Realistic or Modern A needle into a bug

[kevintheradioguy]

Eko, eko, azarak. Eko, ę̷͇͌͐͠k̶͎̂̑o̴͔̖͊̌, zomelak.
Bagabi lacha bachabe, Lamac c̷̻̠͋̌á̶̡̱̦͝͝ḫ̵̥͒̀i̷̡͆̀͆ ̴̜̻̬͆ achababe.
K̴̥̳̮̎å̶̧̢̉͒r̵̪̐r̴̢̒̎e̶̟̥͂̋l̷̮̅̉̇l̵̘̈́͘ͅÿ̴̐ͅǫ̸͉̼̎̐̒s̷̡̯̿̾̈́.
Lamac lamac bachalyas. Cabahagy sabalyos.
Baryolos. L̷̞̝̖̽͆̿a̶͖͈͌̊̈́g̸̖̘̅ͅo̷̞͈̍z̸̞͒͘ ̸͖̜̠͝atha cabyolas.
Smnahac atha f̷̡̝̖̈a̵̞̿m̵̫͉̙̌ȯ̷̤̳̌̌l̶̼̻͓̈̓̈a̸̞͝s̵̡̯͙͂͐.
H̵̹̻͗u̷͕̖͗̿̕r̶̩̖̈́̈́̈́r̸̹͇̗̍ǡ̶͇̯ͅh̵̻̥̉̉y̴̡͚̟̅́̕a̷̱͈͑.​

Henderson, NY | Early Winter​

 

[kevintheradioguy]

It was an unbearable feeling: not just the way Jamie felt physically, but also how no one took him seriously for such a long time. The teacher, mister what’s-his-name, was talking something about mathematical probabilities - at least Jamie could've made this conclusion by overhearing words like “dice” and “chance”, but paying attention to catch something further was hard to say the least. For a while now, he felt like he was both underwater and near an erupting volcano, and it was getting worse with every day. As if his temples were squeezed by water pressure, cold liquid oozing into his ears, salt scratching his eyes, needling at his skin to take as much warmth from his body as it could; and at the same time, this immense hat incompatible with icy coldness, making his skin sweat and pop. He was cold, and yet, hot, needing to put as much of the warm clothes as he could, and at the same time – pull as much of it off. Roll in the snow outside, but crawl closer to the heater. By all medical standards, he was absolutely fine, maybe even healthier than he should be with all the time he spends hunched over books with doubtful contents.

It all started innocent enough: a few nights of long dreams about nothing in particular, leaving the young man exhausted. He could've spent up to twelve hours in bed, and wake up as if he had no rest at all. There was a logical explanation, however. After all, Jamie spent enormous amount of time and effort to clean his room from all the wax and pig blood once he was done with his new ritualistic hobby. Even the school coach would've been impressed by how long and hard he worked, just so no one would ask any weird questions about the blood stains forming into an odd symbol on the floor: the last thing he needed is to be locked up into an institution with some real weirdos. How ironic that in the end something like this actually happened.

This ritual – some sort of familiar summoning – brought up a few disturbing dreams after. Nothing specific. These were just your ordinary dreams and nightmares and teenager would see when they closed their eyes for the night. However, these had just one thing in common that made them absolutely terrifying. All the way through, whether it was a dream about falling off a cliff, or the one about seeing a new film, hooking up with someone, losing teeth, or setting school on fire; every time there was a feeling that someone was watching. Closely. One could say it was a nagging feeling, but truth was, it was far, far from just “nagging”. If anything, it was needling its teeth into his dream state flesh, and tearing at it; it felt as if he was surrounded, tight, by tall, invisible figures, looking at him, and over him, hanging behind his shoulders, looking down with their large, wet, unblinking eyes at all times, whatever he did, however far he ran, however loud he screamed to leave him alone. Or maybe… maybe it felt like huge, slimy tentacles pulsing around in a tight circle - too large and frightening to be climbed over, waiting to close in, but teasing in not doing so. Once he closed his eyes, this feeling of being watched - paranoid and intrusive - was there, crawling into his most intimate dreams and most terrifying nightmares. And after a while... after a while he was getting a feeling these things that he dreamt of - ethereal, unseen and ghostly, were making their way into the real world.

His family did become concerned at some point, consulting medical professionals, however, if anything, Jamie was getting healthier with each passing month rather than vice-versa. They had no clue why a person with a normal body temperature and great metabolism would act as if feverish and unable to eat. That was when a psych ward came into place, making the young man spend a few months in an almost vegetative state as pills were forced into his throat. But that, in fact, was the best few months of his life. The visions and the paranoia stepped back, and he had finally managed to catch onto some sleep.

Just a hysteria, the doctor said. He wanted to attract attention, he said. There is nothing wrong with him, he said. Get him a counsellor, he said. Drive him to Disneyland or whatever the kids love these days, he said. Get him into sports so he can take his mind off things, he said. The prick.

As soon as Jamie left, it slowly returned, but now his parents were done with this “faking for attention”. How could they believe some sort of an old fart who hadn’t read any new research ever since his graduation in 1689 or whatever, over their own’s son’s word?

And so, he had to endure or fake. Go to school, which separated into two clans about him: one being “you’ve spent almost half a year in a psych ward, you’re a loon” and “you’ve spent almost half a year in a psych ward, that is so metal”. And maybe that would’ve been flattering if he didn’t feel like a train wreck both physically and mentally.

The bright, colourful, pre-Christmas world around seemed so much gloomier for him now, off the pills, thrown back into the paranoid dream world which oozed into the land of the living, blurring the borders of where nightmares ended and real life began. Always tired and paranoid, looking around to see if there is someone actually staring at him… and in so doing, making people stare. “What a weird kid”, they thought. “Is he all-right?”, they whispered. “Maybe he's lost”, they theorised, but no one dared to approach and ask. Not like they would've gotten a satisfying answer if they tried anyway.

In time, Jamie could learn how to handle this. The pain, the fever becoming the norm. This happened to so many people, in fact! They were getting hurt, or sick, or even old! - and they didn’t even notice. So what if they are a little fatigued, so what if they are going to sleep a bit earlier? Such things happen. And then, after weeks, months, or even years, one day they realise in how much pain they actually are, and how long they didn't notice it. This was probably the case with Jamie now. These symptoms he started to feel again ever since the treatment ended, were growing slowly on him, making him used to it. That is, until today – until right now, in the middle of some sort of maths problem no one cared about, it became absolutely impossible to ignore. All the sounds, and all the voices dulled, as if heard through a thick layer of water, head pulsing, heartbeat echoing in his ears like war drums, and invisible hands squeezing his skull – not exactly in a painful way, but enough to be noticeable at all times. Eyes blurry, and vision dimmed, as if someone was sucking all the colours out of the world around. His skin cold from the draft around the room, and yet, a fire burning inside, making him sweat, forming small drops of tears in his eyes, like the one he got when he was feverish. Muscles feeling as if they were made out of soft fibre, barely able to hold a pencil right. And the most terrifying and irritating thing - besides the fact that these symptoms were not tied to any physical sickness - was that no one cared. No one. They whether didn't notice how he felt, or chose to ignore it. No.one.cared. No peers in the class, none of the teachers, not the school guard, not even Chaz, not even the cafeteria lady! They chose to see him as being absolutely healthy. Normal. Was that how they perceived him at all times? Was that who they thought he was? A snivelling, trembling, absent-minded kid?

And now... now his vision was slowly growing darker in the corner of his eyes, threatening to devour the world in once blissful nothingness. Maybe this was a result of Jamie not having enough sleep these last few weeks, and his brain shutting down on its own. Thank god. Maybe, there would be this nightmare about being watched again, but at least he won't be suffering from being hot and cold, oversensitive and not feeling anything, all at the same time! Like in the vintage films, a dark aura was forming in the corners of his eyes, all grainy, covering his vision with the mix of black smudges and occasional bright spots, like the ones he'd see if he'd press his palms to the closed lids real tight. There was a small movement in that darkness, as if a scared animal was lurking in his peripheral vision. The classroom felt quieter and quieter, as if this layer of unseen water was growing thicker, and it brought some relief. One less sensation to go through. His eyes were hot, almost scorchingly so, and lids closing, as if he was going to fall asleep.

But he did not.

Just as the world almost grew silent, and the voice of the middle-aged chubby teacher with more moustache than actual face on his shoulders, grew into a dull, indistinguishable and barely perceived nonsense, he was suddenly jolted awake from his half-slumbering state. "Hey, Ja-̶͙̈́a̸͍͊-a-mie-e-e!" a voice so sweet and gentle, it almost dripped scorching-hot honey right over his left ear. Not dulled, not mumbling like the rest of the sounds – on the contrary: clear and coherent, belonging to nothing he had ever heard before, scratching his eardrums like nails over chalkboard. Not a moment later – a new sensation! – a gentle touch of corpse-like, ice-cold fingers on the back of his neck, light and barely noticeable, but still there; as if someone ran their fingers lightly over his skin, tips barely touching his body, almost like a spider crawling. Problem was, of course, he was sitting in the last row. There was no one behind him but the wall, and an old ad from a year before about the school inviting anyone of sufficient skill join the drama class.

 

[JayMessi]

Jamie wasn’t sure what had enticed him to do it. Having a patron sounded like a nice idea, and maybe he just had to prove to Chaz he wasn’t afraid to do it. But he wasn’t even sure of that fact. It felt so long ago, that whatever he was trying to prove by partaking in a tango with the devil, or at least he thought it must be the devil, wasn’t worth the consequence. He had been haunted by the night ever sense, losing what grip he once held on both body and mind. He remembered the metallic tang of the pigs blood growing overwhelming during his set up for the ritual, it was nauseating at the time and he had thought at that time that maybe he should stop. How he wished he did, because nothing has been the same since. There was no escaping it, during the days he was in agony. Unable to maintain focus, losing interest in hobbies and all essence of who he was to the chill, the burn, the itch, and ache. The nights were plagued with nightmares accompanied by a thing--a watcher--soaking in the actions of his subconscious with unmoving eyes.

When seeking out help or an escape from the never resting pain he got the same response from nearly every professional out there. The exact same song sung through different lips, it was all in his head. He pleaded with them to believe him, that it was real. He tried to convince his family, his friends that he didn’t need a psychiatrist, he needed an exorcist. But eventually he gave in, and thought maybe he was going through a bout of psychosis. Maybe the insinuating incident had nothing to do with the nightmares, the fatigue, the discomfort, and pain. There was some hope thinking that the right concoction of pills accompanied with the verbal expelling of all his greatest insecurities and secrets might cure him.

It worked, for a bit. But once off the medication it only returned. He learned to live in chronic distress in fear of being locked away forever. Plus, it wasn’t so bad. He was getting used to it. But the commentary about his experience was grating. It only reminded him how isolated he was. But it was bearable. It would all be okay. Even if the math teacher’s lecture was almost incomprehensible behind the usual distraction.

No, not usual. He felt worse than he had in a while. A sense of dread hung over him, the sensation so thick he found it hard to breathe. His ribcage was compressing around a swelling heart. The fatigue was back, the sensation around him overwhelming, before it all seemed to fade.

A warm tingle in his ear seemed to seep down his throat at the sound of a voice calling to him by name. He was startled--no not startled shaken to his core. The unprecedented tone then accompanied by the icy chill of a touch of an entity unknown. Because upon inspection there was nothing behind him.

Already he had enough. He didn’t know if anyone saw how he shuddered, he didn’t care if there were anyway. He made his way to his feet, finger tips gracing the fine finished wood of his desk as if to make sure he was still real.

“I am…uh…bathroom…” He muttered under his breath as he weaved his way through the other bodies occupying the room. He knew they must’ve been looking now. He hurried out of the room and into the hallway, a hand taking a grip of his hair fingers snapping into delicate tangles.

“It’s not real…” He said, taking a few staggered steps forward with no real direction, shaking his head as if trying to cast away whatever called to him. “Come on, get a grip.”

 

[kevintheradioguy]

Maybe it really wasn’t real: another ethereal, sweet lie of his brain. Perhaps, the doctors weren’t wrong, and it was all in his head after all. But truth was that for a moment there, it made him feel somewhat better. A sudden coherent voice on top of this underwater mumbling; a real sensation, even if cold and unnerving. And his reaction seemed to bring up some sort of a glee from something around. It wasn’t clear how Jamie knew it, but fact was that for some reason he knew, he felt that something was happy. Not in a malevolent gloat, but actually, genuinely happy.

Almost like a hyperactive kitten feeling glee, something whisked around – invisible, but in a certain wait palpable. As if something ran from one shadow beneath the humming fluorescent lamp into another one, almost jumping between them, but staying close. It felt like it grew around him, reaching with its tendrils beneath his ears and into his skull. The lights flickered, and for a moment, he almost appeared in one of his nightmares of long, darky, empty, and absolutely unending school corridors. It was dead silent for a moment, before a humming rustle started devouring him, as if someone was tuning into an old radio. Something was needling under his skull, though not in a painful manner: it felt like if someone was gently squeezing his brain from the inside. Something was behind him, unimaginably big, and at the same time so tiny, it was unseen.

“.̵́ͅ.̷͖̔.̸̓ͅ ̶̥̊.̴͝ͅ.̷̩̉.̸̟̾” The illegible voice, devoured by said rustling tried to tell him something once more, but drowned in this static-like noise – not exactly falling into his ears, but more like felt from the inside of his head. “W.̵́ͅ.̷͖̔.̸̓ͅ ̶̥̊ḣ̶̻͑̇̚y ̸̗̔а̵̖͑г̷̥͂е̶̝͒ ̶̺̈́у̴̪̅о̸̙́и̴̖͑ ig̵̫̍n.̵́ͅ.̷͖̔.̸̓ͅ ̶̥̊ó̸̢̧̨̠̺̝͍r.̵́ͅ.̷͖̔.̸̓ͅ ̶̥̊i̵̬͂n̶̊g м̵̮͝е̸͉̎ Ja̴̧̐.̵́ͅ.̷͖̔.̸̓ͅ ̶̥̊mie?”

“Д̵̥͌е̴̮͂т̵̜̓ ̴͇̎а̴̤͒ ̷̺̚д̵̗͂р̷̳̈́ь̸͉͠р̷̦̑…” Sounded in his ears in a high-pitched rustle.

“Д̵̥͌eт̵̜̓ ̴͇̎а̴̤͒ ̷̺̚д̵̗͂р̷̳̈́ь̸͉͠р̷̦̑!” Same incoherent syllables sounded again in the corridor, blinking between almost complete darkness and light.

“Д̵̥͌eт̵̜̓ ̴͇̎a ̷̺̚д̵̗͂р̷̳̈́ь̸͉͠р̷̦̑” it repeated, low and gurgling.

“Д̵̥͌eт̵̜̓ ̴͇̎a ̷̺̚д̵̗͂р̷̳̈́ь̸͉͠p” it repeated.

“Д̵̥͌eт̵̜̓ ̴͇̎a ̷̺̚д̵̗͂rь̸͉͠p” it echoed in his head, nauseating.

“Д̵̥͌et ̴͇̎a ̷̺̚д̵̗͂rь̸͉͠p.” it parroted over, and over again.

“Д̵̥͌et ̴a ̷̺̚д̵̗͂rì̴̙̃p.”

“Get ̴a ̷̺̚д̵̗͂rì̴̙̃p.”

“G̶̢͚̼̊̿̿͘ē̶̜̰͕t ̴a ̷̺̚д̵̗͂rì̴̙̃p.”

“G̶̢͚̼̊̿̿͘ē̶̜̰͕t̶͈̲͑̈́̏ͅ ̶̩̞̭́̓a̴͕͈͆ ̴͕̬̤̲͗̀͘g̶̡̺͗r̸̠͇̓͑ì̴̙̃p̴͓̎.”

“Get a grip!” Finally, it became coherent enough. Soft, cold, but at the same time filled with passion, it suddenly cleared away the cobwebs. He was in the corridor, the lamps were buzzing, and a soft cough to his left from a partially-opened door.

A pair of sky-blue eyes of one of the teachers shined, as she looked at him, concerned, probably seeing him stumbling aimlessly in the hallway.

“Young man, do you need to be escorted to the nurse?” She asked, narrowing her black brows, making a few wrinkles appear on her tanned skin. “Should I call your parents?”

His vision was clear, hearing was back to normal, even if the head pulsed as if after a prolonged exposure to heat. Something still held the back of his head – the back of his brain even – someone’s fingers pushing themselves into it. It was a moment of clarity, but something told him it wouldn’t last.

 

[JayMessi]

He wished it would stop. Somehow, the eccentric movements paired with the unseen glee of whatever was trying to make its presence known had unnerved Jamie more. It had visited Jamie's nightmares, seemed to always be a presence known with each flutter of the eye. But now this? Whatever it was that had haunted him was becoming all too tangible. He needed to get away from it, but where could he run? If real, this was something much grander than the physical plane that he resided in. Or, if it was truly in his head, then how could he possibly escape himself?

He found himself frozen with an invasive grasp. The thing had taken hold of him, was all consuming-growing around him and the most his body could muster back in a response was the gentle tremble of his hand. He sucked in his breath, but that as far as he went as he found himself incapable of completing the breath. As much as he wanted to to retreat with in himself. Shudder his eyes shut and retreat from whatever it was that haunted him, he couldn't. As the scene changed his bright eyes rounded, staring at the never ending void of darkness looking for an end as the incomprehensible noise behind the static overwhelmed his senses.

He was finally gifted the ability to gasp out his breath, working to shake his head in denial of---whatever it was attempting to communicate with him. Every fiber of his being pleading for it to go away. He didn't want this. He wanted to be freed from this nightmare. A sense of electricity was shot down his spine as the muffled words became intelligible and all too loud. The words pounding in his head.

As abruptly as the scenery changed it once again shifted. back to his present. The transition coming to fast, and he found himself startled at the pair of blue eyes that met his. He let out a yelp as his heart rate picked up, stumbling back before getting a grip.

"I...I am okay. I just have a fever. My mom is outside, waiting for me." He said, hurrying forward. Taking a few long steps at first before finding himself racing down the hall. He didn't care that he had just abandoned his backpack in his math class. He had to get out of here. He needed fresh air. He needed a plan. Now that this thing was reaching out to him, would it be possible to figure out what it wanted? How he could get rid of it? Maybe Chaz had some answers, he allegedly knew more about this stuff anyway. Maybe there was some type of spell to reverse the effects.

As he exited the building, he whacked the palm of his hand on the back of his skull as if trying to shake out his intruder. The ever present pressure at the back of his head sent a shudder down his spine. He knew, just as always, this thing was watching and not even his thoughts could be kept to himself.

 

[kevintheradioguy]

Jamie wished for it to stop, and it did. Not completely, not forever, but it indeed did stop. Being outside right now, his head was clearer, lungs filling with cold winter air, only slight headache, and this disgusting pulsing of someone fresh out of fever. The thing, whatever it was, still latched on, however. A slap on the back of the head left a burning sensation of a punch, and distracted from the feeling of something holding him with a slight pain. Was this how it went with cutters? They just needed a distraction from something, and did stupid things to themselves to later regret? Was this his road: self-harm in the name of self-preservation? How ironic.

In this small town few cars drove the streets. Henderson was a tiny place, almost a retirement town: quiet, nice, surrounded by nature on all sides: wooded hills and tiny bays of grand lakes. Pretty as a picture. Quiet echoes of humming cars sounded like a lullaby to the brain that finally got some rest. Most of the rumbling was devoured by trees around: thick bald canopies, pine needles, black trunks; but what managed to pass through was almost like a melody. Lulling, nice, the one that promised good dreams, or better yet: no dreams at all. As if a sleepy giant – this town – was going “M-m-m, m-m-m…” all the time, in different notes. It lulled and calmed down. “M-m-m, m-m-m…” some large truck miles away coughed on the road, and the sound spread between the hills, reaching far corners of the quiet little town. “M-m-m, m-m-m…” a few motorcycles roared far on the highway, their deafening sounds turning into cat-like murmur as they spread around. “M̸ -m-m, m-m̵-̴m…” a car started somewhere nearby: probably a mother taking her children home from the kindergarten. “M̸-̵m̵-̴m̶…” the rustling proceeded. “…M̶̹̓-̷͔̖̟̀͜m̷͔͕̓-̵̘̘̈́͂̒m̵-̴…” Wait. “…M̸̪̯̭̖͕̳̏-̶̟̘͎̅̂̑̆̍̀͝͝m̵̨̰̝̰͇̟͌̍̎͜ͅ-̵̛̛̭͖̞̫̯̖̦̀́̏̈́̄̿ͅm̶̛̪͖̬̱̅͌̽̐̈́̒͜͠…” Those weren’t cars.

Before realisation settled in full, a deafening ring of a school bell sounded right above his head, like some sort of a siren. The humming stopped, as if spooked away by a sudden disgusting high-pitched crunch of whatever was making the sound. Was he out here for this long? Jamie found himself standing at the school doors, fingers cold and unmoving, his throat filled with frosty air so much, it felt like covered in rime from the inside. He wasn’t feeling cold any more – it was far beyond that point – the sensation of freezing already changed into gnawing pain of frostbites.

People poured out of the doors, wrapped in warm coats, fluffy hats, and long scarves, as if only to emphasise the fact Jamie was standing here in what could be considered almost summer attire. Few people threw confused looks at his face, a chipping group of nerdy girls who made “girl games” their entire personality gave him an eye – not a surprising thing, seeing how they were trash talking him ever since he returned from the clinic. And then, in the whirlwind of browns and mustardy-yellows – what this place considered to be fashionable at the moment -a larger black-and-white figure slowly emerged. Jamie’s friend seemed to be confused, carrying both his own and Jamie’s bag, looking around slowly, and trying to spot the missing student. He probably wouldn’t be surprised if his friend ran home – this wasn’t the first time since the incident he’ll have to bring something of Jamie’s back to his place.

 

[JayMessi]

The song the town sang was like a trance. The gentle melody of what Jamie once believed to be cars offered a soothing sense of comfort as the time passed. He thought for a moment that he needed to go back inside, he had left his bag and his winter coat. The long sleeve sweater he had worn that was more suitable for the building's heating system wouldn't keep him long. Soon the furious nip of winters chill will become too much. But this was the first time he felt a sense of solace in a while. He was able to lose himself in reality, finally able to escape the mind and whatever lingered in its depths. The sound of the town he was raised in called him home. He lost track of time, what had it been? Five minutes? Ten? The more the tune repeated, slightly different each time, the more unnerving it felt. As if the sound waves cast were creeping through his sense of being.

Wait those weren't...

The ringing of the school bell caused him to jolt, he watched as his breath took form in front of him before dispersing. At this point Jack Frost's nip had turned his fingers numb. He was shaking beyond his control, although the chill no longer bothered him. How long had he been standing here? He had made a plan at some point to get his coat but now...

There were too many people around. Swarms of all too familiar faces that he couldn't quite recognize. The sound of the bell still buzzing in his ears, as he stood put a moment longer. He was overwhelmed by it all. What was he thinking about before the lull had taken him hostage? Chaz. No. He needed to get somewhere warm. Treat the cold first and then Chaz. Find his way back in the school. Why was he trying to preserve himself at this point? Was this the rest of his life, and if it was he didn't want this thing that haunted him to take shape. It either wasn't real and he was getting crazier, and far too real and getting stronger.

On his way back to the building it seemed as if Chaz had ran into him first armed with his coat and his backpack.

"Shit." He muttered through chattering teeth. Still shaken by this whole or deal, or perhaps his body temperature had dropped too much. It didn't matter. He took a grip of his winter coat, quickly pulling it over his shoulders. His fingers stiff, a buzz pricking his finger tips as he bent them. He buried them in the pockets of his coat letting out a hiss of pain.

"I need to talk to you, but, can we go inside?" He said, but it was much more of a demand than a legit question. As he had already hurried off, leaving the other armed with his backpack as he rushed to get out of the cold. He caught hold of the door that was being opened as another student departed. He had learned his entire sense of self from Chaz. Well back when he had a sense of self. He took his style, his wicked sense of humor, his beliefs all form where Chaz had guided him. Truthfully, he had admired his friend and at one point would do anything to earn his favor. Now there was something more daunting preoccupying his time. He spun around, waiting however long needed for the other to catch up. Jaw still tight, posture still tense, truthfully he must've looked mad but what else was new?

"I need your help. Please."

 

[kevintheradioguy]

“I thought you’d…” the young man began as Jamie cut him off by snatching the coat out of his hands. Chaz frowned a little, putting on his best ‘okay, be this way’ face. This wouldn’t last long, though, being mostly for the show.

Going against the avalanche of students was a hard task, of course, so many students getting taller and bulkier as time went on, pushing Jamie’s wiry frame around like the one of the rag doll. This was not, however, a problem for Chaz, who was significantly taller and heavier. Not exactly on a jock side of things, neither like one of those ‘foodie’ people, he still was one of the larger people in the classroom, and maybe that is how with all his eccentric look he managed to avoid being made fun of or bullied.

This weird fame of his seemed to extend to the teachers as well: Jamie was in the hospital at the time it happened, but heard enough rumours to know that at some point his parents were called, because Chaz came to school in what was described as Jean Simmons makeup. He was reprimanded, sent back hoe, and was slowly reducing the amount of paint on his face, until he found a perfect balance of being looked at condescendingly by the teachers without getting into trouble, the current white-face-smoky-eyes one. Some tried to tease this made him gay, however, this teasing was ceasing pretty fast: Chaz just shrugged it off, not feeding the trolls. After all, his sexuality was never out in public, for all Jamie knew. Chaz might as well have not had sone.

While students were pushing Jamie around, his friend was pushing around the students. He did walk sideways, as if trying to squeeze between them, but was pushing through with such intensity that he left a cacophony of offended murmurs and yelps of resentment behind him. This wasn’t a usual behaviour for him – not from what Jamie knew – but a look back unravelled concern in his eyes. Ever since Jamie returned, Chaz behaved somewhat… slower. Easier. Gentler. Despite his initial provocative behaviour, he seemed to genuinely care for Jamie, which came to light only now, as the teen was so obviously struggling.

Something was still squeezing his brain, like some sort of parasite latching on. It almost felt like some sort of an animal, perched on his shoulders. Watching. Waiting. Learning. At least, it was quiet now – no words, no rattle, no humming – however creepily soothing the latter was. It wasn’t obvious what it was watching exactly, however. Was it Jamie? Or was it Chaz?

“Wassup?” Was the first thing his friend asked as they stopped in the hallway. His slight squint hinted at him wanted to needle at a freezing teen – maybe noting his lack of proper clothes for the walk, or the fact he probably looked like shit right now, but something made him stop not even half-word, but half-a-sound in. He cocked his head, looking Jamie up and down, and rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.

“A’ight, this… doesn’t really sound like you.” He noted. Maybe there was just too much desperation in Jamie’s voice. It confused the other teen, made him feel awkward, like on a first date: something is obviously expected of him, he just didn’t quite realise what. So he tried to put it in the most polite, yet humorous manner. The thing squeezed tighter. It was obviously listening in. “So-o-o… wassup?”

 

[JayMessi]

Trying to go against the crowd was like being sucked into a riptide. It had always been a struggle for him, he never was large enough or noticeable enough to not be claimed a victim to mob mentality. Actually, like a suiting metaphor for his life in whole. It seemed as if every time he was about to reach the surface he was pulled another direction. The exhaustion making it difficult for him to keep himself a float, he wondered how much longer until his body gave in and he let himself sink.

In Jamie's perspective, Chaz seemed to navigate things with much more ease. And he didn't mean just when it came to crowds. Chaz always had this aire of certainty about him. He had always been confident in his cryptic beliefs, even when others dared to mock him. His sense of style had always been so exaggerated as if he wasn't afraid of other people's gazes. He had even heard the other's recount of the whole make-up fiasco and how his original look was so much more out there. It is why Jamie learned to admire him so. It was why Jamie trusted him with this matter. He hadn't been quite forward with him about the cause of his episodes. He had admitted it to some professionals, but with his peers things were different. He already underwent so much scrutiny, he doubted claiming something both evil and unseen clung to his mind's eyes wouldn't do much for his popularity.

Once his friend had halted in front of him, Jamie let out an exhale, lips parted as if ready to speak. But, there was something still weighing on him. Eyes that felt larger than life unblinking as it took in the scene. There was no sense of privacy. There was no scheming without his intruder’s knowledge. For a moment, he wondered if he should say anything at all. He would hate to pull Chaz into the hellscape he currently considered his life.

He drew a hand up, pressing a hand to the shoulder he felt that the thing seemed to latch on. Leaning to the side as if it was weighing him down. He took a tight grip on his shoulder, fingers forming around the polyester of his winter coat. As if checking if the thing was tangible. It sure would be a lot easier to explain this all to Chaz if it was.

“Uh…” He breathed out, looking up at his larger friend. “I…I think I made a mistake. A while back.”

He began without much context, a hand working his way through his hair snagging on the occasional tangle. It was hard to feel at ease. He didn’t know if the thing giving itself a voice did more to convince him this was real, or convince him he was truly losing his grip of reality.

“I did a ritual.” He said in a whisper. His irises shrunk as he flickered his gaze side to side as if anyone passing by would truly be invest enough to listen in on their conversation. “Before I started…before all that stuff started happening. You know what I mean?”

He bit his lip, turning his head again as if in search of something that wasn’t there. He moved in a little closer.

“And the crazy thing---and I know it sounds crazy. But I think it actually worked. I think I summoned something I shouldn’t have and I haven’t been the same since.” He said, speaking faster now.

He now reached forward, taking hold of the other’s jacket. “And I don’t know what to do. I need your help.”

 

[kevintheradioguy]

Finding a discreet corner was no problem. Indeed, with Christmas being visible, most of the students were all too keen to escape the confinement of tall concrete walls and into the cosiness of their households. Watch the snow fall, chat with friends, play online games together, or try to find presents hidden away in their parents’ closets – all depending on how old they were. Little to none took notice of two weird kids stranded in school, looking all gloomy.

Chaz looked at Jamie with fading concern in his eyes. Teens rarely ever admitted to making mistakes, and when they did, this usually meant something big. Stealing a car, maybe, robbing a store or hurting something – none of these things sounded like Jamie, of course, but who knows what the circumstance were?

However, as his friend mentioned a ritual, a visible weight fell of his shoulders. Just a ritual, he thought. How bad could it be?

“M̸i̵s̵tak̵e…” The voice echoed – not loud, not coherent. Barely audible. As if it was coming from far, far away. However, with its sounds another radio-like rustling was heard, approaching slowly; and a sensation of another fir of nausea and migraine coming his way.

And the worst thing was, there was doubt in Chaz’s eyes. Did he even believe things he was hearing? The politically correct answer was, that he believed Jamie believed in it. Which didn’t make thing better.

“So-uh…” He scratched his chin, a few flakes of white powder falling on top of black nail polish. “You… you summoned something? Like a… a ghost or something? An animal?” It was clear he was trying to make sense of it all. Maybe, if this was an animal, this was just a coincidence. If it was a ghost, maybe it was all his imagination.

The noise grew, and approached, and it needled into Jamie’s skull again. Almost as if his own pain and discomfort allowed for the thing to speak louder – and it did.

“I̶sn̷'̴t̶ ̸̝̄t̴͕͆̎his̸̩͗ ̸̖͎́̈́w̸̪͒͜ḣ̶̖̊ͅat y̴o̵u̷ ̴ w̵̧̝͎̜͍̅̀͠a̶̫̞̹͐̋̕ṅ̷̛̗͈̥̗͉̫̚t̵̢̠̿́ę̵̳̱͚̦̍̊̅̓͠ͅd̶͕͕̮͈͑?̶̨̙̜̄̓̓͗̒̕” A barely coherent distorted voice cut into his eardrums like a blade. Jamie thought that something popped inside, something oozed from his ear, hot like blood. The hallway swirled in front of him, colours mixing in a dark grey and black mess.

Then a second had passed.

Then everything went back to normal.

Chaz was looking thoughtfully up into the ceiling, thinking, as if nothing had happened just now.

“Are you sure you’re not getting... just… you know…” He pursed his lips, making incoherent gestures, and shaking his head slowly to signify how much he doubted about whether or not he should speak up. “This sort of hangover… drawback thing?” He immediately lifted his hands up in defence. “Like, I don’t know what exactly happened, but I think hospitals stuff you with all kinds of shit out there. Paranoia and headache must be the least of this-um… drawback-kind-of symptoms.”

He darted a look at Jamie, confused. Of course, people did say they believed in ghosts and paranormal, but in the end of the day, did they really? Or were they just looking for a way to make their lives more exciting? Make up a fantasy to live in? If a real believer would one day meet someone who’d claim to be God, would they trust this person? If a paranormal enthusiast would keep hearing voices in their new home, would they think ghost, or try to find a reasonable explanation, like old pipes or noisy neighbours?

“What…” Chaz sighed, shoulders dropping. He didn’t want to come off as insensitive, and seemed to have given up fast – if only to support his friend. “…what kind of thing did you summon? What does it look like?”

There was a light chuckle over Jamie’s shoulder. Or did he imagine that? He felt the thing, this creature, this monster around, by his side, but at the same time sort of… far away? Not physically, but maybe mentally? As if it was drifting to sleep, and wasn’t entirely listening in. Did it get tired, or did something else happen? Maybe it was losing interest in the conversation, or maybe it got offended at being called a mistake?

 

[JayMessi]

Jamie held his breath, as if lack of oxygen would restrict the being from communicating with him any longer. He had gotten so accustomed to the nausea and the migraines that he was able to swallow it back, although his saliva proved to be as heavy as lead as it rolled down his throat. He could see his friend’s disbelief, his own desperation and disappointment reflected in the silhouette of the other’s gaze. Perhaps at another time Jamie wouldn’t have been able to believe it either. But he had been living it for so long now…and it was communicating with him now.

“It was supposed to be a familiar.” Jamie said, shifting in his stance as the anxiety within him made it difficult to remain still. Fingers flexing as if trying to keep his grip of reality in hand. “B-But I don’t really know what this is. It doesn’t really matter. It’s in my head and it is trying to talk to me.”

He said, fingers now rustling through his hair once more. His eyes flickered around the hallway once more, his teeth absent mindedly going to his lips and tugging at the loose skin.


The next interruption took him off guard. He released his eyelids letting them snap into place, his lips parting as he let out a sharp inhale in pain. He covered his ears, bending over as he took a staggered step as if trying to escape the pain. It was all encompassing, as he didn’t care how it looked towards his concerned friend. The fluorescent dim of the overhead light, and the monotonous white, beige, and blues of the hall swirl into black and gray as once again he was transported somewhere that wasn’t here.

Once he was back into his reality, he could begin processing the beings message. Wasn’t this what he wanted? Despite his body’s rejection of whatever it was--there was no real proof that this otherworldly thing was actually malicious. He shook his head. What was he talking about, this thing was a being drawn straight from nightmares?

But the thing was trying to communicate with him, so wouldn’t it be possible to communicate back? The thing obviously knew what he was saying. Could he ask it questions? It was worth a shot. Maybe if he knew the thing’s intentions then he could figure out how to cure this? He snapped back into focus, understanding Chaz’s question at a bit of a lag.

“No…it isn’t…” He let out a bit of a huff. “You aren’t listening. Why would the withdraw symptoms cause the whole thing to be worse---for me to start hearing things and the world to turn into---”

He seemed to relax as the other humored him by asking for elaboration.

It’s just like…it’s really big? Right. Bigger than anything I’ve seen. But it can also be small. Like the size of a toad?”

“I know…I know I know. This all sounds insane. Especially since I don’t know what it looks like--ah--oh no I know. It has these unblinking, unmoving eyes. Kind of like this?” He said, using his index fingers to pry his eyelids open. “And they are big. Maybe it’s only eyes?”

His eyes drifted towards his side as if he could catch sight of the thing. But of course, it wasn’t possible. To the side of him was nothing but hallway, once cluttered with bodies now it seemed scarce as people were ready to end the day. Jamie’s teeth chattered, it still wasn’t tangible and he still couldn’t quite picture it.

“Look, can we just like…go to your place and look through your books? Okay? I have an idea…maybe I should try asking it what it wants. But maybe there is some explanation somewhere on what it is.’

 

[kevintheradioguy]

It was hard to understand if Chaz actually believed what Jamie was saying, and could one blame him? Summon a thing from beyond our world sounded fun paper, but every thinking human being would be skeptical to say the least about the reality of such a thing. Maybe some religious idiot would buy it immediately, but then, would Jamie actually talk to such a person?

At the very least, Chaz didn’t immediately scream ‘psychopath’ like so many people, and entertained the possibility. He was nodding thoughtfully, but did he really think what to do now with some sort of a magical being tied to his friend, or what might’ve been happening in this factual, concrete reality they lived in? A nervous breakdown instead of witchcraft, maybe? Some sort of substances?

“Su-u-ure, let’s go-o-o…” He sang thoughtfully, nodding to the double doors of the school as he simultaneously shoved Jamie’s backpack into his arms, and basically dragging him out on the cold again. His brows furrowed, and he looked around, glare gliding across white snow, contrasting with cleaned-up roads of almost black.

“You know.” He said. “I used to have dreams about being inside something dark, that is simultaneously very big and very small.” The young man whether tried to distract Jamie, or genuinely thought these were connected. Or just dragged on time as he thought about what happened, bravely ignoring a few people, screaming ‘goth’ into his back in sch a tone as if it was an insult. “Like I’m in something very warm, pulsing, and tight, and it’ very scary. My mom was saying ‘oh, these are memories from when you were in the womb’.” He mocked the woman’s high-pitched voice. It wasn’t like they didn’t get along, bot for Chaz’s taste she was way too spiritual. Not exactly religious, but spiritual. This… didn’t paint a good picture for Jamie, now when he thought about it.

Someone yelling ‘gay’ at his back made the larger teen aware he was still holding Jamie under the elbow, and made him let go instead of dragging his friend behind him, as if he was a doll. As well as snapped him a little back into reality.

“So, a familiar, then.” He hemmed. “Isn’t it supposed to be, like, an animal? A cat, or a crow… or, yeah, a toad!” He looked back at Jamie, almost in some sort of triumph. The coincidence of calling it a toad before made sense in his head.

“But, like, a familiar was supposed to be… you know… a helping spirit that should assist you in brewing potions and that kind of shit. Not, like, stare at you at all times, you know?” He was considering medicine drawbacks, but decided to have some tact, seeing how such things upset Jamie a lot. Still, from the look on his face, he wasn’t entirely opposed to an idea that medical interference might’ve had effect on Jamie. “What did you do to summon it, though? I mean, if you’re, erm…” He paused, doubt clear in his eyes as he spoke. “Well, like… like… possessed or something…” He whispered the last words, as if this was a secret so dark, not even winter birds should hear it. “…which it kinda sounds like, by the way… then it’s bad new. Like, the priests can exorcise demons, but they have this whole thing about a person being religious, going to church, and then jumping through some legal hoops or something.” He himself wasn’t sure how it all worked, except for, maybe, that it worked poorly. “And, and! If you are possessed, and you managed to summon some sort of bullshit demon… then I don’t know if you should talk to it. Sounds like a bad idea, my dude.” The more he spoke, the more he seemed to believe in what was going on. Either that, or he just found some entertainment in the situation.

 

[JayMessi]

Jamie was no match for the larger man. Taking a stuttered step back as the backpack was shoved into his chest, as Chaz had accidentally pushed it against him with too much force. His stumble back was immediately followed by a jerk forward, as he followed his best-and only- friend out the doors again. The tip of his nose was still numb, his fingertips only beginning to regain feeling his muscles becoming sore with their new found ability. Still, as much as he would’ve complained about the pain of the weather’s nip a few months ago, the sensation didn’t hit him like it used to. He had grown used to suffering some form of physical agony and he thought maybe that had allowed his senses to dull. It didn’t matter, this time he was armed with his coat and gloves and he was sure the pain would subside soon enough.

He looked up at his friend as he lingered after him. He felt a welt in his throat and compression against his chest. Something akin to jealousy. But he wasn’t jealous of Chaz, now was he? Sure, Jamie hadn’t had more than a quarter of the energy that Chaz displayed in over a year now. And even when confronted with Jamie spilling his heart out about something absolutely unreasonable, his friend still navigated throughout the school and courtyard with a sing-song tone and a bit of chipper about him. He knew part of it must’ve been an act. An understanding and demeanor that was full of life to attempt to combat Jamie’s own…rather bleak seeming exterior, but part of him wished the roles were swapped.

“Oh yeah?” Jamie breathed out in a melodic sigh. Clearly more interested in his own relation with this thing than some dream his friend had years ago. He wished he was back at the stage where what he was experiencing was nothing more than the occasional nightmare. “I think my thing is sorta different…”

He commented, visibility cringing in the Goliath's arm at the word ‘pulsating’. He was sort of compressed in the other’s arm, the hold the other had on him a little too tight to his wiry physique. He didn’t complain, though, as he was not about to ostracize the one person willing to help. He did let out a breath as the other finally released his hold, still forced to stumble after the other’s hurried footsteps but at least there was more distance between them now.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought too whenever I did the ceremony. I actually thought it would be cool to get something like a toad, so that’s what I was imagining. It would be pocket sized so I’d be able to take it with me to class, and I felt it was more original than like a cat or something.” He explained. “But of course I didn’t think it would actually work. Or…I kind of did, I guess, since I went through a lot to perform the ritual. I must’ve done something wrong…”

He pinched his nose in response to the other’s question, forehead creasing in either irritation or in an attempt to remember what he had actually done all that time ago..

“I don’t really remember a lot of it. There was blood involved, but I didn’t like..kill anyone. And a lot of feathers. And I had to read some words in this different language that I didn’t even know whether or not I was pronouncing right. But I looked the pronunciation up online to prevent something like this from happening. I got the ritual from one of your books. The leather bound one I borrowed for like a year? I’m sure I’ll recognize it if I see it.”

He flattened his lips at the other’s commentary about possession. Of course the possibility had come to his mind once or twice but having someone mention it aloud to him hit a bit differently. He shook his head, in order to dismiss his fear. Whatever it was he had to get to the bottom of it.

“I know…” He said, a bit harsher than intended. He took a breath and worked to fix his tone. “I know. And talking to it is probably a bad idea. But…it obviously can hear--or see everything that I’m doing. Just a bit earlier it repeated what I was saying and was like ‘wasn’t this what you wanted’ or something.” Jamie said, the tips of his gloves sinking into his palms and he tightened his fist. “Just back there. In the school. Maybe if I call out to it and be like ‘leave me alone’ it’ll leave more alone? Or I’ll at least get an idea of what exactly it is or wants before…I guess…trying to expel it?”

 

[kevintheradioguy]

Unsurprisingly, Chaz took this much easier than Jamie. Come to think of it, there was a large part of skepticism in his voice, and rightfully so. Maybe that was why he was so keen on dragging Jamie along with him, and talking about it. Still, he at least was able to entertain the idea. Whatever his motives were, he at least didn’t immediately scream “it’s just your imagination”, even if he might’ve thought that way. Would’ve Jamie be the same way if the tables were turned? Would’ve he taken Chaz seriously, if he claimed to have summoned a demon, a spirit, or just some sort of an entity into this world? Would he believe immediately, stay skeptical, or just try to support him, even if this was his friend imaginary friend? It seemed like Chaz was somewhere between the former and the latter.

He shrugged off the off-hand commend about his own experience. Chaz probably just wanted to distract Jamie, or at least set his experience in reality. A ‘such feelings happen, here is a small anecdote about it’ sort of thing. It didn’t work, but then it was also a rather weak attempt. Jamie has been through a small personal hell, and a random experience probably wouldn’t make his day brighter. It was, however, worth a try.

“If you wanted a toad, you could’ve…” Chaz started. Could’ve just bought it, he wanted to say, but bit his tongue quick. This wasn’t about the toad, he realised, it was about this thing working, about magic being real. Sure, correlation didn’t mean causation, and just because a toad crawled out of the bushes at the same time as Jamie read the spell, wouldn’t mean it was magical, but it would’ve been at least something to keep believing in something more than this life, and this reality. Deep inside, every ‘sorcerer’ and ‘medium’ knew this wasn’t real, but oh so many wanted to keep believing, making their worlds a little less grey, a little less dull. He wasn’t sure if Jamie was one of them, but Chaz… Chaz probably was.

“So, you killed a chicken or something?” Chaz asked, hearing of the feathers at the same time as Jamie’s ear pierced with a sudden high-pitched hum, and distorted, old-radio-like voice:

“і̸̟̟̜͑̾̚и̴̩̙͒̇̕т̶̜̿̚͝е̶̛͚͔͌̚и̸̫͎͗т̶̺͠ ̵̳̍̇м̵̰͚̽а̴̩̯̅т̵̫̽т̶̮͙̗̓е̶̯̘̯̾́г̷̧̖͕̆͛̀ӟ̷̧̙͙́̓”

It wasn’t clear what it said, but it clearly commented on his experience. Not jesting or needling, but matter-of-factly. It would’ve been easier if these words were coherent.

All of a sudden, his friend stopped, almost letting Jamie bump into him. Not that he’d feel it anyway: Jamie was ridiculously skinny compared to him, and Chaz wasn’t even on an obese side. They stopped in front of his house – only one window lit up in the kitchen – probably his mother fussing about dinner. Chaz often expressed his disdain towards his own mother and her traditional views. Whenever I do something wrong, he often told, she complains about wanting to have a career, travel the world, which she gave up because she had me. As if it is my fault she decided to get pregnant! The older Chaz got, the more irritation he expressed. He hated the fact she was so keen on this image of a perfect American family, where the woman of the house would stay home and tend to it, and the man would go to his nine-to-seven. He’d much rather prefer, he said, for her to have a career, travel, have fun, and leave the house work to someone else. Come to think of it, the young man had some wholesome and quite feminist worldview. Problem was, he expressed them in a degrading manner.

“Lis’n, here’s what I’m thinking.” He said, looking thoughtfully at the window of his own room. “This thing is latched onto ya, yeah? And you can hear and see it and whatever, but no one else can. It’s like… like in your head or something.” He immediately lift his hands up, stopping any sort of confrontation. “Now, I’m not saying you, like, imagined it or something, but it clearly lives there, cuz I can’t see or hear shit. Or on some spiritual sort of level or something, I don’t know. But I remember this kind of old forum I read, like, maybe five years ago? It was some native bullshit about spiritual guides and totems, and how to communicate with them, and meditate and shit to see your ‘spirit animal’ or something. I tried it.” He snorted. “Apparently, my spirit animal is a gator, or a croc, I have no clue how to tell them apart. But I’m thinking, if it connects you to something living in your headspace, maybe it can do the same for your familiar thing?” He finally turned his head to face Jamie, looking him straight in the eye. He might've not believed Jamie all the way, but right now, by the look in those two blue wells, it was clear he was dead-serious, and extremely concerned. “Let you see or hear it more coherently wile you’re in that space?”

 

[JayMessi]

"I don't need to hear about what I 'could've' done." Jamie grumbled in retort, even though his friend had long before picked up on the fact he needed to silence himself. Pale eyes were seemingly unequipped to adjust to the overcast; the contrast of the vivid ever expanding blue of the sky becoming overwhelmed with seemingly nefarious shades of grey agitated the retinas. Perhaps that was why Jamie was so snappy at the moment. He had already found himself on edge teetering close to every physical limit imaginable, one other physical inconvenience would understandably put him on edge. Admittedly, Jamie hadn't been easy to be around. In chronic pain he seemed hardly present, and when he was it seemed as if he was quick to lose patience. There was a time, early on, where he recognized his attitude and seemed to attempt to filter it more but as the situation continued to exhaust him he seemed to be less apologetic as his sanity waned.

If he continued on this path he might isolate the last friend he had, and he was well aware of it. Sucking in the winter air he tried to calm his nerves.

“I don’t know what I killed…” He muttered solemnly. Hands dug deep into the winter coat, gloved hands took a tight grip of the polyester lined fabric of the pockets with enough force to tear at its seam. The frost in the air was now almost suffocating as once more his mind was overcome with the being’s unintelligible commentary. It must’ve been obvious. How Jamie’s muscles tightened, how he gained an inch or two as he was forced to straighten with the tension, he must’ve looked like a cat leaping into a startle over an adversary unseen in Chaz’s perspective.

Jamie let out a disgruntled groan before finding himself colliding into his larger friend. A couple of stuttered steps back and a moment to gain his composure later he hadn't realized just how close they were to Chaz’s house. He noted the light in the kitchen, his mother must’ve been home and for some reason a sense of dread trickled through him. He didn’t know if he had the energy to facilitate small talk at the moment. The way people looked at him now…acted about him. It all felt either hostile or ingenuine.

They all asked that dreaded question, how are you doing? It wasn’t just the question, it was the way they’d say it. Voice pitched an octave higher than what was natural and with a crinkle between the brow to express a premature sense of sympathy. He still haven’t quite navigated how to answer the question. Honesty seemed to bring an uncomfortable aire in the room.

“Huh?” Jamie said, a few quick blinks pulling him back into the moment as he focused back in on his friend. He parted his lips as if ready to go on the offensive, but his features relaxed as the other continued on. Jamie seemed reluctant momentarily. It had been a long day and he had been…trapped in his own mind long enough. But maybe if he did this ritual he would have some semblance of control over what visions his twisted mind set forth. Plus, Chaz would be there to pull him out of it if things got far too intense. He wanted this, so why was he getting cold feet as soon as he was given a somewhat viable course of action. Even with his optimism, he couldn’t help but find the phantom sensation of an unworldly beast looming over him and couldn’t help but wonder what would happen if the thing were to grasp hold of him.

“You can’t tell the difference between an alligator and a croc?” Jamie echoed trying to cast the sensation aside, clearing his throat in the process.

“I guess it’s worth a shot, right? I’m in.”

 

[kevintheradioguy]

The other man side-eyed Jamie, hearing the comment. “Well, you don’t have to be an asshole about it.” Chaz mumbled back, not in a confrontational manner. He probably wasn’t as offended at Jamie’s snaps and quips as most people: he knew the teen, and himself was a bit on an indifferent side. It was more akin to an acknowledgement of rapidly changing behaviour, rather than condescension.

Scratching the back of his head, Chaz sighed. The fact that Jamie didn’t remember much didn’t make his job of pinpointing the ritual easier. This is going to be a long journey, he thought, if it will ever end. He was still unsure whether the thing was in Jamie’s head figuratively speaking, or literally. Whether or not his friend went crazy, or he actually experienced some otherworldly thing. And he didn’t know what he had hoped for. One wasn’t better than the other. The latter proved the existence of some sort of spirits and demons, and other otherworldly beings that wish harm on him; and former – that his friend would probably end up in a ward at some point, turning int a vegetable under some sort of modern drug. Either wasn’t ideal.

The demon, he thought. He’d probably prefer a demon of psychiatric ward.

“Well, they say something about some sort of, like, fourth tooth protruding or something, but I think that when the thing is close enough you don’t really have time or desire to give it some sort of impromptu dental appointment, yanno?” He tried to lighten the mood even if a little.

Somewhat inspired by Jamie’s willingness to act, Chaz gave him a big, toothy grin, his fingers with painted nails locking on Jamie’s wrist, as he exhaled with a loud “Then let’s freakin’ go!”

The battle cry… or, rather, battle exhale was short-lived, however, as the “freakin’ go” part meant only that he dragged his friend over the slow-peppered trail and between his mother’s garden pots to the front door, simultaneously looking for the house keys. It sounded much more exciting that it actually was.

The insides of his house were nothing but conventional. Light-green walls with wooden panels on the bottom, and pastel paintings on an eye level, oak floor, a few simple carpets here and there. The clothes rack near the entrance was empty but a small beige coat and a faded lilac scarf, hinting that the man of the family wasn’t here at the moment. Throwing his coat on one of the hooks, Chaz tried to avoid his mother and quickly dart upstairs, to his room, but wasn’t quick enough, stopping in his tacks as soon as he heard a dulled out voice from where the smell of cinnamon and pastry came:

“Charlie, are you back home?”

He stopped, just a few steps up.

“Yes, mum.” He responded, the look of embarrassment on his face. How come teenagers were so ashamed to talk with their parents around their own friends?

“Did you bring a friend over?” It seems like she heard another set of steps in the house.

“Yeah-uh… Jamie’s here. We’ve some homework to do.” It was obvious he didn’t believe his own lie. Did his mother believe it? She didn’t give a hint.

“Oh, let me was my hands and say hello!”

This seemed to be the peak embarrassment for Chaz, as he unceremoniously grabbed Jamie again, dragging him upstairs with him.

“No time!” He exclaimed. “We have a lot to do!”

There was only a glimpse of a dyed blond head before they both disappeared around the corner, but the melodic voice still proceeded, now louder as the woman was closer:

“Are you staying for dinner, Jamie?” It was all so normal, so... not-evil-spirit-is-trying-to-drive-me-crazy. There was warmth in the house, and the smell of something sweet being prepared, and warm lights, and casual talk. His mother wore a cute pink apron over pastel-green sweater, and the stairs creaked like in a country home. And then, there was also this entity, looming over, crawling in the shadows, its presence obvious, even if somewhat dimmed by the normality of this place. Was it maybe spooked by warmth and light? Why not at his own place, then? Why here?

“Dunno yet.” Chaz responded for him. “Will tell you later, bye!”

The door to his room creaked open, letting both in, and then shut closed with a little bit too much force. The teen leaned over it, sighing.

“Sorry ‘bout that.”

His room was a stereotypical gothic lair from way back in late-90s. Walls so covered with posters, and stickers, and drawings, and scribbles it was impossible to tell their original colour, as it all blended in the mix of black and white with occasional splashes of red and hot pink. A special place there held a large poster of a woman in a deep-red dress, dancing with a pale black-clad man: it was a poster they both tore off the theatre wall during the school trip to New York. At the time it looked beautiful: the woman’s dress all covered in small gemstones, like blood drops, the man’s suit velvety and dark. Now it looked cheesy, but it was, nonetheless, a good memory. Along the walls small Christmas lights lit up the shelves stuffed with books on occult mixed with art ones, revolving around horror and music bands Jamie knew little of. Black curtains drawn, star patterns on them visible, under the window stood a bed with the biggest splash of colour in the room: tiger-patterned blanket, and about half a dozen of pillows, all depicting a famous white kittle with a bow on her head. So, Chaz liked Hello Kitty, so what? As if there wasn’t enough things to bully him for and get completely ignored. The air was thick and sweet, smelling of incense he used here, and making thin layer of smoke curl under the ceiling. It smelled like sugar and poppy seeds.

Quickly throwing his backpack at the cluttered desk, he leaned back on the dark table top, crooked smile on his lips.

“So, uh…” He suddenly wasn’t sure about this. This didn’t quite sound like Chaz. “What those people on the forum said you should do. It’s simple, really. You gotta, like… sit down, or lie down or whatever. Get into the most comfortable position you can. Yanno, have a cocoa, put on the comfortable pants, try to relax. Start reciting some sort of a mantra, we’ll see if we can translate one suiting you. As you do so, you’ll eventually start kind of drifting of. Like, falling asleep. So you gotta try and not sleep, though. Kind of grab onto that semi-asleep state and hold onto it. I guess…” He rubbed his chin in deep thought. “I guess what they tried to say was… that you gotta meditate for a bit. Wait till it gets dark in your head, like, completely dark! And then imagine you’re crawling out of the earth, out of the roots onto some sort of a light meadow or something. River over there, forest over here, mountains from afar. And then just, like, start wandering around until an animal comes. Not be afraid of it, just sort of try and establish contact.”

He paused for a few seconds, shaking his head slowly in doubt, before making a few slow steps towards the night stand.

The creature waited. Listened. It was again in its passive state: ever present, but not trying to communicate, or hurt, or confuse. Its tendrils still buried into Jamie's brain, under the skull, making it itch from the inside... but it was bearable. The feeling of being watched, however, wasn't.

“Now, I think that you don’t really need that forest-meadow-mountain thing going on. This thing sounds like something else, like something… I don’t know. Mental? And mental stuff usually goes down in cities. Or at least that’s my impression. I guess, try to envision something you think is natural for this thing? Wanted around, try looking for it.” He paused again. “And, um… lis’n, I know it probably is-uh… hard to relax when you’ve gone through all this bullshit, so-uh…” Chaz bit his lip for a second, before shaking his head quickly, hair roughing up like on a mangy dog, as he shook off the doubt as well. He turned to his friend, adding: “So today you will learn what am I masking the smell of by burning the fucking incense in my room!” His voice was almost triumphant as he said so, pointing to a now open drawer.

“Oh, oh. Some music might help, and also, like, mask what we’re doing here from my folks.” He hurried up to his laptop to find something suiting, ignoring the fact all this tirade about masking them getting comfortable in bed, doing drugs and such probably sounded like they were going to be intimate rather than try to unmask some sort of a spirit. “What would you like? Oh, in the meantime, I’ll try to see if I can find something about this thing. But, man, you aren’t making it easy for me. I don’t even know what you did besides blood being involved.”