Falter Kingdom

by Michael J Seidlinger

  Watch videos.

  “It’s like opening a gateway of content when you sign in. There’s always new uploads. New stuff.

  “Huh?

  “I haven’t...

  “What is this? I’ve never heard of this kind of thing before.

  “ASMR?

  “I don’t remember subscribing to this guy’s channel. Damn, he has a lot of these ASMR videos.

  “What does ASMR stand for? It’s an acronym, right?”

  I’ll look it up. Yeah. First search result, boom: It’s an acronym. It’s an acronym for Autonomous Sensory Meridian Response. I could read more about it, but the first line says as much as I need to know. This stuff is supposed to calm you down. Soothing voice and stuff.

  I like that.

  I need that right now.

  “I think I’ll... click on the one here.”

  It’s a red-haired woman with really, really bright blue eyes. She gazes at the camera in a way that makes me not want to look away. She speaks in a low, breathy whisper.

  “I think they manipulated the sound or something... everything seems really close. Like she’s...” I’m looking for the right words. “Yeah, that’s it—like she’s whispering right into my ear.”

  It really does work though.

  The more I watch this, the calmer I am.

  The calmer I am, the more aware I am of what’s going on. I’m curious about how I’ve gotten so used to the symptoms now. I’m so used to them that I can’t imagine what it would be like to literally be alone. I’m so used to them that I always dress in layers. I’m so used to them that I’ve been online twice as much because there’s nothing else left in my room except for clothes, furniture, and this laptop.

  And then I kind of just stop thinking at all.

  “This is really working...”

  And I sit here, watching the entire twenty-minute video.

  During it, I can’t help but think that you are watching it too.

  When it’s done, I yawn.

  “That’s really great. It works. I think I’m going to... subscribe to more ASMR videos.”

  I do that, clicking around, subscribing to the more popular ones, the ones that also have a bunch of collections videos where they talk about various things they collect. There’s one channel that has a bunch of videos of a guy who just repeats words over and over again.

  “What do you think? Should I subscribe to the repeating-word guy?

  “I don’t really know why I’m talking to you.

  “I think I’m hearing you say something but I can’t really tell. It kind of feels like I’m just talking to myself, all these thoughts. Makes me feel a little insane. I guess that’s kind of the point though.”

  Could be one of the symptoms. I’m not really sure.

  “Are you there?

  “It’s okay; you don’t have to respond. I don’t really know why I’m even doing this. I don’t really know what you are, H. A demon, duh, but what’s a demon, really? There are speed demons and people called demons in video games and other sports, but they are just people who are insanely good at things.

  “I’m curious, that’s the thing.

  “I’m curious, even more so after today.

  “It’s like I want to ask you questions and be the aggressive one, the one talking, but when I do, I’m not sure I’m talking to anyone.

  “It’s like, it’s like... I’m talking to a wall sometimes.

  “But then I can also sense that you’re near.

  “What time is it?”

  It’s almost three A.M.

  I didn’t look at the clock on the desktop. I didn’t look at my phone. But I knew. I just knew—nearly three A.M. Then I look and it’s true. It’s 2:58 A.M.

  Is this frightening or exciting?

  What’s happening, I can’t help but let happen. I can’t turn away from it; I tried ignoring it and that didn’t work.

  I look around the house, the mess.

  “Oh, fuck this.

  “You agree, right?

  “Yeah. Yeah, exactly.

  “I don’t want to be in this house right now. I want to be somewhere else. I’m not cleaning this shit up. No. I’m not.

  “I think the only choice I have is to go for a drive.”

  And it’s just like that—it seems right to leave.

  I leave the laptop sitting there, a flicker of trust. I know that I’ve left the laptop there, just like I know that I am basically just talking to myself.

  I won’t say that was something else.

  But at the same time, it’s exciting that it could be.

  When I pull out of the driveway, I don’t have anywhere in mind to go. I just go. I start driving down one street until I end up on another street. This late into the night, it’s pretty cool to pretend that I’m the last one alive. Or that I’m living in an alternate dimension where I can start and stop time and there’s nobody but me and my car, and whatever it is that I want in my life.

  It’s fun to pretend it’s the end of the world.

  I end up merging onto the interstate and I count how many semitrucks I see. It’s the wide-open road and I’m the one little dinky car sharing it with all the other semitrucks.

  I don’t know where I’m going until I take the exit.

  That exit.

  I make a right at the first light.

  Another right at the second stoplight.

  It’s like I knew where I’d be going but kept it from myself, until I’m driving fast down that completely pitch-black back road.

  They really need to repave the road.

  The asphalt is chipped and really hard on the tires. But that doesn’t get me to slow down. This drive is mine, and it’s all about the speed and night air brushing past my face.

  When I get there, I drive down that dirt road because I don’t want anyone to see my car. No one’s going to see my car, but still, I don’t want my car to be seen.

  It’s funny how I can just pretend like I don’t already know what I’m doing. It’s really funny how I can just stay in the moment, thinking, “This is happening,” and pretend like I’m not actually heading over there, pulling the car into park, shutting off the engine, sitting in the dark, listening as I say, “Here we are.”

  I said it but I stay in the car for a long time.

  Guess it’s because normally this would be kind of freaky, in the middle of the forest, dead end of night, and after all the stuff I know can go wrong, I’m still here. By myself.

  A rush of ideas comes to mind.

  I’m thinking a family of serial killers about to attack me.

  I’m thinking a big-ass feral St. Bernard with rabies about to make it so that I’m stranded in this car for days, weeks, starving to death.

  I’m thinking of all kinds of stuff that I’m pretending I didn’t see in movies. But no, that’s also all just padding, stuff I have fun thinking about, before I make that long walk that’s really not that long.

  It’s just for effect.

  Yeah, I’m on that long walk...

  It’s actually not as quiet as you’d think, being out here at night. You hear all kinds of noises—bugs, animals, the wind blowing stuff around—and that really does help.

  For a while, I don’t use the flashlight on my phone.

  I just walk the path I’ve walked so many times, in complete darkness.

  If, like, Blaire were here, she’d be impressed. Becca, she wouldn’t care. She’s already created some image of me in her mind.

  Around the time the path opens up into a big field, I start shining the flashlight around. I step on empty cans and other junk—guess there was a party here recently.

  I listen for people’s voices but I don’t hear anything.

  It’s an interesting image, thinking that someone’s nearby, maybe passed out drunk and sleeping under the stars, and here I am, the definition of late to the party.

  I keep on walking.

  Soon it’s back to a narrow dirt path.


  Past that, it’s pure forest.

  This is where it’s tricky, but somehow I know where I’m going.

  When I get there, I shine the light up at the crown, staring at the tunnel. I stand at the opening, tuning in to the noises surrounding Falter Kingdom.

  I don’t hear anything.

  The moon hides behind clouds, making it hard to even see the ground at my feet. I sit down cross-legged at the opening of the tunnel.

  I stare into the darkness.

  I say that I don’t know why I’m here but it’s a lie.

  I’ve been holding it back until it’s appropriate to just say it.

  And that moment’s right now: I’m here to see you.

  I’m curious. I want to see what you look like, H. And I mean really what you look like. I figure this is the place where it’s most possible, the place where we first met. I don’t know a whole lot about how this works, how energy is used and transferred and stuff, but I figure if it’s near a weak spot where demons can and will exist, then this is where I might see you.

  I’m right here, H.

  “I’m right here,” I say aloud.

  Breathe in.

  Breathe out.

  Listen to the quiet.

  I have to be patient.

  I have to calm down my nerves. I’m shaking. I’ve been trying to focus on other things to avoid the fact that my heart is beating so hard it’s like it’s coming out of my chest. This isn’t easy for me. I have to believe that I’m here for a reason. It’s the only way I’ll be able to calm myself down.

  And I’ll wait.

  H, I’m right here.

  I’ll say hi first.

  “Hey.”

  I wait—wait for some kind of noise.

  I sit here, back straight, staring into the void, trying to remain focused on what I see—which is nothing—but my mind quickly goes to different things. The word “void” is one thing. Is it really the right word to use in this situation? I’ve always liked the word “void.” It has this eerie kind of connotation. I hope I’m using the word “connotation” right. I think I am, but I can easily doubt myself the more I think about things.

  I look up at the stars. You can’t really see them so easily from back home. But out here, you can see every single one. Some of them twinkle. More than a few just stay there, all bold.

  “H, you there?”

  I feel a cool gust of air escaping the tunnel.

  Then nothing happens for a really long time.

  It feels like forever, and I watch it go light, then dark, and light again, as clouds roll past in the sky. Mostly it’s just the moon and me.

  I know H is nearby, somehow.

  I don’t really know how it works, but I want to know. That’s why I’m here. I have to know. It’s either be curious or be a fucking pussy. It’s easier to be a pussy and just run away from what’s happening, but then I’d never be able to forgive myself, because what I’m seeing and feeling is nothing I’ve ever experienced before. It’s both crazy and cool. I don’t know how to describe it. That’s basically why I’m so curious.

  Life can be so dull when every day it’s school and then home and then parties and everyone acting like some concert or football game or dance is like some big deal. When it really isn’t. It isn’t. I have a hard time finding interest in what’s already there, everything laid out in front of me like it’s already been lived, prepackaged for all of us graduating high school. We go through steps and never really make our own footprints in the ground.

  We just step where everyone else has stepped.

  No new paths.

  I don’t like that. I hate it, really.

  But this, what’s happened, it’s different. You hear so much about demons and hauntings and possession, but it’s just like being in a movie or becoming a rock star: it never really happens to you.

  But it’s happening to me.

  See? I can’t just be afraid.

  What’s happening is worth understanding as long as I keep my distance.

  I’ve thought about it and I’ve made up my mind: I want to understand; more than anyone would want to understand me, I want to understand this. Everyone around me just wants to be around me, like some entourage.

  I want to care.

  Most people probably don’t care about anything other than themselves.

  So what, then, if I sit here all night?

  It gets lighter around me, but it remains dead-end night in that tunnel.

  I hear footsteps nearby, but it passes.

  Just someone, a person, or maybe my imagination.

  But I’m here. I’m here to say hi.

  I’m here to understand.

  I’m here to see H.

  Shortly before dawn, I stand back up. My legs ache like hell, but I stand there for, like, another hour.

  I talk into the tunnel: “How are you feeling?”

  When the sun finally replaces the moon, I say into the tunnel, “Good morning.”

  But there’s nothing there for me to see.

  I’ll walk back at some point, but I know that it was right to have gone here. It was the right choice. I needed to sort things out. Not everything is sorted, but I’m beginning to understand where my priorities are. There’ll be an exorcism and there’ll be all the usual stuff, step by step, that will end up being my life... but something is happening here that doesn’t happen to everyone. Only, like, 40 percent of the world ever experiences stuff like this. It’s common enough that you know all the symptoms, but it’s special in that way that you end up on a short enough list.

  It’s true, though I didn’t want to admit it:

  I will be remembered at Meadows as the guy who was haunted.

  I’ll be like the others who ended up the same way.

  But I really don’t care. I don’t care what they think because what they think is clearly what everyone else has already said. Nothing new there.

  I understand all of that.

  So I’m ready to understand everything else.

  Before leaving, I say into the tunnel, “See you around.”

  And I make the not-so-long walk back to my car.

  I don’t realize how tired I am until I’m almost home. I start to nod off while driving. It’s bad, yeah, but that’s why I drive slower, and I keep things under the speed limit. I look at the time on the dashboard, and it’s early enough that only the morning people are really going to be out.

  The sky is a shade of blue. It’s more a mixture of the end of night and the first couple blinks of new day.

  It’s dark enough still that I need my headlights on.

  Funny to note: I didn’t have them on the entire time I was on the interstate. I thought the trucks and cars honking at me were just doing me a favor, trying to keep me awake. I’m okay though. No accidents.

  I pull into the driveway and rub my eyes.

  Yawns can feel so good sometimes, you know? Same way there’s nothing like a good stretch. I glance up at my window the way I always do and I’m surprised to see that the lights are on. Not only that, I see a figure in the window. I blink and it’s gone and I’m kind of like, “Was that you, H?”

  Maybe I made that part up.

  I am pretty tired. I probably just imagined it.

  I leave the car where it’s going to be left and head up the walkway to the front door. Inside the house, I don’t notice the change right way. It’s kind of like a slow burn, how sometimes you light something on fire and it doesn’t flare up the way you expect, not right way. I notice the laptop first; it’s right where I left it, but it’s been opened. A video plays, an ASMR video I haven’t watched.

  All the empty bottles and garbage, even the board and its pointer—it’s all gone. Went missing or something. I’m not playing stupid. I know what happened. I can put all the pieces together.

  So I might not completely understand it, but yeah, I know what just happened. Scratch that—I know what happened while I was gone. There’s no mess and no sign that th
ere was ever a party.

  I sit down on the couch. I laugh. “But I like the version where the party still happens because, like, everyone still gets a good scare.” Then I add, “And we get a good laugh.”

  I lie down on the couch, laptop on my stomach, and I start up the ASMR video from the beginning.

  Just as I’m beginning to nod off, I hear it.

  It’s my voice but it’s not me who’s saying it. It’s different from the other times.

  The voice says, “Welcome home.”

  And I know it’s you. It makes me shiver but I let it pass.

  Keeping my eyes on the video, right before I fall asleep, I say: “Home sweet home.”

  I think that’s supposed to be funny.

  I wonder if H laughs, or if it’s possible for H to laugh.

  I’ve been waiting for this. It’s so sudden—know how sleep sort of pulls over you like a sheet, like you’re a body being covered but you’re not actually dead? Yeah, that’s how it starts. Pure sleep, the kind that just works, and you don’t have to work for it. It just comes. Just sleep. Guess it’s there, waiting for me. I find it even though I don’t really know what I have. It is sleep in the most basic kind of way. It’s nothing and everything until I see it open in on a familiar setting. I can’t put my finger on where I am, only that it’s happening again.

  Like I said, I’ve been waiting for this.

  It feels like before. So real, I can sense that this is reality, but then I know I’m dreaming. If I really need confirmation, I can hear myself breathing. I don’t know how to really explain it all but it’s there. I’m just outside of anything real. I’m in this, right now, and I recognize these people.

  Here’s how it all comes to me:

  I see the bright blue sky first. Second, I see the trees, the forest, and I hear the various trappings that make a person know immediately that he’s out in the middle of nowhere. I’m talking the sound of birds, the bugs biting at you, the smell that’s supposed to mean that there’s no smog, none of the usual pollution. It’s all there, and it wraps around me like I’ve never left.

  Then we’re walking.

  I say “we” because there are three people with me.

  There’s a girl and two guys. We’re all talking, daring one another to jump into a nearby river. We’re talking usual talk, the kind of stuff that’s all about toys and games and the stuff that’s supposed to fill a young person’s mind in movies. But see, I’m right in the middle of another scene.