Whoever Brings the Night

"Hallucinations? No, not hallucinations. They’re too terrible and horrific to be images in my mind. Much too real." A Halloween story written for English class.

Tick, tock, tick, tock.

 

I look down at the little bomb strapped to my wrist. Tick, tock. It says it’s half past eight, now.

 

Time to head home. I sigh, rising to my feet, shoving my hands and the little bomb into my jacket pockets.

 

I leave the park, wondering briefly if it’ll ever go off--the bomb, I mean. It’s been ticking for months, now.

 

The streets are dark already, a full moon peeking out from behind a group of evergreens. Street lamps flicker to life, casting their light over the sidewalk. Tall, heavy, l street lamps. One could fall on me, I realize. One could fall on me and push me straight down to the devil‘s kingdom. I move to the edge of the sidewalk, speeding up just a slight bit when I pass under the lights.

 

I hurry to get home. I’ve neglected my medication for the past few days, which could have been catastrophic, but nothing had happened. No extreme sights or sounds that never actually exist, or even extreme paranoia. But I need to take the pills. Very, very soon. Hallucinations wouldn’t be very helpful on a night like this. It is Halloween, after--

 

--“Hey,” I say, coming to a stop. There, at my feet, is a man. Tall and lanky, his hair sticking out in odd directions. He has no face. His skin is black; transparent, even. His clothes are black, too--if he is wearing clothes at all. The baggy folds around the silhouette could be skin, as well.

 

“Stop following me!” I yell at the faceless man. He doesn’t move. I try kicking him, but miss. He tries to kick me back. He misses, too. I glare at him. I imagine he’s glaring back at me with his non-existent eyes.

 

I step forward. He follows. I sigh loudly, shaking my head, and he does the same. Rolling my eyes in annoyance, I continue walking, ignoring the faceless man, who walks along beside me. I realize he probably won’t hurt me unless I try to hurt him first.

 

I come to my street corner. The faceless man is gone, but so are the street lamps. I search the ground for him, wondering how he’d managed to disappear so quickly.

 

Maybe they got him, I think. I spin around. They could still be here, lurking, waiting for the chance to strike at the next innocent passer-by. They could be after me, now.

I run down the street, towards my house. They can’t get me if I’m indoors. I won’t let them!

 

‘Run the other way,’ a little voice tells me. I slow to a stop, confused.

 

“But my house is right there!” I argue, waving to a tiny bungalow two houses down.

 

‘It doesn’t matter. The other way is better. They can’t get you if you run that way.’

 

“Alright,” I sigh, and reluctantly begin running back the way I came. I notice the faceless man is back, keeping pace with my strides. He must be giving the orders. Hmm. I guess he’s my friend.

 

‘Don’t turn.’ The faceless man whispers when I reach the corner. I cross the street, stepping onto a boulevard I almost never visit.

 

Tall, beautifully constructed houses line either side of the street, their lawns decorated with comical versions of Frankenstein and Count Dracula. Jack-o-lanterns glow on each doorstep, devious grins carved into the hollowed fruits. A merry scene to stumble upon.

 

The little voice of a child cries out. I turn towards the noise, but there is no child there. A little monster, ghoulish and dark in the low light, stands at the door of a house. Green, scaly skin, with sharp, yellow talons growing from its fingers, which clutch a pail tightly against its chest. Someone opens the door and drops food into the pail. The monster turns, running down the sidewalk towards me, a joyful--but hungry--look on his pudgy face.

 

‘He’s coming after you,’ The faceless man whispers. ‘Run! He’ll eat you if you don’t leave. They sent him!’

 

Sneakers slam against the concrete as I hurry down the boulevard, away from the beast. Where had it come from? Surely it hadn’t been sent here just for me. Why would they send a monster to get me, anyways? What was the point? My breath comes in gasps now, so I slow to a brisk walk. I risk a glance over my shoulder and, sighing in relief, I notice the monster hasn’t followed me.

 

It’s getting darker. The faceless man is still with me, though it’s been awhile since he last disappeared. I decide he needs a name.

 

‘James,’ The faceless man says. ‘Call me James.’

 

“Okay, then. Hello, James,” I mutter.

 

I hear laughter. Somewhere nearby, it starts high and joyful, then ever so slowly, morphing into a guttural, bellowing noise that shakes the earth and sends shivers up my spine. Hungry, mischievous… evil. Like boulders crashing down a mountain and metal scraping against metal--both at the same time. The devil’s laugh.

 

They come around the corner. Seven of them. Grotesque, morbid beasts, with unnaturally colored eyes and rough, scabby skin . Thick, oozing blood drips from puncture marks and deep gashes, or sharp, lethal fangs that are too long to fit inside their owner’s mouth. Skin hangs off their bones in burned, rotting strips, while ugly claws scrape the ground as they walk. Snakelike eyes scour the street for human food. One, a horned creature with scorching red skin and yellow eyes, carries a rusted trident. Another, a rotting, undead zombie, waves a bloody severed hand around like a baton. They growl and laugh and snarl at each other, slowly making their way down the street towards me.

 

Hallucinations? No, not hallucinations. They’re too terrible and horrific to be images in my mind. Much too real.

 

‘They’re coming for you, Timothy.’ James whispers. ‘See that severed hand? They ate its owner, and many, many others. They’ll eat you too, if you don’t leave!’

 

Panic sets in. One of the demons lunge forward. The rest follow. They run towards me, towards my warm, edible flesh, ready to tear my body limb from limb. Their low, insane laughter never stops, just grows louder and louder, until it fills the air. Bloodlust in their eyes, their hands balling up into tight fists. They’ll kill me!

 

I yell. I punch. I kick, I flail, I scream, begging for mercy and life. They come closer to me, more reluctantly than before, stopping only a few feet away. I scream a string of insults at them. One steps forward--the leader, the red-skinned, yellow-eyed terror with the trident--and gives me a curious look.

 

‘He’ll eat you, Timothy! Run!’ James yells.

 

“Leave me alone!” I shriek at the demons, shoving their leader back with a strong shove and bolting down the street, tripping over my shoes as I run. My heart beats a fearful tattoo into my chest, my feet slapping the asphalt, my breath ragged and tired. I don’t stop though. Just run. Run, run, run.

 

More demons. Everywhere! Every street, every house, every car… filled with horrendous, horrible fiends. All out to get me. They sent them--I know they did! Oh, how I wish I knew who they were!

 

‘They’ll make sure you die a long, painful death, Timothy.’ James whispers.

 

“Get away!” I scream, running right through a throng of vampires. I feel their dead, cold fingers rake my skin, trying desperately to draw blood. I cry out and run on. My chest is on fire. I don’t stop.

 

‘Keep running.’ James urges me on. ‘Keep going. Don’t stop. Just run.’

 

I grunt in determination and fly forward. I won’t let them be satisfied! Never!

 

Main street. I scramble down the empty sidewalk, looking left and right for those wretched beasts. I notice the stores, and stumble to a halt in horror. Rows of yellowed skeletons and putrid corpses hang on display, their empty eyes gazing sightlessly through the window. Gravestones, cracked and moulding, are arranged in a row, wishing their dead owners peaceful rests. Bats hang motionless in the air, their mouths frozen mid-shriek. Giant spiders climb the walls. Rats scurry over the linoleum tiles. Green slime and scarlet blood stains paint the walls and floor in disgusting patterns.

 

‘Overrun by the devil.’ James whispers in a depressed tone. ‘This town is owned by the devil now. You can’t escape, Timothy. You’re dead. You’ll be turned into one of them, or you’ll end up like those skeletons in the window. Miserable. Your soul will never rest. Poor you. Poor, poor Timothy.’

 

“No,” I moan. “I can’t die yet! James, help me!” I cry, falling to my knees.

 

‘No one can help you, Timothy. You’re already dead. The monsters will kill you. You’ll die a horrible death, as will your brothers and sisters and parents and friends. Bloody, terrible deaths. Screams of excruciating pain as you are ripped apart, then put back together as a terrific demon. Run, if you want. But only a miracle can help you now.’

 

I sob, crying out to the Heavens. I pray and apologize, asking for forgiveness for whatever horrible sins I’ve committed to deserve death by demons. I’ve been a good man… I’ve… I’ve never done anything to hurt another person--on purpose at least. Those pills! I should’ve taken them sooner. What that would’ve done, I don’t know. Was that my sin? Neglecting my health?

 

Where is James?

 

James. He’s gone. They… they got him! Oh, dear God, I’m next! They’re coming, now!

“Help me!” I plead, screaming at the starry sky. “Help me, help me, please, someone help me!” I hold the last syllable for a long moment, until my lungs are completely deprived of air. The shriek echoes through the atmosphere, fading into the blackness, eaten up by the demons’ laughs, which have begun to sound once again.

 

A bright light veers onto the street, speeding towards me. Bright… sweet… heroic light…

 

‘Angels!’ James cries.

 

I sigh in relief, laughing breathlessly. Beautiful, pure white light sent straight from the Heavens, just for me.

 

“Thank you!” I yell to the stars, smiling, and fling myself into the midst of the angels’ embrace.

Author's Note

Like I said in the description, this was written for school. It's one of my favorite pieces at the moment, as well. :)

Reviews

[Dale Pavolko]

This story I like. I felt for the guy. It was like I was with him. Now I was laughing at him, but in a good way because at the same time I was laughing I knew what he was
going through. I think that as the author you accomplished a very important goal. You kept me entertained. Thank you.