Supine

 

The clock read 12:19 am as Jane leaned over to gingerly turn off her primary source of light, leaving the emerald green letters to burn into the darkness. For too long now her nights were restless, and yet tonight felt different, the desire for sleep was stronger. She embraced the blackness of the room while her breathing grew shallower. Sleep encompassed her the moment the grey flannel pillow supported her head and all lights went out. The girl didn’t even have time to turn onto her right side as she normally did, before lapsing into a half sleep.

            Awake and dreaming, Jane’s eyes flew open wide, yet took in no light. Her cat, Charlie, was fast asleep on her legs at the far end of the bed; she could feel the pressure. Slowly, the cat crawled up to the young woman’s stomach and the pressure could be felt running from her chest down to her bare toes. Casually, almost impulsively, Jane reached out to pet the black cat as she always did when it graced her with its presence. Her arm would not move. With a sudden panic, a realization dawned on her: Jane had let Charlie outside before she went to bed.

            Like an Egyptian mummy, frozen arms remained crossed on her still chest as Jane struggled to breathe. Accompanied by the horrible sensation of fear and dread, came an awareness of a presence in the room. Someone was sitting on her in the pale green light, rubbing and twisting her legs. Desperately, Jane screamed for help from whomever could hear, but no sound came out; her mouth didn’t even open. Her eyes began rolling around and she found that she could not even form a clear thought in order to use her mind to yell at the intruder. She never had to. The dense weight left her legs the moment the sound of a heavy object landing on the floor was heard, but it was still there, crouched in the dark like a wolf watching its prey.

            Brown eyes never ceased scanning the room for any sign of the “presence”, but it was always just out of Jane’s sight. Suddenly, the bed flipped over, spinning backwards over and over. Just as quickly as it had begun, the bed’s maddening movement ceased, but there is no rest for the wicked. She just became aware of the soft moonlight as an imperceptible force took hold of her feet, pulling her quickly down through the covers and back out again. With her motionless body, yet constant awareness, Jane felt the same as though she were drunk to the point of passing out, immobile in the dark. Pale, bloodless arms trailed behind a limp body as Jane was dragged from one end of the bed to the other, repeatedly and violently in all directions. With a sudden jerk the ceiling rushed up to meet her, eradicating her as though she were a glass vase. Her stomach sickened as her body cascaded down onto the bed and surged upwards again. It was then that she saw him, the tall demonic incubus of a man who stood hooded at the end of the bed. Power leaked from the dominating presence that took away all hope. With a smirk that Jane could feel rather than see, he turned his shadowed face upwards, amused at the sight before him. She was lost in the power of the deep waves as they rushed forward to shatter her against the jagged rocks on the shore. Powerless, the girl was being broken in the silent dark of her own bedroom. Paralyzed or not, Jane was certain that she would be knocked unconscious before long. No sooner had the thought entered her mind, she began flying around the room violently, twirling in what had become her music box. Every essence of her was spinning: mind, body, and soul. He would not kill her, though Jane was unsure of how she knew this; he could not kill her. The demon of the night mocked her in this supposed defeat, laughing as he watched her suffering in his slaughtering waltz. Like a vampire he sucked out and thrived on her fear, feeding it as best he could. With the last echoes of demonic laughter, the Evil sent an image into the hurricane that lay before Jane’s eyes. Wavy, dark, yet short hair framed a brown-skinned face and dark brown eyes were set in an unsmiling face. And then the image was gone, her invisible wings were ripped out and replaced with cold, ice-covered chains to hold her in place beneath the snow that was her white blankets.   

Time had stolen away. A thousand years could have passed and Jane would never have been able to tell as she lay there, exposed to the night-mare. Fear frosted the seventeen year old anatomy and it took all of Jane’s strength to raise her right arm ever so slightly, to reach out into the dark and expose her naked limb to faceless shadows.

Light exposed the grey, worn sheets that lay undisturbed around her and the firmly fastened door. The walls of the square room were crimson with paint, not with blood from a repeatedly beaten head. Yet a sinister dread still hung about the room, stabbing Jane’s heart and causing her to flee the incarceration that was her room, leaving behind emerald green letters reading: 12:38 am.