by Quil Carter
Then his heart gave a pang. He was reminded what a mess he was in that moment. He hadn’t showered for days, or slept. He was mentally and emotionally exhausted and a complete wreck. And Tav had been here to witness all of this, every step into his descent into depression and, seemingly, insomnia-induced insanity. Tav had even been there to hear him confront that silver-haired man and accuse him of having something to do with Erick’s disappearance.
Tav had watched me become one with crazy. I bet he would rather date a dead dog than me. The only thing I have on my side is the lack of available gay guys. If he did want to go out with me it would be from lack of options – not because he actually likes me.
Ben frowned at his own self-derisive thoughts. He got up off of the couch, holding a blanket over his back, and walked over to the closed curtains of the living room. Ben drew them open and looked out into the parking lot the living room faced.
Several cars were out there, being illuminated by street lamps. The workers who replaced the lights really needed to work on this parking lot, though since this was a shitty area of Denver it would probably take them a few years to get around to it.
Ben scanned the parking lot and let out a long sigh. He went to turn away from the window when he did a double-take.
The silver-haired man was standing underneath a street light, two feet away from Ben’s parked Civic.
“HEY!” Ben found himself yell. He threw his blanket off of him and dashed out of the apartment, ignoring the cold chill of winter that immediately coated his body in frozen air. He quickly ran down the steps two by two, yelling at the man to stop as he tried to quickly get his feet onto the pavement.
Then he slipped. Ben’s leg slid out from under him, making him fall awkwardly on his backside. He yelped, but no quicker had the cry spilled from his lips did it turn into a frustrated yell. Without testing to see if he was injured or not, Ben forced himself up and cleared the last several steps to the sidewalk.
“Ben?” Tav’s voice sounded behind him but Ben ignored it. He looked up as he stumbled again on the sidewalk and looked to his blue Civic to see where the man was now.
A frustrated cry burst from his lips. He was fucking gone!
“HEY!” Ben yelled in frustration, anger burned his throat as he ran across the parking lot, looking in all directions to see where the man could’ve gone. There was no way he could’ve disappeared into thin air. It was impossible! “Hey!” Ben screamed again, more frustration claiming him with every passing second.
But there was nothing in front of him but darkness and the faint glow of the street lamps that reflected shining illuminations on the metal bodies of the other parked cars.
“Fuck!” Ben screamed, kicking the tire of his Civic. He looked around before slamming his hand down on the hood of his car, still looking in all directions for the man he was so sure he had seen.
“Benji?” Tav said behind him. “What the hell is going on?”
“I saw him!” Ben whirled around and yelled. Tav jumped, his brown eyes wide with shock as he stared back at Ben. “I fucking saw that silver-haired man, I know I did. He was right beside my fucking car, Tav. I saw him! He knows where I live; he knows what car is mine, and I know he knows where the fuck Erick is – or what happened to him. I know, Tav. I know!” Ben yelled, not even realizing that he was rambling. He turned around and stomped his foot in frustration before once again slamming a hand down on his car. “I know it!”
“Ben… come inside…” Tav’s voice cracked from emotion as he watched Ben start to pace around the car.
“I’m not fucking crazy, Tav!” Ben snapped. His hands travelled up to his head as he walked around his car. “I’m not fucking crazy; I know he has something to do with Erick’s disappearance.” Then he paused and looked over at his friend. Tav’s already stricken eyes widened further as his friend’s own green eyes locked with his. “The answer is in that box. The answer is in the box, isn’t it Tav!”
“I – I don’t know…” Tav whimpered, shaking his head. “Come inside, Ben, please–”
“It is! I bet it fucking is!” Ben’s voice rose further, by now the other occupants of the apartment building Ben lived in were looking out their windows to see what the noise was. “There is something in there, and I’ll find out who the fuck killed my fucking brother and I’ll kill him!” Ben’s eyes, wild with madness, brightened as he looked behind Tav back to his apartment. There was movement below him and Tav saw he was twisting the dragon ring on his finger. “I’ll figure it out – I will.” Then suddenly, for reasons Ben didn’t understand, he started saying words he had never heard before.
“So quiet inside here, so tormented soul,” Ben suddenly said. “Nails scraping, cold breath on the winter’s hold.”
“W-what?” Tav blinked, but Ben only shook his head.
“Circling ravens, feast on your eyes. Open to find my secrets, then to your demise.” Ben stopped as the last syllable of the strange poem rolled off of his tongue. “To my demise?” His eyes narrowed before he walked past Tav, shaking his head back and forth like he was in the middle of figuring out a puzzle he hadn’t even realized he had been given the hint to.
“Where the fuck did that just come from?” Tav turned with Ben and saw his friend starting to walk back to the stairs leading to his apartment door. “Ben?”
Ben didn’t answer back, he only kept walking.
“Ben?” Tav called after him.
Elsewhere
A man, possibly in his mid-twenties, with silver hair down to his cheekbones, stared down at the vast expanse of sparkling lights that was the city of Denver. A sullen, yet determined look on his porcelain smooth face.
He had his hands clasped together in front of him and his shoulders squared; standing rigid and stiff like a thousand worries were being balanced on his shoulders. His face seemed to reflect this burden as well, his bottom lip was stiff and his chin held high. He knew no one was watching him but he still felt the need to show this strange world that he was strong and defiant.
There was thick forest around him and behind him, though the scene in front of him was nothing but cityscape and the dark horizon. This was his preferred location; he felt comfort in here even if the forest he was surrounded by was weak and sickly compared to the ones he was used to back home.
Any trees, any greenery, even when sick, were better than that cold, concrete dungeon he had been forced to dwell in for months.
The man continued to stare down at the twinkling lights, the only movement he made was to draw his silver hair over his ears. His hands held long, slender fingers that were adorned with silver and white gold rings encrusted with blue and purple jewels. They matched the flowing white and blue robes he wore underneath the pale cloak he used to help conceal himself.
“How long?” a small voice sounded beside him. The silver-haired man looked to his side towards the voice, and as he did, he quickly drew his hood, the trim encrusted with blue jewels, over his head.
There was a soft crunching of twigs as the other one walked towards him. The silver-haired one could see he was carrying a battery operated lamp that bathed them both in a dim light.
In the light, the silver-haired man was revealed to not be a man at all. He had pointed ears with four earrings in each that hung jewels. His eyes were an unnaturally purple colour, flecked with sparkling light like one was staring at a night sky. There was no denying that from his appearance and his clothing that he was not of this world.
Even though the silver-haired entity seemed to know the second one and vice versa, as soon as the light fell upon him he quickly changed back into a man.
The same man Ben had seen weeks ago.
“I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to startle you,” the small voice said in a tone full of submission.
The silver-haired man, now dressed in black jeans and a blue plaid shirt, shook his head.
“You did not startle me, young one,” he replied quietly before turning his gaze back to the illumin
ated city below him. He gazed out at it, his stoic face troubled but his shoulders still square, before he answered the young man’s original question.
“It will not be long now,” he replied. “Are you prepared?”
A chilled silence descended on the two. “I just want this over with,” he said in a sad and broken whisper.
“Anea thanks you for your cooperation,” was the silver-haired one’s reply, his voice as cold as the winter air around them.
In the distance several crickets chirped before a sob broke the silence that overwhelmed the dead of night. A small susurration of emotion; one that would turn the attention of any normal man.
But the silver-haired one was no man. He only spared the boy a fleeting glance before laying a hand against the young one’s tear-stained cheek.
“When the moon bathes his silver glow upon the ruins, it will be time to go home,” he told him quietly.
The second one nodded, his dark green eyes large and staring, and with that, the lamp went out.
Later that week
So quiet inside here, so tormented soul,
Nails scraping, cold breath on the winter’s hold,
Circling ravens, feast on your eyes,
Open to find my secrets, then to your demise.
Ben was alone but in physical form only, in the harsh realities of his quickly slipping mind he was surrounded by people.
Surrounded to the point where he couldn’t breathe
He looked around the dark room he had found himself in, but everything was shrouded in a thick cloak of black. All he could see was the icy breath escaping from his lips in short wisps, small puffs of heat that fled from his body as if they themselves were afraid of being close to him.
Then sounds, faint sounds, teeth chattering together and skin rubbing against hair as Ben wrapped his hands around the back of his head. Soon this was followed by the sound of a thunk; it was Ben dropping to his knees. Though the only sensation that told him what position his body was in was the cold ground that was as concealed in darkness as the world his nightmares had taken him to.
And in this nightmare those eyes were on him again. The thousands of eyes that told him the darkness around him was concealing greater threats. That there was no depth to this blackness just miles and miles of eyes that watched his every move, and counted each desperate breath that escaped from his constricting throat.
This time Erick’s eyes were not there. In this vision the people who surrounded him were strangers and threats. He could hear their whispers, always their whispers.
But it was different this new nightmare. Unlike the usual dreams where their voices were muffled and distant – he could now hear what they were saying.
I can hear what they’re saying. I have been hearing what they’ve been saying since I ran into that parking lot.
Then the tension that had been tightening around Ben finally snapped. With the sounds of stressed wires around him, Ben let out a frustrated cry and tried to close his eyes. But he only found he had no eyes to close.
The voices around him seemed amused by this, they murmured to each other. Or some of them did. Others still whispered and chanted that strange poem, again and again in unison as if wanting to make sure Ben would never forget it.
And what were they saying? I know what they’re saying. Ben craned his ears to listen, to try and pick up the familiar rhythm of that chant. Ben could hear the dry rasping voice; he could hear the slight variations of words. If he could just concentrate… he could make sense of this madness.
What things lurk in shadow, that turns fire to night?
Ben sucked in a breath and strained his ears until they filled with muffled static. The confusion and frustration was overwhelming him to the point of delirium. It was like a demon was resting on his back, murmuring these transgressions into his ears. He knew he had to make out their words but he also didn’t know the consequences of what those words would bring.
“Enough,” Ben whispered. He stared down but all he could see was blackness.
The eyes were still on him, the thousands and thousands of eyes.
What things lurk in shadow, that turns fire to night?
Does it matter what slinks so, when you’ve lost your sight?
Surrounded by smoke, in black shadowy lands.
Climb your mountains to find me.
“Benjamin Zahn,” Ben yelled back speaking at the same time as the voices.
Ben rose to standing. He looked around the cold darkness, swearing that he could feel their hot breath as they whispered this poem to him. There was an unease inside of him that told him if he just looked – he could see the cold plumes of their breath.
“What do you want with me!?” Ben screamed. He clenched his hands around his head and yelled curses, but his words were easily drowned by the voices.
In caves of castles, where does folly hide?
Knows not, godless creature, what the light cannot find.
Ben jolted as he heard a loud thunderous sound; it was followed by another – and another. A series of deep percussions that made the fillings in his teeth vibrate and shudder.
His heart raced, the eyes on him became even more unbearable; sightless eyes that bore into him like an army of needle pricks though still invisible in this nightmare. They were staring at him, a world of eyes, all locked on the single small being in this ocean of nothingness.
So this is what madness feels like?
“Finish it.” a new voice murmured.
Ben jumped; the voice had whispered so close to his ear that he could feel his hot breath on his neck.
Quickly, he whirled around to face the man, but in his place there was only darkness. Instead Ben opened his mouth to demand for the mysterious voice to reveal himself, when there was another deafening boom
Then a light.
Ben blinked as he saw an illumination in the inky darkness. Through the formless and boundary-less void he saw a brilliantly lit box, confusingly only a few steps away from him.
Cautiously Ben took a step towards it, hearing his heart throw itself against his rib cage as the anticipation grew inside of him.
The unseeing eyes continued to watch him. Ben was blind to them but he seemed to sense the oculars widening with the same anticipation that he felt. They seemed to judge every move that he made, every inhale that he took. He felt like a gladiator in an arena, with the eager spectators picking over his every step.
Ben closed the distance between him and the box and extended his hand.
And when he spoke the line he knew the voice wanted to hear; Ben could hear the phantom speak with him.
The voice was oddly familiar.
Cease yourself from your toils or grow insane from your hand,
And catch me, and catch me, Benjamin Zahn.
Ben lunged over to grab the silver box but the instant his hand touched it everything around him changed. Light infiltrated his vision as did many other senses. It took him a few confused moments before he realized he was in his bedroom.
Ben squinted as his eyes adjusted to the glow coming from the fish tank. It wasn’t bright enough to light his room but it illuminated enough of the area for him to see where he was at. And where he was was on the floor in front of the closet, with his hands outstretched towards Erick’s box.
Then there was another loud sound and he realized it was someone knocking hard on his door.
“Ben! Ben, please open up!” Tav’s desperate voice called. Ben didn’t break his gaze from the box.
“Please!”
There was no urge inside of Ben to answer him back; he only continued to stare at the box. He had no idea how long he had been kneeling over that box. How long had he been inside of that lucid nightmare? Six hours? Twelve? More? Ben looked towards his curtain-covered windows but he could see nothing through them. He did see his digital clock at least and it was telling him that he had been stationary enough for the sun to rise and for Tav to come back from his college classes.
The knocking continued, but it was more like banging. Ben realized in his sporadic thoughts that it had been the thunderous booms he had been hearing in his head.
He didn’t move his body, all that moved was his lips.
He was murmuring to himself.
“Ben? Please…”
Suddenly there was a loud crash and even though a normal man’s reflexes would have him jump, Ben was still unmoving.
Tav had kicked the door in.
“My god, I thought you had overdosed!” he cried. He ran over and threw his arms around Ben’s shoulders. “Why didn’t you answer me, asshole!?”
Ben didn’t answer back, and in the silence Tav could hear his murmuring.
Ben could feel his roommate tense up. Then, with slow movements, Ben reached over and opened the box.
“Don’t you see, Tav?” Ben whispered.
Tav let go of him and rose; he took a cautious step back, not trusting Ben’s tone.
“He’s been trying to tell me what to do the whole time,” Ben said in the same eerie whisper. He looked up and gave Tav a smile so unsettling it made Tav’s stomach fill with nervousness. The dimly lit room seemed to only intensify Ben’s crazed and manic-filled eyes.
“I’ve been too deaf to hear the voices.”
Tav looked down at him; he seemed to wilt like a flower in a heat wave under Ben’s intense stare.
“Who is… he?”
Ben kept smiling, then turned to the box. He pressed the box flaps down and started picking up the various items inside.
“So quiet inside here, so tormented soul,” Ben whispered, repeating the poem that was all-too-familiar to him now. He picked up a couple of Erick’s old comic books and laid them down beside him.
He reached back in. “Nails scraping, cold breath on the winter’s hold.”
