit to fall asleep. Even though I know Grace is fine and with her mother, I can’t kick the cold feeling in my chest.

============

It’s 7:52 the next day and I rise early, despite knowing it is my day off. I want to get things done. I stand up in a state of bed head and dreariness as I slip some clothes on.

Coffee sounds good. The hell with shaving and fixing my hair at the moment. It can wait I thought.

I walk back out into the kitchen and take in the morning’s white light. The sounds of birds singing and the quieting of the crickets are a welcome chorus. I turn the coffee machine on, hearing it start up with a sputter.

I feel my lower abdomen recoil and warn me that I need to go to the bathroom. Complying, I head in and turn the light on, somewhat blinded by the pure white tiling as the door closes behind me. I stand in front of the toilet and feel the pressure in my side start to fade. I hear a shifting noise and became startled out of my tired state. Could it be Grace? How did she go through the kitchen without a sound?

I come out of the bathroom with a quickened pace and a light grin of anticipation as I peer into the kitchen and living room.

Except, there’s no Grace.

There is nobody but myself. I had heard something, or perhaps I thought I did. I shake my head and decide that some early morning brew will help push me out of the dream world. I lift the pot up and pour it into a generic white mug. I sit down at the counter and blow on the black liquid. I continue until I feel it safe for my taste buds, and take a much needed sip. I notice it tastes a little bitter. It shouldn’t have been, the grounds are new and the coffee appears normal. I continue to drink off it regardless, slugging it down.

After I finish I wash it out and prepare for the coming day. I crave a cigarette and since I had to fix the porch’s third step, I would be outdoors anyway. I sprint to the living room and grab the smokes off the table with my lighter, but as I do I pause for a moment.

Whoa, that was unnerving. My heart just skipped a beat.

My chest feels like it’s floating and yet, heavy in some unexplainable combination. I try to calm my breathing by taking long breaths. I think it jumped me more than anything, but…

Jesus! My head! It pounds as though it were a bass drum. My eyes seem like they are going to burst from the pressure. 83

I fall in a mass of dead weight, unable to brace myself since my arms are rigidly wrapped around my skull. It hurts like nothing I’ve ever felt before. If a migraine was severe, this was the forgotten big brother that had a temper. I’m incapable of opening my eyes; the pain far too intense. My stomach feels like it if filled with rocks, my head is of anguish and my heart bounces with lunaciy, determined to break the chains holding it in place.

What the f**k was wrong with me?

It was like being kicked in the head by a relentless assaulter. My vision moves inward and outward in a vortex whenever I attempt to open my eyes. The once insignificant ticking of the clock becomes a thunderous booming and the world around me darkens. The misery begins to subside and I’m glad for it. That however, doesn’t last, as I am gripped by uneasiness once I notice the shape my home is in.

The furniture, doors, windows, everything of the sort remains the same. But outside is completely absent of color; it was like watching a black and white movie. The light of the sun is gone, replaced by an endless sheet of darkness. No sounds comes to my ears either. It is as if the world had frozen before me…as if time itself has ceased.

A flash fills the left side of the room and I look to see that the computer monitor has come on. I hesitantly walk over while my eyes bounce all around the room in nervous anticipation. Just pure white, nothing else. But once I start to move away, a series of words appear.

G is for Gone.

R is for Ravage.

A is for Astray.

C is for Consternation.

E is for Effusion.

What the hell?

My mind is pulled away due to a bizarre sound echoing from the kitchen. As I gain more ground it grows louder. Labored breathing, somewhat nasally heaving is the best way to describe it. Of all places, it is coming from the floor…underneath a vent cover. I peer down into it but see nothing. I remember that I had grabbed the lighter so I flick it on and hold it near. My eyes are still null to what’s down there, so I pull the covering off to get closer. My chest throbs from my heart’s quivering as I press my face against the hole. The flame from the lighter reveals a compressed and bent body of pale and red skin. I let out a gasp and fall backward with scrambling hands of panic.

Before I can understand what’s going on, above where the ceiling fan should be in the living room begins to drip. The ceiling itself is melting, hitting the floor in exploding white drops. A large bubble materializes, crafting the visage of a person. Despite gravity, it drops gradually until the feet reach the floor. A being of pure white matter, but the screech it bellows from inconceivable vocal chords tell me it isn’t peaceable. It comes toward me without eyes or even a nose. It’s mouth opens in a gaping hole of dripping paint. I slide to my feet and pull myself up with the countertop, running for the bathroom in a mad haste. The slimy footsteps of the creature are close behind as I slam the door and turn toward the window. I run toward it, barely noticing that the faucet spewing muddy water that had covered the floor. My feet lose their grip and I fly into the air for a brief moment as my head crashes into the tub’s side with a violent thud. The last thing I remember is the brief moment of pain that came before everything got dark.

============

Though my eyes are shut, the brightness of the day shines through my eyelids. I open and close them within an instant; the sunlight is too strong. That and my head hurts like hell. I touch above my brow and my fingers roll over a sore lump. I jump up quickly after my eyes adjust and remember the creature from before. But when I glance toward the entrance to the room the door is wide open; everything appears normal. I walk out in a daze of confusion and stiffness, wondering just what in the hell happened to me.

It couldn’t have been a dream. The bump on the head confirms that. How long had I been out?

The clock confirms that it is five hours later. Evidence in the kitchen sink further proved that what took place was not a dream. The mug I had drank coffee out of rests in it. Upon that notion, I check my pockets for the cigarettes….and sure enough, there they are. The vent I had examined draws my eyes toward it; that’s right where my lighter is. I bend down to get it and peer down the vent hole with caution once more. Nothing but dust bunnies and dirt. Thank Christ, I lightly whisper aloud.

Is something wrong with my head? Do I have some kind of disease, tumor or…?

The morbid landscape that had been my home shook me to the core. It was like it was real and yet not, like a dream of lucidity. I decide the best thing to do is to see a doctor within the next few days, especially if it happens again. Then a more pressing thought  comes to the front.

Grace still isn’t home.

I pick up the phone once more and dial her cell. This time it forwards straight to voice mail. My worries getting to me, and wanting to get away from the house, I walk outside and down the porch to my jeep.

I turn the key and let it rumble for a moment before I back out and away from the driveway. I speed up the dirt road, leaving a cloud of dust in my wake. As I come around a sharp and blind curve, another car comes at me. My arms grip the wheel away from the car, nearly hitting its side. I hear the driver yell out what’s more than likely something along the lines of “a*****e.“

The accent of the tires change as I hit the main road’s pavement. Grace’s mother’s house is down the road a ways. Most of the ride is a blur; my thoughts are too greedy at the moment to afford me true focus. Between my episode at the house and Grace not being around, I’m flustered and bedraggled.

A long yellow house similar to that of a trailer is my destination. Around the house are lilacs and crab apple trees that make provide a serene pleasantry. I get out of the jeep and run up the concrete steps that lead to a weather worn deck. I knock and wait for a response; I got one. I enter to see Grace’s mother, Sadie, sitting at the kitchen table. I give her a smile with a hello. She asks me to sit but I stand, telling her I’ll only be a moment.

“When did Grace leave?” I ask.

“What do you mean?” Sadie replies with a quick shake of her head.

“She told me she stayed here last night. I called her on her cell….”

“Grace was never here, though she was supposed to be! I was waiting for my medication when Oliver, the head pharmacist came with it. He said Grace had came in and asked for it, but she needed to wait for it to be processed. She never came back in.”

“Wait, so she wasn’t here at all last night?”

“That’s right. Why did she tell you…”

“Get on the phone and notify the police right away! Tell them to meet me at the pharmacy. Something is very wrong!”

I dash out the door before even properly explaining myself, somewhat rudely. I know Sadie will call them and ask them to speak to me. I have to talk to Oliver as well and see if he knows anything. I wanted the very idea out of head:

Grace is missing.

I leap into the jeep, leaving as quickly as I came. I’m speeding all the way to the middle of the rural town. The large white building of the pharmacy comes into view and floor into the parking lot. The sliding doors barely open as I pace through them, nearly bumping into an elderly man. I mutter a swift apology before running to the back of the store where the pharmacy section lies. A man a few years older than me stands behind the counter with a white coat. He looks confused, likely due to my manic speed. He glances at me when I approach with concerned eyes.

“Are you Oliver?” I’m quick to the point.

“No, he is out for the day, I’m Heath. Can I help you?” Heath asks while adjusting his coat.

“Did you see a woman here last night with red hair, green eyes? She comes in quite often to get a prescription for her mother. Her name is Grace, my wife.” I question him.

“I think I know who you are talking about. She came in last night I believe. Oliver told her it would take a bit to get it together so she walked around the store. We were closing up and Oliver didn’t need me, so I left.” Heath explains while pointing around the store.

“Damn. Any idea when Oliver will be in?”

“He has to come in tomorrow. You could try then. Sorry I wasn’t more helpful.” Heath frowned as he looked away.

I turn around and walk right back out of the store with more questions than answers. When I enter the afternoon air, two policemen in blue walk up to me. I can’t see their eyes thanks to the sunglasses, but I know who they are. Officers Gavin and Morton, good cops. Well, good but bored cops in this small county.

“I would ask how things have been, but by the sound of Sadie’s voice…” Morton sighs.

“Grace is missing. Gone since last night, she was supposed to…”

“Sadie already told us about that. What else happened?” Gavin cut me off as he hauls out a PDA.

“Well, before she left we were watching a movie and just spending the evening together. She left to come here for Sadie and that is the last time I saw her.” I state while rubbing my brow.

“Has she called you at all?” Morton inquires.

“Yes and no. I called her cell last night and she told me she was at Sadie’s. But Sadie said that Grace never showed up.” I throw my hand into the air from frustration.

“That sounds suspicious but we can try and locate the cellphone. We will also scout around the area for the next few days to see if she or her vehicle turns up.” Gavin elucidates.

“Do you have a photo with you?” Morton points toward my pocket.

“Yeah, in my wallet. Here.” I reply while pulling the small photo out.

“We will spread some posters around. In this town, it shouldn’t take long.“ Gavin finishes writing on the PDA.

“Please, just find Grace. I am sick with worry and now fright. I won‘t rest until I know she is safe.” I look away with a saddened stare.

“We will keep you posted. And AJ, don’t worry too much. I am sure it is nothing serious.” Morton tries to reassure me.

I certainly hope so…..

I watch them drive away, wondering if I should have mentioned the incident earlier. I’m caught between the worry for my wife and myself. I just drift off into my mind, not caring what people did around me. I stand in that parking lot as the cars whiz by, the people pass and chatter, the dogs bark, birds chirp and world moved while mine pauses. 138

Dear God, help me.

=================

It is night by the time I make it home. I just drove around looking around for Grace with no luck. I even asked some acquaintances but still got the same “no..” I don’t want to just stand by idly. If I knew there was a chance I may see her, I had to take it, hell even a clue. I’m in the kitchen gazing out the window. I have every intention of setting back out tomorrow to continue the search.

The phone rings, jumping me a bit before I get it. Officer Morton is on the line. I take a deep anxiety riddled breath before I answer.

“AJ? We have some information. A woman who was walking her dog saw Grace the night she vanished.”

“What? What did she see?”

“She stated that Grace was with another man. She described him as portly with brushed back blonde hair, glasses and in decent clothing.”

“Why would Grace….?”

“AJ…This is a personal, hard question and I hate to ask it. Did you get the impression Grace was having an affair?”

“No, I highly doubt it. This is the only time something like this has happened. I‘ve never had any reason to be suspicious.”

“We are looking into this suspect. If you come across him, notify us on the double. We want to question him, considering he was the last person to be seen with her.”

“I will do that….”

“And AJ, we may want to consider that…she….”

I know what he’s going to say: Was kidnapped. I don’t want to hear it.

“I…I know.”

I say goodbye and sit on the couch, staring at a photo of Grace. I miss her, but most of all I’m nervous. What if something terrible happened? I hate thinking of that, but my mind refuses to let it be. Who was this man she was with? Grace would never have cheated, never. So who is he and what does he know? I only pray that she…..

I had gotten a drink of green tea from the fridge but had yet to take a sip. I’m getting thirsty due to my constant smoking out of edginess, so I take a heaping gulp. Again, I find the taste to be off. I continue to look at Grace’s photograph, my eyes fixate on it. I turn away to take another sip and when I glace back, my ears fill with an agonizing scream.

Grace’s face rains blood and I throw it out of disbelief and disgust. My head begins to throb again and my eyes are in the grip of a vise. Collapsing to my knees, I let out a wail of agony. This time I force my eyes open and immediately regret that I had. The walls are breaking away but the cracks themselves resemble a pulsating vein. The windows are covered over by flesh, the ground beneath me a bloodied rust and the doors are faces of open mouths. Portraits on the wall gush with blood and the furniture becomes outlandish shapes. Scratching noises come out from underneath the floor, and from above, the sound of stomping.

Reality has become a living, breathing nightmare.

The pain dissolves as quickly as it started but promises to return. I look around at this once familiar area that was now a crude image of itself. I tremble as I lessen my pace and take my time surveying everything. I’m masking the fear that another creature could appear, and this time I may not escape so easily; or quite as unscathed.

I want to burst outside, but imagine that it was far worse. I stray toward the kitchen with a rapid heartbeat. As I do so, I see words have been scrawled all over the countertop with a heavy, frantic hand. Just words though unintelligible. I begin to wonder if they are even there at all, or if this is all just my imagination.

“AJ!”

“AJ!!”

“AJ!!!”

I shake into the air with alarm; someone is calling my name. It sounds like it’s originating from the bedroom. Wide eyed, I follow the raspy voice through the hall to the room, pushing open the now gaping mouth of a door. The room is completely empty….save for the f*****g mirror. Transfixed and drawn to it, like a trance that forced me, I approach it. My image is not mimicking my movements; instead it just stands there staring at me, lifeless and cold. It just gazes at me with this emotion I can’t decipher.

In a swift swoop, it shoves its fingers underneath the eyes, tearing the skin forward. Muscles begin to show along with parts of the bone. I try to scream but cannot force one out. The image ravages and tears away at the flesh in a storm of blood and sinew until it explodes in an upsurge of gelantenous red.

“Get out of here!”

In a state of urgency, I slam through the hallway, my body weaves around in panic like a confused animal. The door shuts behind me, the mouth’s teeth clamp up and down with ferocity. I run into the study to see that the room was empty too. My bookshelves are gone along with the desk that I want to take cover under. I press myself into the corner and cower like a trepidation filled child. I just want it to all go away.

I stare in horror. The walls begin to liquefy and the shapes of heads poke through like the monster from before. They stop and turn toward me with blank slates for faces. They just glare at me, doing nothing more but laugh and giggle at the sight of a young man trembling with terror. I grab my ears and plead with them to stop.

As if they had listened, the chortling ceases. I don’t dare to open my eyes; I don’t want to know what was going on. I’m trying to find a secure place in my mind that I could hide in, hide until something killed me. Crickets whistle and sing for the night, and I take it for a ruse. But it continues as I opened my eyes to see that the kitchen light shining down the hall. Everything is the way it should have been. I’m wedged between the large bookshelf and desk that makes up most of the room. How is this possible? Even conceivable?

This can’t be some kind of medical condition. No…this is something else. Something far more sinister.

==================167

I refuse to sleep. F**k it, I think.

I’m too stricken with worry for Grace to even think about it. And I’m petrified to go back to that hell I have visited twice. I await until morning came before moving about more freely. I refuse to drink anything other than water. It seemed like the dread started after I drank things that were in the open.

Jesus, that sounds paranoid.

It’s time to find out who this man is. Why Grace was with him, and most importantly, why had she vanished afterward.

My body aches from the lack of sleep and food, but my mind is too determined to find out what happened to my wife. Out of the bedroom, through the kitchen and outside once more I stride. The morning fog clouds most of the surrounding forest and my jeep. I can’t help but compare the scenery to how empty and dreary my life is becoming. I jump back inside and leave the house again. I drive through town, my eyes hoping to come upon the person Morton had described. I knew nobody in the town that looked like that, so I wonder if he is a tourist. If so, I may be too late: the guy could already be long gone.

The park proves to be a failure; the sidewalks hold nothing and the local bars have little information. I enter the banks, stores and everything else I can think of in hopes of confronting this man. I ask some of the locals and people I know if they had a seen a man similar to the description. Next to nothing turns up, save for a few “I thinks” or “I thoughts” and I’m beginning to feel lost. I rest at a local restaurant for a coffee and breakfast sandwich to ease my body. I sit outside on a bench and watch people come and go. I want that man to show, I want to find the b*****d.

“AJ Peaslee?”

I look around for a moment, unsure of who said it. I lturn to my right to see a husky man in a midnight green overcoat and nice black pants standing over me. His glasses reflect the sun and his face a round, dimpled ball. He has a wedding band on his finger and looks well, like a normal person I suppose. But there‘s something not quite right, that feeling your gut tries to give you.

“I am the man you have been looking for. Name is Carnby.” Carnby introduces himself with a guileful voice.

That sentence springs me to my feet.

“You were the last person to see my wife….what happened to her?” I firmly press.

“Come with me and I will explain everything in full detail. Even your walks in the dark plane.” Carnby’s voice cunningly continues.

How did he know that? Just who was this man?

“Is Grace…..alright?” I nearly choke on the words from fear and anger.

“Just come with me. I offer the answers you seek.” Carnby callously replies.

I can’t trust him. He knows too much, and despite his unassuming appearance, there is a grim air about him. I know if I try to call the police he would go away and I would never know the truth. I have to know…..

“Fine. Where are we going?”

“Your home. I assure you, you will be safe.”

I couldn’t give a damn. Just tell me what happened to my Grace!

“You‘ll know all as soon as we get there.”

Taking this man, who may have done something terrible to my wife, with me is certainly out of character. But he has all the secret keys to the doors of truth. I’m going to be prepared though; I will keep my distance in the house and close in next to kitchen knives. If he tries anything it’ll be his last move. I felt safe in the jeep because if he pulled anything, we would both be in an accident.

As we drive down the road back to my home, Carnby begins muttering about various things. Gibberish about the depths a human can take and what lies down the rabbit hole. I listen but don’t respond. I’m focused on the road and what may lie in store for me; and what I may find out.

We turn into the driveway and I let Carnby exit the vehicle first. I want to keep a close on him. I make him enter the house before me and allow him to sit at the counter, never taking my sight away from him. He casually sits there and acts as if this was not unusual in any way. He asks if he can light a cigarette and I allow it, distrusting him completely. He looks around the home for a moment, and I get the impression he has seen it before, there’s an odd familiarity shimmering beneath his glasses.

“You are unsure what is causing the world you know to change into something unbelievable. I can tell you what it is.” Carnby blows the smoke through a fiendish grin like fog through a picket fence.

“Go on.” I reply while keeping my back firm against the counter, and within arm‘s reach of the knives.

“It is a drug named Dramamine, or Dimenhydrinate. It is a deliriant with the potential for high potency. In large doses it induces hallucinations, with the visuals seeming quite real. Many people see monstrosities, hear their names being called or inflict themselves with imaginary wounds. In a refined form, the hallucinations go even beyond that.” Carnby reveals a vial of clear liquid.

“Where are you going with this? Did you put…..?” I pause; the answer barrels in like a freight train.

“I only wanted you to experience what Grace did.”

If I am to take that the way I believe I was……

“…….Is she dead?” My chest tightens as the words drifted into the air.

Carnby says nothing and just puffs off his cigarette. I cannot believe the way this man is acting. It’s as if he was not bothered by his actions in the slightest, like it’s just another habit or day to him. Carnby is licentious the entire duration. A deep tension between us grows and all I know at this moment is I want to attack him. But I don’t know if he has a weapon of some kind. I once more think about trying to phone the police, but how could I get away with it? If I went for the phone, he would either run or attempt to kill me.

What the hell should I do? He hadn’t answered me yet either: is Grace alive? And if she is, where is she? I can’t risk not knowing for sure.

“If you want to know the full extent of what happened, you will have to take the drug once more.” Carnby rises to his feet as he sneakily tugs at something from his pocket.

“Like hell I will. I‘m not playing your game anymore. Where the f**k is my wife?!” I retorted, keeping an eye on his hands.

Carnby takes one final drag of the smoke, inhaling it deeply. Before I even registered he has put it out, he’s at the other side of the counter and standing before me. He grabs my shoulders, trying to muscle me down. I resist with an elbow to the chest that sees my release. I go for the knife collection and clutch the butcher knife. Before I get to turn around, I’m sharply hit in the back and I drop the knife with a groan. A cloth wraps over my face, tightly held. It’s wet and the fumes nauseating. I know what it is, and what’s coming as I cease struggling with every gasp for oxygen. It only takes a few breaths to induce the chaos once more.

===================

“Welcome home.”

Carnby has bound me to one of the stools. My arms wrapped in an extension cord that curls over my lap and around the stool’s legs. I attempt to fight my way free but I know it was no good. The kitchen is as it was before; of rust, flesh and blood. Carnby himself has even undergone a sort of transformation. His body remains the same, but he’s more like a silhouette. Entirely black, except for round, twinkling white eyes and grayish hands. He’s just standing there with a devilish smirk, getting a joy from this twisted series of events he‘s orchestrated. The butcher knife is now in his hands.

“I saw Grace at the pharmacy. I was sitting in the parking lot waiting for a chance to strike. Her red hair, luscious curves and green eyes were like a rose in a field of wheat. She stood out and that makes her a wonderful chance.” Carnby wickedly explains as he toys with the knife.

“You f*****g b*****d.” It’s all that comes to mind from the hurricane of fury I feel.

“I am not done yet. I saw her come out of the store and I approached. I acted like I was a lost tourist. I told her that I was looking for the town of Gorham, and that I had a map in my car she could mark. Mistakenly, she followed and I let her mark the area on the hood of my car. I grabbed her by the mouth and hit her over the head with my baton. I came back to dispose of her vehicle and then the night truly began. She was in the basement of my home for six hours of endless pill and vial feeding. How I wish I could have seen her visions. I even forced her to call you. I must express my gratitude, she was a wonderful actress.” Carnby‘s tone grows perverse.

I want to cry, my eyes want to pour out until nothing is left. But the rage in me holds it back, leaving me in a shamble of emotion.

“Why?” I don’t even think it, it just comes out.

“I wanted to see how far I could go. I wanted to know how diabolical and evil I could be. I used to work at that very same pharmacy, and that is where I discovered the wonders of deliriants and dissociatives. All I am doing is giving you the tools to enter the true pits of the mind, the bowels of true fear. You get to see a whole new world, one that is of my infernal domain. And as for both of you, you were just the people I selected. There is nothing special about you. A victim of chance, as it were.” Carnby perfidiously points out.

I keep on trying to wiggle out of the cord. I has loosened it some, but it’s still wrapped tightly.

I have to act fast; I have to get out of it before he….

“The hallucinations should wear off soon. But, before they do, I am going to send you to a place where they never end…..”

Carnby is walking toward me with the butcher knife I dropped. It appears larger than it actually was, and I shiver at the thought of what was coming. I expand my arms and legs to their full strength, hoping that the cord will stretch. Carnby waltzes over in a sort of dance with the blade, his mouth nearly watering at the idea of my throat being slashed. He’s inches from me now, and I take my chance. Using my weight, I make the stool tip forward, smashing into Carnby as we both hit the floor. I begin to jump and thrash in desperation; the cord begins to free it‘s hold. Carnby growls with annoyance as he reaches for the knife and I’m finally unbound from the chair.

He clasps it and I’m behind him, he spins around with it causing me to halt. Our bodies collide and we are frozen there. I look into his gleaming white eyes, knowing that the true murderer of my wife is here, not in reality. I glance down to see the knife is covered in blood that slowly seeps down…

From Carnby’s abdomen.

His body falls to the floor below lifeless. I back away in shock, sliding down the side of the counter, my eyes never look away from him. Whatever is in him twitches as it leaves, and I fold up into a sort of ball. I weep in mixed tones of anger, sadness and loneliness.

Even though this world will fade, my world will be forever gray, feeling like I am caged in a dream. The light of my life has been stolen, the devil killed my angel, I was trapped and traversed the land of the damned.

It was a Prisonic Fairytale.

CONTINUED IN FOLLOW MY TEARS.

Author's Note

This is a very old write but one I've been told often is one of my best. What do you think?

Reviews

[D Connolly]

Hot damn! Man, that was intense! I was completely drawn in and so nervous! That dirty scoundrel Carnby! Poor Grace! I can't wait to read the 2nd part

[Jack Necron (Aubrey Jack Peaslee)]

I'm glad to hear that. I had originally written this to be a stand alone but a few friends suggested I pen a second part. Thank you for the kind review and I'll have part 2 up soon!

[D Connolly]

If it were purely sci-fi, I could almost see this on the show Black Mirror or Tales from the Dark Side. It reminded me a little bit of this video game I used to play, then they made it into a movie... Oh why can't I think of it right now??? OMG it's right on the tip of my brain!!!! I hate that. Anyway, yes part 2 please. Oh this is gonna drive me nuts

[D Connolly]

Silent Hill!

[Jack Necron (Aubrey Jack Peaslee)]

I've never seen Black Mirror but I liked Darkside! I miss that show and The Outer Limits. That's spot on because Silent Hill and H.R. Giger's artwork were all inspiration for the "nightmare" in the story. I had started writing a dark fantasy first using it but decided to go with a modern setting. Oh and the second half is up now, sorry for the delay.