Hidden Perception

Are we so alone that our state could appeal to others? And should that happen, would it necessarily be a good thing?

The door lock was easy to disconnect, and now, with no alarm system being perceived, Darvelle had no problem entering the kitchen. He stepped quietly into the dark room and made his way about, being careful to close the door behind him. He ventured through the dark dwelling, moving carefully so as not to disrupt anything, and journeyed to the single bedroom. There should be some form of valuables in here, he thought.
He was just about to open the top drawer when he heard the front door. Cautiously, he made his way to the closet and stepped in among the hanging clothes, leaving a small gap for looking out. An eternity seemed to pass,  then the young woman entered the room, kicking off her shoes, tossing a jacket upon a chair. She entered the bathroom and Darvelle felt this might be the moment he could escape, but she emerged clad in her under-garments, and here he stood, only a man.
The woman slipped on a sleeping gown, then sat on the bed, her back to the closet. She seemed to be doing something, massaging her feet, perhaps. Then she leaned back and rested on the bed, her arms outstretched, and turned out the light.
Darvelle watched her as his mind raced between being in that closet for different reasons.
The woman straightened herself up, so she was positioned straight up and down, not at an angle. She slid her hand under the pillow, then brought it back out and arranged herself so she was facing up. She sat there for a minute, then raised her arm to her forehead and once again, sat motionless. Then Darvelle heard sobs. She was crying.

She brought her other hand to her face, which allowed the crying to become louder. Darvelle watched her, now out of curiosity than desire. She wiped at a tear, then brought her hands to rest on her stomach. She sniffed and turned to the side, now facing toward the closet, but in the dark, it was unlikely she could perceive anything. She wiped at another tear, gave another sniff, and Darvelle unmistakably heard her speak.
"Why does it have to be this way?" she said, still sobbing. She took a deep breath, then repeated even louder, clearer, "Why does it have to be this way?"

She brought her hand to her face and touched her cheek, turning away from the closet. "It's all I ask," she whispered now.

Darvelle was stone-like, motionless, watching her from within the closet. He wished he could leave without her knowing, even thought about making a break for it. He was barely breathing now, knowing she would never hear him over her cries.

"I wish I was somewhere else," she said aloud, amid her tears. "Anywhere else!"

Darvelle wished he was somewhere else too. For one brief moment, his wayward mind jumped at the possibility he might be the answer to her problems. He could make her life better, with this criminal instinct. He would be just what she wanted to shake up this stagnation in her life.

The woman still lay on the bed and wailed, "won't someone come to my rescue?" followed by more crying.

Darvelle looked at her, watching her body in the darkness. He studied her movement, the shape of her figure, her vulnerability. He took in all he could about her just from watching in the dark. He so wanted to emerge and take her by surprise, overwhelm her with the suddeness of his being there, as if in answer to her misery. He tried to have a little more sense than that, but they might be good for each other. She wasn't happy, he was wanting. This could be what they both needed.

Then Darvelle heard the voice speak from within the closet.

"I will."

Darvelle's eyes widened. He couldn't swallow. He couldn't breathe. He felt certain he might lose control of his bodily functions in that closet. Did he speak out loud like that, for her to hear? It had to have been Darvelle, caught up in this moment. Who else could it possibly be?

He detected she had muffled her sobs and turned in the dark toward the closet. "Who said that?" she asked.

Darvelle clenched his teeth to keep himself from speaking, for whatever good that would do. She'd obviously already heard him. He knew he would faint from lack of oxygen. He couldn't inhale. At best all he was doing was hyper-ventilating.

"I said it. I will take you away."

Darvelle's eyes widened even more, if at all possible. He was becoming caught up in this woman's situation and obviously speaking out of hand. Why was he doing this? Then he detected the woman moving on the bed and sitting straight up.

"Come out of there, right now!" she yelled, her arms uplifted in the dark.

Darvelle knew she had a gun by her position. Probably had it concealed under the pillow. She was prepared.

"Come out! Now!" she bellowed again.

Darvelle looked forward and was bracing himself to move out of the closet. He had no idea why he had spoken and couldn't even say for certain it was him. He just couldn't think straight being in a woman's bedroom like that. Then he heard the voice speak again.

"As you wish."

That wasn't him. Darvelle sensed rustling and movement behind him in the closet and a figure emerging from the garments on hangers. He turned to see the being slowly walk by him in the dark and exit the compartment. The person didn't look at Darvelle at all and slowly walked into the room and stood before the bed.

"Who are you?" the woman asked. She quickly leaned over and turned on a lamp. She was somewhat startled by the figure, and Darvelle was a little taken aback too.

The person seemed to be human, but there was a deformity about him; something that just seemed like it shouldn't be there. Who was this person?

"Who are you?" the woman asked again, now getting out of bed.

"I am the answer to your request," he said calmly. "I want to remove you from all your unpleasantness."

"Shut up!" she snapped. Without taking her eyes off him, she stood out of bed and picked up her phone and began keying.

"It won't work. You cannot contact anyone," the person said.

"Shut up!" she yelled again, then still holding the gun, she looked at the phone. She turned back to the figure.

"What did you do with the phone? Why does it say no reception?"

"We are too far out of distance by now," the fellow replied.

Darvelle watched the figure standing before her, but noticed he didn't turn when she got out of bed.

"What distance? What are you talking about?" she asked.

"You are being removed from the unhappiness of your life," he replied. "It is what you wanted."

"Get out of my room! Move!" she ordered, motioning to the bedroom door going into the outer apartment.

"We cannot," he replied calmly. "The room is sealed. We cannot leave until we have arrived at our destination."

"I don't know what is wrong with you, but you better get out of here now!" she yelled. She moved toward the figure and he gradually stepped away from her, back toward the closet where Darvelle still hid. Aiming the gun at the person and wanting to get out of the room, she stopped in front of the window and either detecting some faint flicker of light outside between the curtains or some other intuition, she snatched the curtains away to reveal the outside.
Darvelle watched as slowly she lowered the gun and stared out the window, with her face becoming illuminated by flashing lights and sudden bouts of dark as well. The woman stepped away from the window and looked at the person in the room once more.
"Who are you?" she asked, looking back to the window.
Darvelle couldn't see what was outside the window, but noted how startled she was.

"I told you. I have come to take you away from your unhappiness," the figure said again. "We will be arriving momentarily and then you may depart."

"Oh my God," she shrieked. She put her empty hand to her face, and held the gun aimed in no direction. "Who are you?"

She ran passed the figure who made no effort to stop her and reached the closed bedroom door and pulled on it. The door wouldn't open. She looked back to the stranger. "Where are you taking me? What are you doing? Let me out of here now!"

"I'm afraid I can't do that. You have been removed as you requested."

"No!" she yelled and fired the gun at him, but her hand was not steady.

Darvelle continued to watch the figure who still seemed to somewhat be looking away from her, and with the gunshot, the person was puzzled and turned more toward the door now.

Gradually, almost hysterical, she walked away from the door, still aiming the gun at the figure, inadvertently approaching the closet.

"Let me out of here!" she screamed. "Now!"

Once more, Darvelle watched the figure now turn from the door and toward the closet door where she stood.

"We are almost there," he replied.

Without making a sound, Darvelle now stepped from the closet. There was no way better for him to do this, he decided.

She turned and looked at him, now totally in shock. "Who are you?" she yelled at Darvelle, turning the gun toward him.

"I am called Ulsterfe," the strange figure seemed to answer. "My duties are to procure people wanting a change in their lives and removing them for such."

The woman looked at the fellow, Ulsterfe, in a startled manner, then turned back to Darvelle. Darvelle put his hand up to shush her.

"Don't say a word," Darvelle whispered as quietly as he could.

"As you wish," Ulsterfe responded.

Darvelle and the woman both looked at him. Ulsterfe turned away and looked at the window.

Darvelle looked back at the woman, still holding the gun, and motioned for her to enter the closet. She was reluctant, but Darvelle entered in an almost hiding manner. She looked back to Ulsterfe, then slowly made her way into the closet as well. Darvelle slowly pulled the door to, but left a gap so they could observe Ulsterfe.

She started to speak, but Darvelle stopped her again. He pulled the door to a bit more, then backed into the closet as much as possible.

"He can hear us," Darvelle whispered as quietly as possible, watching as Ulsterfe even then twitched his head up as tho he detected sound.

"Your communication is present," Ulsterfe replied. "Ah, we have arrived."

Darvelle and the woman watched as Ulsterfe turned toward the window and stepped into it, almost curtain-like. 

"He can hear us in his presence," Darvelle whispered as quietly as possible, "but maybe he can't if he has stepped out to wherever he has gone."

"Who is he?" she asked. "For that matter, who are you?"

"I'm Darvelle, but that's not important." Slowly he moved out of the closet to the window and pulled the curtain away to view their new location. "He didn't see me earlier when I was hiding in the closet. He stepped right past me. He can hear better than he sees, but I don't think he is distinguishing us from one another. He thinks we are one person."

All Darvelle could detect outside was bright lights with dark swirling colored surfaces and humanoid beings moving about.

Darvelle looked at the woman still holding the gun. He turned back to the window to see a form coming closer.

"Quick," Darvelle said. "Give me the gun."

"Why? I don't know who you . . . "

"Give me the gun in case I have to use it! Hurry!"

She did as she was told, giving in to grave uncertainty, but she deduced he could take better aim than her. 

The being, Ulsterfe, stepped through once more as Darvelle moved away from him. Ulsterfe stared at Darevelle and spoke.

"It is time for you to disembark," he said.

Darvelle looked at him. "What do you mean?"

"We have need of you, and you wanted away from your world."

Slowly, Darvelle turned to the woman at the closet and once again, motioned for her to remain quiet. She looked at everything peculiarly.

"You want me to go with you?" Darvelle asked.

"I have said that," Ulsterfe replied. "I have brought you here to get you away from your unhappiness, as you wanted."

Darvelle looked back to the woman, holding his hand up once more. The gun was in his other hand, tucked in his jacket.

"You brought me here," he stated, emphasizing himself. "I am the one you spoke with and I . . . . I shot at you earlier."

"Correct. There is no one else here."

"There is no one else here," Darvelle repeated, then asked, "what will you do with this room?"

"It will be sent back once more so we may await another unhappy individual who will suit our purposes."

"Like a trap, huh?"

"If you like, but come. Your unhappiness is needed for our observations and services."

Darvelle stood a bit, then asked, "my unhappiness is needed." Once more he looked to the woman in the closet, recalling her sorrow on the bed when she thought she was alone. "You need me to be unhappy as I was before."

Ulsterfe seemed to smile approvingly, as tho the Earthling was comprehending something.

Darvelle glanced again to the closet, then found himself raising his head somewhat confident. "Okay, Uster-whatever. I'll go with you now."

Ulsterfe stepped back through the willowy opening at the window and just as he was about to depart, Darvelle looked back to the woman at the closet. He gave a smile of assurance, then likewise followed.

The woman stepped further into the bedroom and looked at the opening. She heard strange voices, Ulsterfe, someone else, Darvelle. Then she heard Darvelle laughing, and other voices. There was flashes of brightness, then dark, and suddenly she heard loud explosive popping sounds. Darvelle was using the gun.

She moved back away from the window to beside the bed and crouched down. There was still other loud voices, some strange noises, then the popping again, then she detected in the now-darkening room, a form push through the portal and fall to the floor in the room. The lights grew dark, except for a strange flash beyond the curtain. She remained crouched beside the bed.

The lights suddenly came on in the room and all was still. She looked at the person on the floor and recognized his attire. It was Darvelle. She moved toward him and rolled him over to see his face. He seemed a little give out, exasperated.

"Darvelle?" she asked. "What did you do?"

"Gave them a sense of what to expect from taking someone away from their home. There were other people there, people I guess they had taken in the past, from other locations."
Darvelle sat up. "When I started shooting, I don't think they had ever experienced a gun before. Most of them ran and I thought I heard they were sending the room back, so I thought I better hop on board. If they need unhappiness, they have plenty of it now."

Slowly Darvelle stood to his feet and looked around. He approached the window to see what it revealed now. Looking outside, he now viewed much more familiar trees and shrubbery in a nighttime setting.
"I believe we are back on Earth," Darvelle said.

The woman made her way to the bedroom door and turned the knob. The door opened. She stepped into her outer apartment, Darvelle gradually followed.

"So they're gone?" she asked Darvelle.

"Looks like it. Don't think they'll bother taking you at least anymore." He removed the gun from his jacket and placed it on the table. "I guess you could have just as easily done what I did and started shooting them like that."

She gave a faint smile, then replied, "I'm glad you were the one who took care of them."
She looked at Darvelle a bit, then asked, "what will you do now?"

Darvelle smiled and stepped away. "I guess I'm going to get out of here," he said, moving toward the door.

"Wait," she called. "Why were you here . . . ," but he had already made his way out the door and closed it behind him.

Darvelle moved down the dark street, no one else around him. Without stopping, he looked up and wondered if Ulsterfe was from outer space, or another dimension or something.