by A. Catherine
EIGHT
Heather
“HELP ME!”
My eyes shot open, all around me was white. I had no sense of up and down. I’d been here before. The hairs on the back of my neck and arms rose. The air felt cold and wet, much like a foggy night.
I struggled to adjust to the disorienting white light but couldn’t. My eyes searched for anything that could bring them focus, but there was nothing.
Even in all this nothingness, I felt I wasn’t alone. I couldn’t explain it, there was someone standing right in front of me, watching me, but I couldn’t see them.
But I felt them.
“Who’s there?” I whispered.
My voice echoed as though it hit a wall that didn’t exist. I still sensed whatever was there with me, but they gave no indication of their presence.
It had to be another dream, but then again, the last time I was here I wasn’t dreaming, and then someone was dying under my hands.
“Help!” I heard that familiar plea and whipped around, expecting to see his figure curled up on the floor as I had before, but there was nothing.
My heart searched for a name to the familiar voice. “Mason? Where are you?!” I yelled.
“I’m so sorry, Heather.” Those words echoed at different levels, ping-ponging around like a spirit in the wind.
He was everywhere and nowhere. I continued to spin to try to find the source of his pleas.
There. A slight discoloration in the white drew my eye. It was subtle, like a shadow, only slightly darker than the bright white of the room. It hovered in the air in the shape of a person. Although I couldn’t see its eyes, it was watching mine.
It wasn’t Mason, it didn’t feel like him.
“Is this real?” I asked tentatively. I sure hoped not.
The figure began to move into a circle, I turned with it, maintaining our distance—my instinct telling me not to lose sight of it. Its form began to darken, allowing me to see more of it. It floated and hovered like smoke—yet seemed almost like a liquid.
I felt something tickle my ankle, breaking my gaze I looked down to see dark smoky liquid swirling around. I gasped, it didn’t hurt, in fact, it was in a way beautiful. The contact felt like a cold mist grazing my skin.
My heart jumped in my throat when I looked back up to see the creature much closer to me. The misty feeling it emanated touching my skin. It lifted what seemed like a hand and touched my face. I stood perfectly still, mesmerized by the thing that watched me like a predator watched its prey.
Was it a predator? Was I its prey? Why couldn’t I move away from it?
This had to be a dream, things like this didn’t happen in real life.
The creature moved its hand to my chest. Leeching fear crept into my body. What if it killed me right here? What if it had the power to stop my heart without breaking a sweat?
Staring at the creature, I almost felt its intentions, feeling the unspoken, stirring aggression that hadn’t yet come from its essence. Was this it? Would this thing take me?
In a split second, the atmosphere changed, the whiteness around us began to blow away on a phantom breeze, replaced with a sky of deep red and black. It looked like the white was being torn away like fabric to reveal a darker, more sinister landscape.
The creature whipped its head around to look at a figure sitting on a black rock not twenty feet away from where we stood. The creature hissed and moved away from me, turning full-bodied towards the other figure.
The cold mist left my body and all my muscles felt heavy. I looked around me at the new place my subconscious created—the ground made up of black, sharp stone and glassy obsidian. The sky was red with black clouds and an eclipsed sun shown in the distance. The air no longer felt wet and cold, instead now dry and hot.
A sharp breeze blew coarse, black sand into my face. I shielded my eyes until the wind passed. When I returned my gaze back to the two figures, the distant one was still sitting, unmoved. The creature who had since been focused on me zeroed its attention entirely on the other figure. It looked angry, its liquid smoky skin looking jagged, less fluid than it was before.
The creature moved closer to the figure, who had its eyes closed and head bowed, as if in meditation. The creature hissed again and muttered something in a language I wasn’t familiar with—the sound raspy. When the figure didn’t so much as budge, the creature screeched and moved closer, only this time extending its shadow hands, shifting them into long talons to attack the figure.
The figure opened its eyes, which were a glowing orange and red, like churning molten lava. An aura of what looked like smoke and electric sparks shot out around the figure's body in short bursts. One of the sparks slammed into the creature, causing it to screech so loud my ears rang.
Another, stronger jolt hit the creature again, and this time the spot it hit disintegrated the smoky essence. Again, a jolt hit. Over and over, with each hit more and more of the creature broke apart. The figure didn’t cease the jolts until the last of the creature had shattered and floated away into the wind like sand.
The fire and electricity retreated back into the body of the figure. Calming into darkness once more. The figure closed its eyes, hiding the molten glow they once had.
My breath was shallow, coming in short gasps. Who was that? How did they do that?
It was one hell of a weird dream.
The figure stood in one fluid motion and turned to walk away.
My feet acted on their own, following after it.
“Wait,” my voice cracked. They didn’t stop. I cleared my throat and spoke again more clearly, “Please! Can you tell me what that was?”
I was rushing to catch up with it when my foot caught on a sharp piece of rock and suddenly I was falling towards the shards of volcanic glass below. I braced my hands to catch my fall, and when I landed, they were cut. Stinging pain shot up my arms. My knees felt scraped up as well.
When I righted myself and looked up the figure was right above me. Did I really move that fast? Or did it come back to me?
It was looking down at me. I could see more details, though it was still shrouded by shadows. It appeared to be male, and its eyes weren’t glowing red anymore, instead, they were just as dark as the rest of his body.
He just stood there, staring at me. I stumbled back to my feet, brushing off the dirt and sand on my pants. I winced, looking at my scraped-up hands.
Now that I was standing I could see that the figure was about a foot taller than me, his clothes were dark as well, he was shrouded in a cloak of shadow hiding his features. It made me wonder what he looked like outside those shadows.
“Care to share your name?” I asked.
He just watched me, no response. Even though his features were hidden by the shadow, I could still see a slight indication that he was confused. Maybe he didn’t understand my language? But why wouldn’t he? It was my dream after all.
“Okay, if you don’t want to tell me that, could you tell me what that thing was?” I tried a different question. He still didn’t answer.
“Really not a talker, are you? Okay, I’ll start…I guess. My name is Heather.”
“I know who you are,” his reply was swift, blunt.
My eyes widened. “So you do speak.” His baritone voice evoking electric shocks under my skin. “If you know who I am, then can’t I know who you are?” I asked.
“No,” he stated.
“Why not?” Instead of answering he turned to look next to him.
“I have to go,” he said, turning to leave.
“Hey! Wait, you didn’t answer my question.” He turned back to me, and I swear a phantom smirk appeared on his mouth. He continued to walk away.
I huffed. “Where are you going?” He paused only for a moment to point at me.
“Time to wake up.” Before I could understand what he meant I was jolted out of my slumber by the sound of my alarm beeping.
I looked around; I was back in my room.
I was alwa
ys a vivid dreamer, but recently, it seemed my dreams were becoming even more active each night. I pulled out my journal sitting on my desk and started to jot down what I had seen. Every detail I could remember.
After finishing, I decided to look further back in the journal. I saw symbols, strange places, and horrible creatures in my dreams from about four months ago at the beginning of the year.
And then there was the entry from the previous week. When I had a nervous breakdown during class. I was checked by doctors and psychiatrists. One theory was that I may have been schizophrenic. After spending twenty-four hours sedated in the psych ward, they deemed it a stress-related breakdown and sent me home.
I stopped on a page in my journal, where three symbols were scribbled all over the page.
I traced the largest one on the page with my finger. Its swirls made it look graceful, but it had sharp points as if to add significance. For some reason, these symbols had appeared in almost all of my dreams, and I had no idea what they meant.
While tracing the symbol I felt a presence behind me, causing the hairs on the back of my neck to rise. I froze, feeling like it was hovering over me. I flipped around, but there was no one there. It was weird. I must’ve been going insane.
The image of the dark figure appeared again in my mind. He had refused to tell me who he was. The fire and electricity made him seem dangerous, but I wasn’t afraid of him, apprehensive maybe.
But not afraid. Not the same way I was with the first creature. The first creature felt like it had been there for a while, almost like it was always there. The man was new, though I suppose my subconscious was simply fabricating images to deal with the stress of finals.
“I should give them names. Figure and creature are too similar, I’ll get them mixed up,” I said out loud as I jotted down the last of my dream in the journal.
I went to my closet to pick out an outfit for the day. I held up a navy-blue blouse on a hanger and looked in the mirror.
My mind didn’t even focus on it. I mindlessly put it back and grabbed a white sleeveless blouse instead. I pulled on a pair of skinny jeans and tore off my pajama shirt to put on a bra.
For a moment I smelled cinnamon, I looked at my wax Scentsy against the wall. I was pretty sure I put lavender in there. I shrugged it off and put on the blouse.
As I went to work readying myself for the day in the bathroom, my mind kept flashing back to the dream, seeing those glass rocks, the eclipsed red sky…I brushed my hair, applied makeup, all the while letting my mind rake over every detail of it.
I need to get a life. I sighed to myself.
As I turned off the light to the bathroom I peered once more into the mirror. Just as the light went out, I saw a dark figure standing behind me. It looked eerily like the figure in my dream.
A squeak escaped me, my heart jumping into my throat. I whipped around, flicking on the light in one sweeping motion. No one.
What the…?
I turned back to the mirror, nothing.
I took a moment to catch my breath before turning the light off once more. This time there was no figure.
My mind must’ve been playing tricks on me, probably still affected by the nightmare.
“I need coffee,” I voiced out loud, exiting my room. “Strong coffee.”
What I needed was to get back to reality.
NINE
Heather
THAT DREAM MUST’VE REALLY RATTLED ME because I swear all day I had felt like I was being watched.
I’d never been a paranoid person, so why did I feel so uneasy? It made it difficult to focus on anything, I’d be grading papers and would constantly feel the need to scan the room as though someone were watching me. Even when I would speak with my professor, it felt as if I had a shadow constantly within a few feet of me.
It was normal as a woman to keep aware of my surroundings and automatically trust my gut when I felt followed. But this was different. It was…I don’t even know what it is.
I was between classes with a big enough gap to take lunch. I went to the library and stopped at the little café just inside for a small mocha frap and a chicken wrap.
They had a small study area on the second floor, students called it the fishbowl because the entire floor had glass windows and you could easily watch people studying from the walkways outside.
I was sitting alone, munching on food while scribbling in my planner's past assignments and exams, trying not to let my mind wander into strange places.
I only had one more final before we’d be released for winter break. Three full weeks of relaxation. Though I should have spent those three weeks prepping for my summer trip abroad.
I had signed up to travel to Xian, China to see the Tomb of Qin Shi Huangdi and do some field experience in the other dig sites surrounding the area. It would be beneficial to get ahead of some of the research and readings required before the trip.
It would be my last trip before I completed my degree and it would play a huge role in the last sections of my thesis. I turned a few pages in my planner to the three-week break and wrote down which days I should spend doing those readings. I’d forget if I didn’t write it down.
“Hey, Heather!” I was drawn from my planner to the familiar voice of an old classmate, Miles.
I looked up to see him sporting one of his typical plaid shirts and brown messenger bag.
“Hey Miles, how’s it going?” I asked.
He gestured to his bag. “Just thought I’d get some studying in before my final at two. Mind if I sit with you?” he asked.
I shuffled some of my stuff that was crowding the tablespace. “Yeah, sure! Just let me get some of my crap out of the way. What final are you studying for?”
"African Studies with Dr. Arnold. It’s one essay question with a two-hour gap to complete it. I hear it’s brutal.”
I winced.
“Ooh, yeah I took that class last year, and I can’t give you any comfort. I hear she changes the essay question each term so that students can’t work together on it. But on the bright side, you’re that much closer to being done!” I tried to cheer him up.
“Yeah, one more semester and I can finish my MA and move on to get my Ph.D. What about you? Any more finals?” he asked.
“One more. Anthological Research, it’s just a paper, not a test, thank god. But I haven’t acquired enough sources for the theoretical portion. But hey, what’s another four pages compared to the twelve I already wrote over the last week.”
Miles chuckled. “I wish they told us how hard grad classes were gonna be, I might’ve reconsidered it.”
“No, you wouldn’t have.”
“You’re right. I wouldn’t have, but I would have bought more wine.” We both laughed.
I opened my laptop and logged on, he seemed to get the same idea and pulled his out as well. Opening my paper, I looked at my progress, one more discussion point to hash out over four pages before I could finally submit it tomorrow.
I sighed. “I’m going to find a book real quick for my paper, would you watch my stuff?” I asked, rising from my seat.
Miles snorted and waved me off. “I got you.” I thanked him and left towards the stacks.
Luckily, the fishbowl wasn’t far from the anthologies section of the library. Scanning the sections, I found a portion labeled for Native American symbology, which was the topic of my essay.
I picked up a couple of texts, looking at their basic information in the front to determine if they could be useful for my paper.
After stacking up about three books, I turned to leave the stacks.
“A little light reading?” a voice asked from behind me. I turned around, careful not to knock over the books in my hands. Each one over nine-hundred pages long.
I chuckled. “Anthologies always are,” I joked.
The person who spoke stood about a foot taller than me and was wearing torn baggy jeans, a white shirt with a dark faded black leather jacket over it with a hood attached. In his ears wer
e small, hooped earrings. His hair was brown, shaggy, and reaching just above his shoulders.
He had a black, thin beard line and mustache, his skin was light brown and even deeper rusty eyes. His look screamed rugged biker vibes. And though I’ve seen a lot of those types around this campus—as bikers in the desert are common, this guy was just…enchanting.
For a split second, my mind flashed back to my dream, and a sense of familiarity washed over me. I thought I saw an aura wrap around him that mimicked smoke and molten lava, but when I blinked it was gone.
I shook my head slightly to clear my head, I must’ve seen this guy before, and he somehow ended up in my subconscious somewhere. Although, if I ever saw this guy walking around campus, I’m sure I would’ve remembered it.
