\"Writing.Com
*Magnify*
SPONSORED LINKS
Printed from https://writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1086047-Night-Times-Call
Item Icon
Rated: 13+ · Short Story · Other · #1086047
A half crazed man hears voices of his fate.
Night Times Call
Written by
Charles O’Connor

In the deep dark depths of night, when beings more sadistic and nightmarish than any human can imagine come into the world to perform acts of unspeakable evil and emanate feelings, which are the genesis of nightmares, faint, but agonizing howls penetrate my ears, awaking memories of a horror that forever remains trapped in my brain.
In the middle of early adult hood, rather it was the consequence of fate or the intention of something in universes people are immune in deciphering, I know not, but one morning while sitting upon my decaying front steps and enjoying the luminous rays of the suns rising, a young dark haired man with a paleness only the moon could match came staggering down the road in the manner of a thirsty traveler hopelessly lost in the desert. The dark circles covering his lower eyelids as well as the sweat slithering down his face at a fast pace gave me inclinations that this man was terribly distraught.
Slowly approaching him with concern and a bit of caution, I saw he looked much older than I had thought. His dark hair had areas of grey beginning to appear and his pale skin bore a few wrinkles and as he turned toward me, finally aware of my presence, his blue eyes bulged open in shock and his mouth started quivering in attempts to bring about words.
It took him a few tries but as he began talking, a feeling of uneasiness awoke within me. He spoke of hearing voices, not human voices but rather a collection of sounds bent on his destruction and were not of anything heard by earth’s inhabitants. To the best of his associative ability, he compared it to the sound of twisted church organs and the clanging of bells followed by unholy moans.
The more he talked the more I sensed his sanity starting to unravel so I asked him to come and sit on the front porch. While staggering toward the steps and telling him he could sit in the rocking chair in the far corner, I noticed he was extremely tired. Asking when was the last time he got any sleep; I became most shock when he told me four weeks. Collapsing into the rocking chair and after catching his breath he began telling me of his horrendous journey:
‘Some months ago in the mid summer I began having desires to sleep under the stars. It eluded me as to where this desire came from but I felt it originated from the fact that my whole life was spent among people and the materialistic world and I began getting bored with this world and of its offerings. So one night when the breeze was blowing steadily and the moon was full, I took my sleeping bag outside and got inside it. Looking up at the shiny assortments in the sky was at the time quite tremendous but rather intimidating. I had never felt so small and insignificant before in all my days. Too tell the truth, I swear that if I had let my consciousness wander than I’d of been separated from my earthly vessel, floating off to God know where but tiredness soon seeped in cutting off any bizarre feelings and I soon fell asleep. As the days passed I began feeling called upon each night to sleep under the stars and with each night an awareness of something evil amongst the stars watching me began filling my consciousness and increasing each night. As it grew I began having nightmares too horrible for my mind to remember and these dreams left horrible fear upon my waking.”
With deep concern, for he was now shivering horribly from having to relive these frightening experiences through speech, I told him he could rest at my place for the night and my kind offering brought a smile of relief upon his face. Though I did not believe a single word of which he spoke aloud that morning, I still cooked him food and throughout the day did my best in helping him recapture his strength.
When the sun began dying down and the moon slowly rose above the dark sky; later followed by millions of stars, he became increasingly agitated. He was calm for most of the day, lying on the couch drinking orange juice and telling me tales of his journeys to far off places but now was reduced to a shivering wreck in a rocking chair, looking out the window and up at the night sky.
When it was time to hit the sack, I kindly informed him that the guest room was near my bedroom so that if he was in need of something, all he had to do was wake me up. Nodding and bidding me goodnight, he listlessly walked into the guest room collapsing on the bed.
Sometime in the middle of the night, I was awoken by the sound of inhuman growling. First, I thought it to be just a figment of my imagination until it grew in frequency, which prompted me to arise from my bed. Slowly following the sound, I traced it to a dark corner in the hall. “A huge rat, that must be it,” I told myself, until I felt a movement of rather warm fast moving air pass right by me, brushing against my face and traveling into the guest room, bringing the terrible noise along with it. Now I thought it to be a bat and the last thing my poor guest needed after his traumatizing psychological experience was to be awoken by a bat.
I had not taken but a few steps when a loud painful wail, the kind that surge from the mouth of people being devoured alive by vicious carnivores, made me jump in my tracks. It took me but a few seconds to regain my thoughts and realize that it was my guest. I turned on an oil lamp sitting atop an old dresser and put it near his face. He was moving erratically in circles mumbling things of blackness, flaming skulls and tombstones. By his facial expressions which quickly followed, I could sense he was about to talk of one last thing but quickly arose from his slumber in blood chilled fear.
“Aaaah for God-Sake help me,” he yelled. I quickly grabbed his shoulders telling him to get a hold of himself. He shivered asking me who he was and where he was. For some reason unbeknownst to me, he had lost his identity in his dream but after some time with me retelling everything to him, from the point of his arrival up to now, he calmed down and went back to sleep.
When the sun-rose and we were at the breakfast table eating flapjacks, I asked him if he recalled the events of last night. He shook his head and said he did not recall dreaming once last night but had the same fear inside that was always present except this morning it was of greater strength.
It was difficult for me to accept his request of staying a few more days when he asked me that afternoon. I felt empathy for him but his continued talk of hearing hellish voices that were seemingly approaching and set on devouring him was of utter nonsense and was making me most uncomfortable.
With a heavy heart I silently walked to the guest room where I found him sitting on the bed reading a red back book of Grimm Fairytales. My face had a slight hint of hesitation on it as I came in and sat down beside him. He gently put the book down and looking at my face he knew what I was going to ask and said that I was not to worry, he would be leaving right now. His tone was as if I left him for dead and as he was walking angrily to the front door I called his name out just as he was close to stepping out.
He asked what I wanted in a tone of tears and I gave him my opinion and an offer. I said that his problem was a foreign one to me since I never had or experienced someone having it. But that I would take him to a psychiatrist and even walk him home to make sure he arrives safely and successfully. His reaction was more of what I didn’t expect than what I had hoped for. He looked at me with his blue eyes locked in a menacing stare as he walked up to me saying I was wrong to think of this as a mental disorder but he appreciated my offerings and would abide to them. Smiling with satisfaction I grabbed my jacket and we headed out the door.
His house, from what he told me was a few miles in the woods. I had been down that area once in a while but mostly avoided it because I disliked the odd grayness that covered the tree branches and leaves as well as their odd back and forth; side to side movements. Upon entering the woods I saw the grass was somewhat high and yellow and there were several ponds of murky water in the distance that had huge mold covered rocks surrounding them; some spaced close and others far apart.
He began feeling uneasy as the grey leafless branches of the trees that surrounded us began shaking as if plagued by demonic possession. He started to tell me the unholy sounding church organs and inhuman growls were getting louder and closer and that we had to do something.
I told him that when we reached his house I would call the doctor for I began arriving to the conclusion that he was experiencing the onset of a nervous breakdown. But he wouldn’t listen and dropped to the pine straw covered ground holding his ears and howling like some sort of demented beast.
“Oh God it is coming,” he screamed. His eyes began rolling to white and I stood back in disbelief as I saw his face begin to peel off turning into layers of brown scales. His blue eyes were now yellow and he began calling to what I figured to be a demon.
He yelled out in a tone of worship, “My body is your temple! Oh, hail the being that lies amongst the stars waiting to choose members of the human race to obliterate. You have chosen me, come dwell within.” I shrieked out in horror as I saw an opening of yellow light appear amongst the night sky. As it opened wider, the most devilish sound protruded from it as I saw a circle of flaming skulls moving around in cycles. Coming through the mouth of those skulls was a luminous apparition of orange hazy light that leaped down from the sky in a snake like hiss.
I knew not what happed then but two cops who said I had passed out awakened me. In shock, I cried out for the condition of my companion. The cops looked baffled and informed me I had come out in the woods by myself. I told myself, as the cops drove me home, that I would spend the rest of my days locating any information on the condition of my friend.
Months passed and no information on the guy’s whereabouts or even existence surfaced. I soon gave up until one night I had a dream. I dreamt of floating cones, spheres, eons of light, and numerous stars. In between all of that, I saw a white figure floating through continues vortexes and dimensions. It was what used to be my friend. He had a blank look on his face and was now just a thing floating into eternity. I know he had once existed but whatever that light was, it erased him from the dimension of humanity and only in dreams does his memory live on.
© Copyright 2006 lovecraft23 (elmorocks at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates have been granted non-exclusive rights to display this work.
Printed from https://writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1086047-Night-Times-Call