Follow My Tears (Prisonic Fairytale P2)

The second half of Follow My Tears. I suggest reading that first, as this may be very confusing without.

“Every human has a heart beating in their chest. Despite this, it is not entirely alive. One key component is missing and for some, it is never found. If you have it and lose it, describing the feeling is unachievable. A hole where your heart once was is what remains.”

I’m unable to recall how much time I have been sitting here in my despair. My head tucked between my legs for so long that it begins to ache from the blood rush. The sides of my jeans are a darker shade of blue from tear absorption and my brown hair in shambles from gripping it in agony. Moments speed through my mind; a chaotic slideshow of macabre:

Grace vanished.
I searched and searched.
I didn’t discover the truth.
It found me.
A man named Carnby abducted her.
Grace was dead, I knew it.
Carnby had ensured I’d taken hallucinogens in various ways.
I entered a world of flesh, blood, sinew and bone.
Unimaginable terrors resided there.
It was some sick game to him and we were the pawns.
Carnby and I fought.
I killed him.
And here I am, alone and without a soul to call my own.

My eyes have been closed for a prolonged period and upon opening, they react accordingly. As I wipe the tears away and try to recollect myself I take a look around. Home, I know this is my home. But everything’s wrong, very wrong. Walls of pulsating flesh, dirt of ground bone and burned tissue, objects crafted of random body parts and other things I wish not to know.

A nightmare world…the hallucination.  

Why has it lingered? Could the effects have been extended this final time? I stand to my feet bewildered at the surroundings. This doesn’t make sense. I look toward the ground on my left expecting to see carnby’s body….

And it’s not there.

Instead there’s a blood trail leading out of the house and probably far away by now. Carnby survived? The b*****d….the killer of my wife has scurried away. As if pulled by an unseen force, I walk out of the house and into the “world” outside.

My God.

Ash blows around by a dark breeze through and around my body, as a metallic banging resounds throughout the area. Grass of veins, trees of dripping tar, clouds of smog and rocks of lifeless eyes make up the world I once knew. A dark plane this is, the negative world…the evil that lies on the other side of the positive. Raindrops splatter on my clothes until I hold my hand out to catch one. The water is orange, rusty and gelatin like in substance. I know not of Hell, but I imagine this is it.

Entranced in thought I become, unsure of where to go or what to do. I do not know if all of this was even real, perhaps I have imagined everything leading up until this point and I’m lying dead or in a coma somewhere; my brain weaving an unintelligible vision.

But if it was true….Grace is gone. I discovered the truth but now it will haunt me until the day I am laid to rest and beyond. What good will it bring me to hunt down Carnby? It’s too late, far too late. I failed. It’s that simple. So entranced am I, that I pay little heed to the fading world around me.

I think her to be forever lost. The light of my life, my angel...her wings viciously torn from her body by a man testing the limits of his volatile psyche. Here I am, trapped in this world of flesh, iron rain and stolen dreams. As the hallucination fades like a dripping canvas something occurs to me: He never said he killed her. It’s at this critical moment I hear her voice whisper:

“Follow my tears.”

I jolt as I desperately look around for the voice’s origin. It was Grace, my heart knew it was. Where did it come from? A person’s voice can’t be heard if they are not present…or telepathically…right?

Vigor consumes me. I know not if it was a trick of the mind but it’s giving me hope. Grace could still be alive…she could still be saved.

That is all I need. I set forth to find my angel; pull her out of the seeping darkness and into the radiance of the light. But what did she mean? Follow her tears? I have to find Carnby’s place of residence…but how can I do that? I don’t know where he lives and since he has apparently survived I can’t check for clues…

Oh no…

Carnby can go and kill her now if she does live still. Images of a blade shimmering through the shadow toward Grace fill my head while I try to understand where I should start and what she meant.

Reality had set back in before me; not a trace of the nightmare remained. I am struck by an idea:

The Police Station. If Carnby had any kind of record, they could perhaps give me a lead as to where he could be. Problem there is they aren’t going to just tell me about the guy. It’s still worth trying though.

It also occurs to me at the moment that my car is still downtown and Carnby had taken off with his. My eyes are pulled toward Grace’s white Ford Taurus in the driveway. As I walked toward it I’m confused…how did it get here? As I approached I saw a note had been tucked underneath the wind shield.

It’s from a towing company. That’s right, Grace had still been parked at the pharmacy when she was abducted….so her car would have still been there. Someone must have sent it back considering it has been a few days since this started and the police already searched it.

I’m quick to jump into the car and begin looking around. Nothing seems out of order or misplaced. The glove box is filled with napkins, hand lotion, lipstick and other random items. A cigarette tray holds nothing but a discarded piece of candy and upon the backseat rests a coat hanger. Nobody has gotten into the vehicle from what I can see. I start it, tearing up the dirt as I speed out of the driveway.

I’m still unable to get it out of my head…follow my tears? It could have been just my mind confused from the hallucination by it seemed so real….And some part of me knows it is; something deeper than a gut feeling.

I lose grip upon it as my mind proceeds to deal with another problem. My head is pounding and feels heavy…like when you are extremely exhausted or hung-over. The drug Carnby has been “feeding” me must have played hell with my brain. The cars speeding past me blur hazily and the lines in the road crawl despite driving at 40 miles per hour. I don’t care what becomes of me, so long as I know Grace is safe and Carnby meets justice.

I pull up near the back of the police station, trying to gather my wits before I walk in. A great wailing fills my ears to the point where I fall to a knee in agony, clutching my head from the pain; squinting and straining so hard my teeth hurt and arms tremble.

It’s happening again.

I have no desire to open my eyes…but I know I have to. I do not want to see the horrid visage around me but accept it’s unavoidable. And sure enough, the dark world has taken over once more. The station now crafted entirely from a substance I can only describe as muscle and the sky an inky, ever shifting smog of monochrome. Coagulated blood snow wisps downward and pavement of hard, gnarled steel grate constructs this landscape.

The nightmare has arisen without the drug…I have not drank anything in the time I’ve awake and that’s where the source has been, or at least partially. This is also the first time happening in public. So how did it without the hallucinogen? I’m suddenly very puzzled…and very frightened.

That cold feeling that grips your body, makes your hand stand on end and your mind more alert grips me. I have never, never had this happen outside the walls of my own home.  Will I see people as themselves or as some ghastly creature from the imagination of some horror author? I don’t allow my eyes to stay focused upon one object, I shift around and around keeping them on everything around me. This place is treacherous…

The door knob to the station is of a pink slime that causes me to retch as I twist and push the door open. The lobby is a wide open space now occupied by veins that grow and devour every chair, desk and wall like neglected vines. It isn’t until I step forward that I realize the once patterned tile floor has become coated in milky oil rippling like water. Every step gives the impression that I’m not touching ground and will fall into the abyss. A deep breath I take, stepping reluctantly into this place.

I keep telling myself that this is just a twisted version of what reality I know. I can still possibly gather some information here. I notice that one of the back offices holds a series of cabinets, no doubt with case files and other related materials. That is the best place to start.

I pull out shelf after shelf, digging through the names of each and hoping the one I sought will pop up. One cabinet down. Another flurry of folder searching and another cabinet down. Nothing…has Carnby never been caught? No prior offenses?

That’s when I find it.

Keith Carnby.

He has been caught for minor things. Speeding tickets, loitering; nothing major. A photo of him is enclosed as well as an address: 12 Wiscasset Road. I know the road but never really had reason to go down it.

The humidity in here causes a drop of sweat to snake down my forehead. I wipe it away, proceeding to walk out of the office when I catch something odd on the hand I used.

A blood stain…that wasn’t sweat on my forehead…

I slowly turn back around, my heart careening in and out as I look toward the ceiling. A misshapen man clings tightly to the veins above with four arms fused to his crooked body. His eye sockets filled with dozens of eyes that form a twitching, ever moving blob. No bottom jaw can be seen, a heavy looking plate of torn metal has taken it’s place instead.

It’s aware of my presence, waiting for me to make a move. My only hope is to escape the way I came. I could lock myself in a room and hope the creature would eventually leave, or perhaps find reach an exit. I slide my foot backwards to which the creature snarls. Another step back aggravates it further, it leaps toward me whilst spinning itself in midair to land on the ground below.

“Run you idiot!” The voice in my head frantically screams.

I slip on the oil below as I try to dash away, my shoes sliding in a fury of gripless panic. The creature crawls toward me with its gaping maw wide open awaiting the human flesh it hopes to taste. My feet finally create some traction and I break free from the darkness below as the creature wails, frantically speeding toward me. I race to the nearest door, the bathroom. The knob rotates agonizingly slow, refusing to spin faster. The creature slows its pace with the belief that I’m now trapped. As my teeth grit and my arms shake with strain I will the knob forward, swinging the door open. With a leap into it, I give it a kick on the other side upon landing on the ground. I jump up, trying to turn the lock but the door trembles from the creature’s anger with my success. All of its weight pushes against it, the door snaps and pops in a signal of draining time. The lock clasps into place and I’m filled with manic haste. Nothing but various stalls and a row of sinks in this room…save for the small window near the corner. I reach for the sill using my fingers to thrust the glass upward. Growing ferocity resounds from behind each time the creature strikes the door, making me scurry ever faster. The window slides open and I clawed my way out of it, barely slipping my shoulders out through its small opening. The door finally gives in from the abuse allowing the creature to enter freely. I shimmy my body forward as I start to push downward to the ground below and outside. A sharp, searing pain fills my right leg as I yell out from the pain. The creature’s teeth are sunk into my ankle and I flail my legs all about like a madman in hopes the creature will loosen its grip upon me and stumble back. I feel my boot connect with flesh and an inhuman, unnatural screech echoes from inside as I fall to the fleshy ground below.

My ankle is bleeding fairly badly and the puncture wounds look deep. Before I know it, everything around me has shifted back to normal…as if it were instantaneous. I’m resting upon a small knoll near the back window of the station where several cruisers are parked. My ankle however, was still damaged. A bloodied reminder from the other side.

Now even more confused and worried, I get a moment to think as the adrenaline subsides. If the officers inside had actually seen me in there, they would have done something, wondering why I was in such a strange state and acting like I wasn’t seeing them. So it couldn’t have been real…but that doesn’t explain the ankle.

It’s then, underneath my boot that I note a small white object. A picture of Grace, one that had been taken during a date to a carnival I took her on. The back of it reads “For every step you take, I drift closer to death. Hurry.”

Was this what she had meant? Are these her…”tears” I was to follow? This all seems so unreal:

Following a trail left behind by someone that couldn’t have possibly left it.

A world that I once only entered due to the effects of a hallucinogen are now happening at random without it.

Injuries from this nightmare world remain in the real.

All of this makes no sense, not at all.  It’s not even something that could conceivably happen….

But it was. Right here, right now.

I’m now back in the solace of the secure world I call the real. Carnby’s address still engraved in mind, I decide not to go back into the station. I have what I need and can’t afford to waste time. The drive to Wiscasset would take me roughly twenty minutes and upon that notion I force a speed walk to the car, as much as my ankle wishes I hadn’t. Once inside I dig around for something to wrap around my ankle and come upon an old dust rag laying in the backseat. I carefully wrap it around; making sure it’s not too tight as to completely cut of circulation. That will hold back the bleeding and clot it for the time being. I’m driving away from the station in an instant, determined to locate Carnby’s house to confront him once more.

As the drive goes on, my mind wonders away. I can’t understand why that hellish dimension was arising on its own accord. Perhaps the drug lingers within the body for a specific amount of time? Or worse…maybe it has done some permanent damage and now I’m having these random bouts of delirium. But my mind conjures another theory:

What if it was indeed real?

It did seem ridiculous but the evidence speaks for itself. My torn ankle still bearing a bite wound here in the comfort of reality was enough. But Grace’s disembodied voice and the photograph further pressed the idea. Thinking back, the name Carnby had called the drug was Dramamine or Dimenhydrinate. I had never even heard of it until then and I doubt many had. Carnby had also spoken about it opening “doors” in the mind with a concentrated dose. He claimed it allowed the other worlds between ours to reveal themselves. Perhaps the hallucination was not one at all…

Maybe it opened the gateway to another plane…the dark underbelly of our light based world. A literal picture’s negative.

That’s a hard pill to swallow and an even harder thought to accept. But how else can it be explained? And when it’s put that way…

Upon passing the “Prettiest Village in Maine” sign I know where to go. Wiscasset road is a long winding one that veered off the main route 27. I turn into it to begin looking for a mailbox with the number twelve. The homes are fairly spread out, so the numbers come at a mellow pace. I see a small brown mailbox with the number I seek and pull into the dirt driveway.

The place is abandoned from what I can discern. A two story old Victorian style home now rotting, its paint cracked and wood frame weather worn, desperately desired it’s former image of beauty. No light is able to shine through those windows now that they are barred up and the door itself has some kind of lock attached. What occurred here?

I exit the car, walking toward the house with a sense of trepidation. This is a bad place; terrible things went unheard for years at this home. You can just sense it in the air and in your body…that rushing, primal sensation when you feel like something is wrong.

Strangling the knob is a thick lock that has recently been changed. As I think of a way to break through it, my ears tingle and my head hurts. That now familiar bellowing, static wail fill them once more and I collapse to my knees. It hurts so damn much I close my eyes out of the pain. I know what’s coming and I reopen them that knowledge.

It had changed.

The house before me is patches of leathered flesh, the door a tangled mess of scabbed hair and the ground looks like squashed hands mangled together. Surprisingly the lock is gone and the house almost beckons my hand to open it.

I can literally feel the hairs on my neck come to a stiff stand as I enter the house of horrors. I have been through these visages before but not like this…so much more intense this time…I believe my theory to be right:

This was real.

The house laboriously ebbs as if it has a pulse and heart beating inside its hallowed halls. The air bends and twists, shaped by an unseen pair of lungs filling the area with heavy breathing. A tour inside the body is the closest thing I can think of to compare it to…a walk through the body of the beast.

It’s alive, it‘s goddamn alive.

Whatever was in the home before the transformation is unrecognizable now for it’s all a sticky, dripping pile of violet meat. I roam the halls without a light shining save for the one in my soul. A hallway to my left leads to two rooms that are filled with naught but abominations of the flesh, so I press onward. A wider room before me that I deduce is the kitchen area is the same. There is nothing but this uncontrolled, chaotic mass of a being that has taken the shape of a home.

As I retrace my steps back, my eyes are transfixed to a single area on the wall that has not been tainted. A square tablet has been placed into the wall and the mass either could not or refused to cover it. I’m taken aback upon looking at the inscription. It’s a bizarre, violent demon’s face with the words “Death Comes for Her” underneath.

No, it won’t, I’ll save her. I promise Grace, I’ll find you.

My hand reaches for it, all the while my conscience is pleading me not to.

My fingers are barely touching the tablet.

“Don’t do it!”

Now they wrap around it, ready to pull away.

“Stop! Leave it alone!”

It lightly shakes as I pulled it from the wall.

“No!”

Too late. I firmly clutch it in my palm as it gives off a deep, chilling sensation through my skin. The mass is quick to cover the now bare area and I’m at a loss to this tablet’s purpose. Perhaps it was needed elsewhere in the home.

The only area I have not explored is the upstairs area. Quickly my feet speed to the stairway and upward to the unknown. What awaits me is rather shocking…there are no halls or rooms; merely a single, massive hole through the shambling mass rests before me. A faint light glints in the darkness ahead and with a single, deep breath I step inside, ready to meet whatever destiny awaits my approach.

A sparkle becomes a glowing orb, then a large circular light as I draw closer; walking through a wet mix of textures and things I’m relieved not to see. The light originates from a wound in the ground below that illuminates the surrounding room. Upon the wall uncovered is an opening much like the one downstairs previously. Body trembling and nerves jumping, I place the tablet I possess into the slot with anxiety.

And that is when the madness starts.

Sounds of static, disembodied laughter and rattling chains envelope the house as the mass creates waves crashing in and out, gaining pace like a person heaving when winded. The light below grows dim and further dim until it becomes insignificant, leaving me alone in the dark with nothing but my dread.

I run, without a single thought or care, I just run. My fear, not my mind, is making my feet move. Eyes widen and teeth tighten, my body fills with fright as I desperately attempt to make it back to the stairway. Something clamps my shoulder, forcing me into a struggle amongst the darkness with an unseen foe. It dig at me as I scream outward where my voice falls on no ears at all. I send a blind elbow back that rattles the being away long enough for me to break free and slide to a stop at the stairs momentarily before I flip over, tumbling and crashing down them. As fast as I went down I’m back to my feet, alert and looking all around to see what else may be out to face me.

At the top of the stairs stands the silhouette of a lanky, demented form of a being with shape unlike anything Earth has bore. No facial make up, nor any musculature I can read but its eyes shine outward. They’re eerily human in appearance but they seem to pierce through the soul with their stare of demonic intent. It just stands there, without a single sound, staring at me. My feet glide backwards as my eyes never look away from its own, as I sneak toward the front door where I pray my salvation lies.

My fingers fiddle with the knob and they move even faster when the beast descends, stomping down the stairs, each step louder than the last. I feel the door unhitch and I turned away to throw it open as a moist, hot breath of something near my ears blow past my head. I yelp as I fling out the door and onto what I believed the porch out front.

But nothing caught me. I continue to fall through an endless black abyss where I’m unable to see my own two hands in front of me. I can feel my mind slipping away similar to when one becomes extremely drowsy. It grows quieter, fainter until it all drifts to silence.

My eyes flicker open from the shimmering brightness of a lamp above. I’m lying on something soft and comfortable, familiar. I force myself to sit up and examine the surroundings….and those surroundings are my very own home.

Everything’s normal….this is the way my house should have been. I’m away from the nightmare for now but I know not how long. How had I ended up back here? This is many miles away from Carnby’s household. The abyss I fell into…I don’t understand it. Am I dreaming? What if I imagined all this? Maybe I’m lying in a hospital bed somewhere in a coma, my mind crafting all these images together to create a hellish world that plays on my fear of losing Grace.

That however, doesn’t add up.

I know what took place before all this had happened without a doubt. And that’s when it hits me: This time, after Carnby’s escape I have not seen nor spoke to a single person. Whenever I had gone in public the nightmare world took over. Could it be that I had died? Sure, Carnby and I had fought and I thought him dead but maybe I too suffered a fatal wound and died right there in my kitchen. It could have all been some kind of twisted limbo, wandering around forever looking for someone I couldn’t possibly locate.

I refuse to believe that.

That’s when I go back to my previous thoughts. This could be another reality, another plane hidden within our own that we cannot normally see because our mind lacks the ability to split dimensions…..unless, say, something were to awaken that area in the brain….like this chemical Carnby had been using.

It sounds insane…like something out of a story. Prolonged use of the chemical could build up within the body much like a smoker and nicotine….it becomes apart of the body….but this was something on a much, much greater scale.

As I turn myself to sit on the couch I feel something in my pant’s pocket that had not been there before. An old, wrinkled and stained note wrapped around a small object. I read its contents:

“I have done it. Hysteria in a bottle some might say, but if used correctly and in enough doses…..it is a key, a key to the gateway often ignored in our minds that has been there all along. Dramamine is what I needed…a delirium pushed away in medical study for its potent effects upon the body when refined. If only those fools knew….”

Carnby…it was without a doubt him. And this proves my theory. The nightmare wasn’t a nightmare at all….it exists right here, all around us, every minute of every day and we never notice because we lack the necessary ingredient: Dramamine.

The object is another photograph of Grace, this one at our wedding embracing each other in a hug of smiles and the glow of a wonderful start. The back, like the last, has a message:

“The hourglass grows empty…find me my love.”

Below was an address: 3 Blueview Apartments, Boothbay

Two “tears” now. This puzzle is beginning to reveal itself and yet still an enigma. I now have more insight into Carnby’s twisted scheme but I’m still confused about the events that had taken place at his home…or perhaps former home. Someone like him wouldn’t stay in a single place for long I think….he would have to change locations to remove any suspicion. I had watched enough crime shows to know that some serial killers are like nomads…moving from place to place, changing names and erasing what previous life they had.

And what of the address? Could it have been another location Carnby stayed? I’m familiar with that apartment complex for I had been there a few times in the past seeing visiting family. My knees tremble slightly when I go to stand and my back seizes with pain. I’m burnt out, worried, devoid of human contact and have not eaten in days. But none of that matters; it has to be ignored for now. All that matters is finding Grace…that’s the bottom line. The hard part is trying to survive in the alternate reality…

And no sooner had I thought that, my living room begins to shift. The roof disintegrates, the pieces tearing away and flying upward into nothingness like ash from a roaring blaze. There is no sky once more, an endless black releases orange, rusty rain instead. The carpet’s fur gnarls into contorted odd shapes like fine hairs cow licked together. Furniture becomes structures of broken bones and leathered flesh, the windows drip as if they were melting from an unknown heat source and air around me is an unrecognizable scent…. between rotting food and body odor.

Where my front door had once been was now a tunnel, much like the one before. Without a thought or care for my own safety, I run to it and down it. It’s illuminated by some force, as if it were showing me the way. But I keep running and all the while everything remains the same. The walls, the ground, everything looks exactly as it did with every step. It’s as if I were running in place upon a treadmill; an endless cycle. I come to a halt, looking back at the entrance of the tunnel. I’m no more than ten feet from it….going somewhere and nowhere at once. This place is nowhere.

Near lifeless, depressed and taken with dread, I wobble back out of the tunnel and into the rain. I’m losing faith….every step I take only leads me two steps back in the mystery of Grace’s disappearance. This is a game of diabolical chess without checkmate. Thoughts flood this mind of mine, all of which negative. Like a butterfly with its wings clipped, I’m tumbling down and down. Upon pulling out one of Grace’s photographs I had obtained, I stare at that image with woe and loneliness. Her face starts to run and the picture oozes away through my fingers to the puddle of rusty water beneath.

What the hell is the point? I would never, not in my lifetime find her. This is a fool’s errand, a puppet show orchestrated by a sadistic man. Failure has been written from the start.

No, stop this. Don’t give up; don’t let this place take you in. This is what Carnby wants. Fight goddamn it…for Grace.

As the oily rain of rust covers my body I drop to the fleshy ground. My vital resources are exhausted and I don’t know if I can continue. I am so close to finding Grace and yet, I was still standing right where I began. For every puzzle piece placed, another was missing. But one thing pushes me to my feet:

I loved her then and I love her still. I had to…no, I will save her.

Something catches my eye as I stand back up from my despair. The living room now bears a large mirror of a smoky surface. Its edges frost tipped and the air around it teeming with darkness. I walk to it staring into the reflection. It is I…an unfamiliar I. A five o’ clock shadow, black eye bags and a whiter complexion. I’m the face of starvation, exhaustion and insomnia. I couldn’t let this stop me, I’m not going to give up even though it was so hard not to.

Calling me the mirror is, wanting me to step into it and I comply. It coats my body as I step through and for a brief moment I’m unable to see, until the area on the other end embraces my coming. A stereotypical apartment was on the other side…a mostly white room that was in shambles. Various papers, discarded food items and clothing are scattered all about and two things came to mind: Someone was in a hurry to leave or someone had searched through here recently.

A set of keys on a near by end table hold a slip with the number three, letting me know this was the address I had received. Tension is all around me…something is different here….I have a notion something vital is lying in wait. After all, the nightmare had lead me here.

The carpet has not felt a vacuum’s touch in ages, the walls desperately need repainting and entire place is a haven of dust. However, some of the dust has been disturbed where hands had been shuffling about in a flurry. Could Carnby have been here looking for something?

Most of what is scattered is junk and not of any importance to myself. Old newspapers, magazines, cigarette butts and empty chip bags. One such item does appeal to my eyes though and I kneel down to examine it.

A capsule, similar in shape to a prescription bottle in design. Within it a strange liquid of teal. The side of the bottle has the words:

Dramamine.

The same thing Carnby had used to orchestrate this whole incident and what was causing me to cross dimensions. I knew not such a potent drug existed, let alone could even be real.

I pocket it to continue my search of the apartment. An old lamp has been thrown in some fit of rage, its bulb shattered all over the floor. A dresser knocked over and pulled apart without a care. Whatever had been in here, Carnby wanted it badly.  Several knives of what appeared to be surgical origin are strewn about the carpet, some with black, old and dried blood upon the blades. What horrors had taken place at Carnby’s households?

Tucked behind a nightstand amongst a pile of random garbage something appears different from the rest of its surroundings. I pick it up to look at it closer and once it’s in my palm I’m surprised…and startled.

A golden rope necklace with a silver heart. On it are the initials “A.J.P.”

My name.
Grace’s necklace.

She had been here at some point in time. Where has he taken you? Where the hell are you?

As if it heard my thoughts, the nightstand that held the keys released a drawer I had not noticed. I’m freaked out as I walk to it, curious of what it would reveal. Within it are numerous photographs of women I have not laid eyes on before. These were Carnby’s victims he had scoped before taking them…I knew it in my gut. And of course, among them is my wife. I shook with anger and frustration as I lift the Polaroid up to my face. She was walking somewhere in town, unaware of the freak stalking her with a camera. Feeling that it would repeat itself, I turned it over and sure enough, there was a message.

“In a field. Dead grass and withered trees. A single abandoned house.”

The third tear. But that didn’t tell me where it was. How could I find it if I knew not where to start?

That’s when I noticed it.

Thick, tentacle like orifices climb the end table below me, and from what I could tell, they had been covering the entire room the whole time. They slither up the walls around me, eventually reaching the ceiling. It’s everywhere; these vines of some unknown substance growing over anything in their path. They’re all coming from a circular point in the middle of the room, a black hole. Suspense coats my soul with each step closer to the only exit available. I close my eyes and allow myself to fall into the void. Dead are my senses on the way down…if I am indeed falling down. I know not what is around me or even where I am going. I can’t even comprehend what temperature the air was at. It’s as if I wasn’t experiencing this but I certainly am.

Everything went blank or I assume it did. Once second I was what I believed was falling, and now I am lying flat down on my stomach somewhere. I have yet to open my eyes, but whatever it was I have fallen on top of is cold, numbing and wet. My fingers feel something metallic underneath this cold substance as my eyes unwillingly open. I had fallen on what looked like snow atop layered metal plate. I stand and wipe away the snow from my jeans, shivering from the unforgiving frost now penetrating my skin. A bright, powerful light from above is like a beacon coming from out of thin air.

Where am I?

That’s when I realize that this little spot is my sanctuary. All around me are crystalline, bone fences that craft a sort of maze. The pathways are a series of overlapping teeth, twisted and wildly grown. Oddly enough, near my feet rests a heavily scratched Zippo lighter that with a simple flick of the thumb, ignites. It isn’t much of a light source, but I’m glad to have it for the maze ahead.

I step forward to begin this abysmal exploration. At first the hall remains straight and then cuts to a fork of left and right. I just go right without thinking, walking down the hall with nervousness. Despite the flame flickering the light did provide much needed sight. My shaking did not help either. I grunt as I slam into a wall that has abruptly appeared from the shadow. Dead end. I turn back to take the left root at the fork, curving around a bending corner that feels like it’s winding forever. It finally comes to a halt at yet another fork, this time a crossway. I move to the left but see another wall blocking the way at the tip of the light my Zippo has illuminated. I proceed straight this time, keeping my eyes peeled for what could be ahead. My feet inexplicably give out from underneath me and I struggle to grab the fencing, my fingers digging at the cold, boney collective. My hands latch onto the pillar of the fence and I look down to see I have nearly tumbled into a hole laced with sharp, jagged metal shards. Groaning with strain as I pull myself back out, I’m thankful to still be alive. It takes me a moment to collect myself, but I continue the only way that remains: left. I press onward until I come upon an open area. Two doorways of intertwined hair and what looked to be inhuman teeth greet me. My heart races as I stretch for the first one, my mind creating a million outcomes; none good. The door opens with a loud, exaggerated creak as it moves away. Nothing. Nothing was inside that I could see…just empty void.

My chest bursts with shocking pain as I’m tackled by an unseen assailant from the darkness. I smash the ground below with a thunderous bang as I fight with the unknown beast. Covered in thick black hairs, it’s back arched upward in a hunch and its head heavily distorted. It drives its claws into my leg and hip, causing me to yell out from the pain as I elbow the beast in the head once, twice and then thrice. A completely alien wail is heard as the monster reels back swinging blindly and furiously toward my face and I am full of haste in my dodge. My foot cracks against where I believed the facial area is with a snapping thud. As if not phased by the blow the beast muckles my leg to slash away furiously like a cat cuffing a mouse. I yell out once more in desperate pain and I notice a sharp metallic piece that is just barely out of my reach. I struggled for it, stretching my body to its limit as the creature leaps atop of me, ready to finish me off and have its next meal. Teeth come soaring toward my neck and in an instant blood is pouring out everywhere. The monster’s eyes open wide, rolling back…the metal shard has completely pierced it’s throat. It gurgles as I throw it off me, watching it slowly fade away and die. It looks like a man, but hideously disfigured with large legions upon its frame. Its hair concealed its face until now and its features were not remotely human. It is more canine and simian in shape, an unnatural union of the two.

My leg throbs deeply, making a promise of much more pain to come. I know it’s bleeding obviously, but I have to neglect it for the time being. What the f**k are these things I had seen? Demons? For all I know I am truly in Hell.

I limp toward the second door, thinking that if another creature appears I would not be capable of winning a second round. I muster any bravery I have left and with a click, the door opens. A small, almost comforting blue light sphere is on the other side. Feeling that there is no danger ahead, I step forward to let the light embrace me in a blinding flash. For once, I feel at ease…this light comfortably warm and relaxing.

I hear her voice…Grace.

“So close…so very close…..I can feel your heart…”

Every story has an unavoidable ending and I sense in my soul I’m nearing mine. I’m smart enough to know nobody would ever believe this…it’s unrealistic. But it is happening, it had been and it still is right now.

Hold on my love, I’m coming.

When the light surrounding me fades I’m in the normal world surrounded by long weeds and goldenrod. The vegetation is long dead, brown and sun dried. The sky is of a dark gray ready to pour down rain at any given moment, the sun thickly hidden away dimming everything. All around me this is what I see…a large field barren and lifeless….

Except for the abandoned house sitting to the north. Just like the note had described. Someone is there…a dark navy blue van is parked near the door.

I know not if the swelling anger within me is the cause but the world, within an instant, transformed in a blaze of ash. Blood grass, teardrops that resemble crystal, a magenta sun and a house of rotting flesh. No longer frightened; I am determined, furious and ready to end this charade once and for all. I’m pulling back the curtain, ready to face the matriarch of this grotesque opera.

Tightly I grip her necklace in mixed hues of vengeful woe and anger. I have washed the poisonous thoughts from my mind and breaking her free from her accursed prison is all that matters. Through the lines of blood and crystal teardrops I stride with the utmost resolve. It’s nearing the climax; soon I would save my betrothed and be locked in a dance of masquerades with the devil for her soul.

I stomp through the field, my sight never leaving the house and my mind shutting out the pain. Knowing that discretion is my best tactic, I move the door ever so quietly. All the doorways have been consumed by the flesh of the house and all that lays before me is one, final stairway leading down to a basement where the final confrontation would no doubt take place. It seems to call me to it, begging me to shatter this nightmare.

The stairs squish due to the meat they were crafted out of, but I still attempt to be silent for I can hear voices. I recognize them both. Grace…and Carnby. I drop off the final step to lean around the corner, seeing what was there. Carnby, in all his overweight, gluttonous, sodomy loving glory is there hovering over my Grace. Her skin has been slashed and is bleeding out, making her appear vaguely red-ish pink. Her head dirty and grimy, hanging downward from exhaustion and hopelessness. She has been bound to a chair with rope, unable to flee. He is holding a shank near her head, dancing it around with his thick hands.

“It’s that time. I would have ended your life sooner my dear, had I not had to take care of some matters first.” Carnby crudely speaks through stained teeth.

“You won’t get away with this.” Grace breaks through a cough.

“Truly? I would say my plan has been successful thus far. Your husband became my lab rat and you were my test to see just how sadistic I could become. You both have…enlightened me. Now I know the extent of my own humanity and I know how to enter the other planes of reality.” Carnby sneers, toying around with the blade.

I step out from the shadows and when Grace sees me; her face appears to glow with happiness. Carnby slowly turns to face me, his expression a grimace of madness. The candlelight here shimmers from his glasses as he stares.

“You should have made sure I was dead Carnby. I made that mistake with you, but not this time.” I coldly and firmly state.

“Ah…the traveler of worlds. Have you enjoyed it? You are no longer a necessity. I know that prolonged usage of the drug evidently opens the door in the mind to see the other side. Do you know…that it becomes permanent?” Carnby quipped with a hoarse laugh.

“I don‘t believe you. I’m going to save Grace and end this, here and now. I walked through Hell, faced horrors unimaginable just to get here. I will not let the story be written your way.“ I clench my fist.

“There is a way to shut it out….a vial filled with a liquid that will shut off the nervous system to that portion of the brain, causing the cells to misfire, as it were, and eventually disclose the area. It will heal back like it never happened and it‘s right over there on that table…but you’ll have to kill me to have it. I may be done with the two of you, but you can’t be allowed to leave, not if my experiments are to continue. Enough talk, it’s time for you to die.”

Carnby lunges toward me with the shank extended, slashing toward my torso as I jump away to the side. The blade glimmers death through the darkness as Carnby and I circle around each other, wondering who would make the next move like a twisted game of cards. I have no weapon and as such I am cautiously aware of his movements. So focused on him am I, that I trip over my own two feet. Carnby wastes no time taking advantage of this opening, cutting my rib cage open before stepping back into position. The wound was adds to my draining strength and with every movement it becomes tendered. Carnby chuckles at this, lunging forward again and I narrowly avoid him. I hear Grace in the background, gasping with nervousness each time a strike is thrown. That’s when an idea arises.

I pretend to trip again and as expected Carnby kamikazes once more. I shift out of the way, hitting his arm and causing the blade to fall to the ground beneath us. We both dive for it at once, writhing against each other for the weapon in a storm of knuckles and knees. His hits are forceful, well impacted blows against my face and chest. I feel my power waning, so I throw an adrenaline fueled hard right to his temple, stunning my foe long enough for me to grab the blade and with a spin….

A hard boot hits me between the eyes, dizzying and disorienting me. Carnby rips the blade from my fingers and looms over me, a shade of evil. His grin wide, his eyes full of evil intent and his hand ready to put me to rest. Grace screams in terror as she watches Carnby prepare to end my life and I feel the last of my energy dissipate.

“Close good sir, but not close enough. You’ve given me one too many knife wounds. Goodbye, my little lab rat.” Carnby shakes his head with a smile.

I came this far, struggled through Hell, abominations, my own fears, depression and sadness….and there she was, right there before me. Too close. No, it couldn’t end this way.

In one final outburst of justice seeking fury, I fly to my knees as Carnby swings downward with surprise. I reach up for his arm and catch it, gripping it so tightly he yelps from the pain. In one swift, continuous movement I drive the b*****d’s blade into his own hide.

“Burn in the Hell you created.” The words just came out.

Carnby stumbles from me, his ankles growing weak and unable to hold his weight. Shaking hands agonizingly grab at his chest where his heart rests; his white button shirt now becoming a dark red in color. Gasps of air come and go, labored and struggled as the light from his body is snuffed out. A gargled moan rings out as he fall to his knees, his eyes rolling over wide and his body dropping to the ground in a lifeless heap. Carnby was dead…for good.

I step over him, my entire body stricken with pain and exhaustion from my untreated wounds. I walk over to Grace to undo her bounds. She looks at me with welled up eyes and an expression of both worry and relief. I give her a half cocked smile as I lift her up to scoop her into my arms. I start to walk out, but Grace told me to stop. She grabbed the vial Carnby had mentioned and we proceed.

“I thought I would never see your face again…never feel your touch, taste your kiss or be held by you again. I was so frightened…every minute that went by I feared you had died.” Grace cries.

“I know baby. I know all too well. I was so close to giving in…so close to just giving up and wasting away out of the worry that you had been killed. But one thing kept lingering in the back of mind…one thing that would not let my heart stop.” I reply, myself starting to cry.

“What was it?” Grace quietly asks.

“I can’t live without you.” I whisper while she wrapped herself closer to me.

“I was hallucinating that I was talking to you…but…I think it was real…I refused to let you go.” Grace states in reminiscent confusion.

“You were…you kept me going. The things I saw Grace…the things I felt. I‘m glad you‘re alright, I don‘t want to know what it was like for you here. It must have been horrible.” I nearly choke on the words from sadness and anger.

“I can’t imagine what you faced either. But I had faith in you…. and you found me my love.” Grace tightens her grip as more tears fall.

“I don’t want to ever lose you again. I want to grow old with you, have kids someday and be with you for as long as this life allows it.” I kiss her forehead.

“I loved you then…” Grace starts.

“And I love you still.” And I finish.

I am taken over by a strange sensation…something between being overjoyed and amazed. It was that indescribable feeling that claims you when something incredible happens…or when you feel love for the first time and know it’s genuine. As we walk out from the home, the nightmare washes away like a running canvas, dripping downward to reveal the true beauty behind it. I carry her to the now normal world outside and we embrace one another in a deep, emotional hug that closes with a kiss neither of us expected to experience again. Upon entering the van knowing we need medical attention, we drive away from not the house, but the memories of what have taken place. I look over at her once more as she rests her head on my shoulder. It’s then I know, this nightmare was truly over.

My name is Aubrey Jack Peaslee. I am happily married to the woman of my dreams, Grace. She vanished out of the blue sky above and I could not find her as I kept sinking deeper into the world of my own despair. I was Dante in the Inferno looking for my ultimate love. I fought the Devil once but it was a short victory. He escaped and I still had not found my angel. The Hell hidden behind our eyes was taking me at random, stepping ever closer to steal my soul and the life of what I held dear. Though demons, landscapes of nightmares and trials of the heart tested me, I eventually confronted the Devil once more, this time to the death. Battered, broken and worn, I had been victorious. I broke the chains that bound my angel and her light reinvigorated my fading soul. Now every breath I take, as I write this story, when I look upon our two children and most of all, Grace, one thought comes to my mind:

Our love is what set us free.

+THE END+

Author's Note

The second half of Follow My Tears. I suggest reading that first, as this may be very confusing without.

I focused more on the "dark side" in this half, as I felt each part should reflect one another like the worlds within the story.