The Shambling Darkness

The Shambling Darkness

Post somatic hallucinations; that’s what my psychologist calls them. Merely images created by my subconscious as I wake. It seems that unlike most people, my body wakes up before my mind does, which results in a state of half-sleep, not unlike that of a sleep walker. In a few delicately formulated phrases, Dr. Shawn O’Neil was able to explain the reasons behind my torturous childhood, plagued with the dark creatures of my subconscious.

“Nothing to worry about really,” he explained, chewing on his unlit pipe. “Many people suffer from the same disorders, it usually fades after childhood.”

“Shit Doc, I’m 26 now. Spare me the empathetic bullshit, what can I do about it?” I replied, perhaps a little too harshly; I was never really diplomatic.

“Well now, I could prescribe you a medication that will lower the count of dopamine…” Dr. O’Neil began while waving his pipe around, but stopped as he saw me glare at him.

“Uh, what I mean is, it will slow down your brain activity while you sleep, which should stop you from dreaming…” he reformulated, and frowned, “but I cannot recommend such a drastic measure. Dreams are quite healthy, you see, they release stress and tension…”

“I’ll take it,” I interrupted.

“Really child, the best solution would be to train your mind; understand that the hallucinations you suffer from are nothing but figments of your imagination. Holding them back could have serious repercussion on your psyche,” Dr. O’Neil explained, reclining in his chair. “I recall a similar case in Boston, where a young man, about your age, actually, sought religious help in his post somatic hallucinations. Truly a shame, instead of receiving practical help like you are right now, those witch doctors only reinforced his belief that the illusions were quite real; demonic spirits sent to devour his soul, if I remember correctly. The occurrences increased in severity and no amount of “spiritual” help could protect him. The poor man’s sanity finally failed and he ended his life in…”

“I said I would take the medication, don’t patronize me, you don’t have a clue what it feels like. To always be stalked, to live in fear inside your own house. I don’t want to fight it. I can’t make them go away with a wave of my hand. If the medication can stop them, then I’ll take it. I’ll deal with the repercussions,” I flared.

“Calm down Sam. I’ll write the prescription. Just keep in mind that the hallucinations are not real,” O’Neil replied calmly.

Yeah, whatever I thought. I truly did believe him, however. I knew that the “things” that visited me at night were not real, that my mind brewed them up; but I was tired of fighting and most of all, I was tired

I cannot recall a night where I truly slept soundly. I was constantly awakened by twisted creations slowly advancing towards me, whispering evil things. Shambling creatures of formless horror that made no sound as they moved. Even on those rare and blessed nights on which they remained hidden, I received little rest from fear that they still might be lurking in the dark, scrambling within the walls like dark skinned rodents. The stress and the lack of sleep were already showing signs of wear on my body and mind; strands of gray hair sprouted here and there amidst auburn hair, I was emaciated and already showed signs of a weak back. What should have normally been the youthful bearing and enthusiasm was replaced by bitterness and a fatalistic attitude unfit for one as young as I am. I could not hold on to friends or a job as my demeanor always seemed to cost me both. A flagrant aura of dread followed me wherever I went; as if death itself had already lain it’s had on my shoulder. People avoided me; I fell out of touch with the world and, in return, I avoided them.

Even my family was uncomfortable around me. They too, quickly understood that there was something unnatural about me. Sam; the little girl who is afraid at night, who could not go through a single night without crying out. Of course; they were sympathetic at first; all children are afraid at night, all of them wake up screaming from a bad dream now and then. Although, those children grow out of it, I did not. They imagined that there were creatures in the dark,

I saw them…

Soon, my parents became distant, they always assumed that my nightmares will go away, but they never did. My parents could have introduced me to a psychologist; perhaps if my condition would have been discovered earlier on, it could have been cured; but what kind of parent wants to admit that they’re child might be insane? And so it was that they delayed such a decision over and over again, growing colder everyday. Soon enough it became clear that it was pointless. They would tolerate the “thing” that lived in the basement, the “creature” that would sometimes creep upstairs for food then slither back to it’s lair. Each night they would try vainly to ignore the screams and the whimpers that escaped my room with a mix of dread and disgust. It wasn’t long before a lock was installed on my door, a length of cold, steel links, trapping me for the night, only to regurgitate me at dawn.

“It’s for your own protection,” my parents would say, but fear was clear in their eyes.

I dropped out of school when I was only sixteen; it was obvious that I would never graduate anyway. I was not really stupid but the stress caused by my nocturnal visitations and life in a deficient family had left me with little motivation for performance. I decided instead to leave my family and try to make it on my own. I received the traditional slap on the back and a “keep in touch” by my parents but it was clear that my departure brought only relief.

I jumped from one source of employment to another as I could never keep a job for more than a few weeks. My mood darkened even more over the first months so that I could no longer even get past the initial interviews.

“We’ll keep your resume on file,” they would assure me. Sometimes, they wouldn’t even have the decency of waiting until I was gone before rushing off to a co-employee to whisper about “the weird chick.” I left many establishments under the suppressed laughter of people who did not understand what I was going through.

I stopped seeking employment and fell back into the monetary support of the government. I became a creature even further despised; not only was I creepy, but I also lived off the back of everyone else. I was a social parasite, with no reasons to exist. I started leaving my apartment only when strictly necessary and I instead poured over the study of the morbid and the macabre. Perhaps it was a reaction to my lifestyle or maybe it was a way for me to dull my mind to the grotesque; surely if I bathed in horror, filled my every waking hour with images of dread and tales of horror, then my nightly visitations would appear tame in comparison. It did not work unfortunately; my waking nightmares were much more alien, much more real.

Then I decided to pay a visit to Dr. O’Neil, a well-known psychologist from Montreal and got a prescription that could possibly end my torturous night frights. Perhaps even grant me a new life. I was, at first, doubtful of the effectiveness of the drug. Like all of those who suffer greatly, it was difficult to believe in a life without the pain. I was left with no other options however, so I swallowed one of the pills and retired for the night.

What a glorious feeling

After an eternity of sleepless nights, I was finally at rest. I was a little nervous the first night but after testing the efficacy of the drug, I could now sleep soundly; the waking nightmares were gone. No longer did I fear the night and its shadows, no more whispers from the dark; I was a liberated person. Liberated? Nay, reborn. In only a matter of weeks, my complexion had returned to a healthy glow; my figure, beforehand gaunt, took on some weight, and I felt a lot better. I woke every morning refreshed and cheerful. My sudden change in mood also brought me other advantages; I soon got a job in a bookstore, where my good humor was much appreciated and I learned to go out more and mingle with the rest of the world.. I was finally living a real life.

I met Tyler at a coffee shop, surprising myself with my forwardness and soon realizing that we had much in common. I was happy at last; fulfilled. I was in love, I was healthy, nothing could go wrong…or so I thought. Until one night…


“Sam…”

I woke up startled, and peered into the darkness, trying in vain to locate the person behind the voice. Nothing.

“…Mmm, are you awake Sam?” Tyler mumbled.

“Huh? Yeah…it was just a dream; go back to sleep,” I replied.

Tyler rolled over and fell asleep right away. I didn’t.

“Oh my God, please, not again…” I whimpered softly.

The hallucinations were back, subtler than before, almost unseen, but gaining in strength. The very thought petrified me. I had to see Dr. O’Neil again. I called his office and he agreed to meet me right away.

“I need a stronger dose Doc. The drug worked miraculously for the past three months but the visitations, they’re back now,” I explained to him.

“Just as I feared,” responded Dr. O’Neil. “ The drug worked as a crutch for a while, but it did nothing to help the problem in the long run. The brain activity has increased and will keep doing so as long as you rely on the medication.”

“I just need stronger stuff is all,” I pleaded with him.

“No,” he replied simply. “You must understand that the problem will keep getting worse the longer you try to ignore it. The drug alone is not going to solve your problem. Eventually, as your brain gets used to the medication, no dosage will be strong enough to stop the hallucinations. If I were you, I would stop now, while the situation is still manageable.”

“I…I can’t Doc. You have to understand, I have a job now, and mostly; I have Tyler. I can’t loose everything again Doc, I beg you,” I wailed, with tears in my eyes.

“Well, this goes against my better judgment…” He said, staring down at me. “But I am willing to give you a weaker dosage. The hallucinations will come back but you can finally learn to control them.”

He called in my prescription then handed the slip to me.

“Come back and see me in a week; and Sam, try not to worry so much, you’ll pull through,” he said.

“Egocentric bastard,” I thought. That night I swallowed down five of the pills. I could not afford a lower dosage, not after all I went through, not after all I had finally acquired. The renewed prescription gave me three days of rest, then, once again; it failed to hold them back.

"Sam..."

I raised my head in shock. I peered in the darkness and froze. In the far corner of my room stood a figure draped in darkness.

"Sam..." It repeated. "We wait for you..."
For a moment I stood still, horror and fear held me in place and suddenly I started shaking. Dread was replaced by hatred, the chill was replaced by a strange heat that rolled over me.

"Damn you." I said. "Damn you!" I screamed at the thing leering at me and then I lunged at it. Years of frustration, of endless torture put strength in my limbs. Again and again I pummeled the dark figure in front of me. No longer would I await their nocturnal visits with dread. I could defeat them, I could feel the soft flesh erupting beneath my knuckles as I hit the thing over and over again. Dr O'Neil would be proud, I stood up to them.

"The hallucinations are not real..." He had said.

I felt warm blood on my hands.

"You reinforced them by admitting that they existed." He had admonished.

I stopped the flurry of my fists slowly.

"Sam?" I heard Tyler stammer weakly. The darkness lifted, the shadows parted and I saw Tyler crouched in the corner, shivering violently, blood smeared across his face.

"Sam?" He whimpered again from lips now split and bleeding. A face so lovely, a face I loved so much, destroyed by my hands.

"God, no.." I fell to my knees and slowly approached. "It's ok Tyler, I didn't know...just a mistake...Doc will help me. Everything will be alright. But I knew it never would, for as he flinched away from my touch, I saw the same thing I had seen in my parents eyes years ago. I got up, looked down at Tyler for the last time and ran away into the night.

The darkness mocked me silently.

For many days, I forget how many, I ran away from the pain, the pain of the life that was given to me and then ripped away. I did not sleep during those days; My prescription had been left behind and I dared not go to sleep. I had no wish to experience the nightmares unhindered by the drugs. Coffee helped for a few days and so did smoking but it soon became clear that my body would not cope for long. Already, I was like a walking corpse; emaciated, tired, stumbling blindly like a drunk. With the last of my money, I rented a room in a cheap motel and bought a bottle of equally cheap whiskey. The attendant at the motel looked over at me and was clearly used to seeing derelicts like myself and asked no questions.

Once inside the room, I laid down anxiously on the dirty bed without removing my clothes; too exhausted to bother. In truth, I just didn't care anymore. As I rested my head on the pillow, I stared at the world outside through the window. A neon sign was flickering softly; bathing me now in an eerie green glow and then swallowing me in darkness. My eyes closed slowly and I drifted off to sleep.

"Sam..."

I opened my eyes slowly.

"Sam..." I heard again from countless voices.
In the far end of my room laid an inky darkness, not the usual canopy of night but something that fed from light itself; consumed everything around it, creating a hazy grayish halo around itself. And yet, out of that pulsating mist of shadows, many a creature walked out slowly. Things I recognized from childhood but now altogether different. Whereas they were distant before, now they were close, whereas before I could not quite gaze at them, now they were all too clear. Gleaming teeth and pale eyes that stared at me, beckoning me. Shapes I could not make out, as if their angles belonged to another world possessing different laws of geometry. All of them somewhat recognizable yet far too alien too fully comprehend.

"Sam..." The sound came from many a chattering mouth.

Out of the corner of my eyes I saw a light and as I turned, I realized that the sun was rising and that the light pouring in was pushing away the darkness. I cannot remember what happened afterward, I fell unconscious and woke up later in the afternoon.

I partake of my tale now, as a warning. They are coming back; I am only one of the first to be taken. I urge you to heed my warning. As for me, I fear it is too late; they have my smell and sooner or later I'll slip and they will be back.

God, why is it that they make no noise when they move?