I was walking through the woods, not sure how I got there, or why, just remember waking up walking, I am alone in this memory, and walking careful not to alert animals to my presence, and I am scared, not sure of what, but I know it is not human…
I am in the woods, so it doesn’t make much sense, because it is the woods, not the ocean, but I feel the sense that we are always on the verge of sinking, as if we are treading water. She keeps her head close to mine, and every so often, I can feel her breath. She whispers in Spanish in my ear, I am not fluent, so I don’t know what she is saying, but I feel safer with every word she says, knowing only that as I continue, i am getting safer.
I wake up sweat drenched and alone, but not anywhere I started. I am in the woods, alone, there is no one around. I look for the woman, and no one is to be seen. To this day, I am convinced I met a ghost in those woods that saved me from drowning in a swamp. My name means from swamp, I wonder to this day, if this was some sort of vision of a relative.
They spoke to me, I talked to rocks, to stones, to pillars, to rock formations, which are not usually talkers, but this time they were, on that hill, that day with her.
Telling their story, they spoke quite softly, they talked at night, and quite darkly. They spoke of death and of loss they had seen, they spoke in voices, like in a dream. It was quite strange, and out of place, being reality, and not dream space, they spoke to me, and told a story, it was of magic, and not gory, not like the other stories, that I already knew, and so I sat, and knew not what to do.
I dare not wake her, lest make them made, she woke anyway, and I felt bad, why must she miss all I see, she was asleep and in a dream.
Sometimes, I wake up and I am not me, but someone else, somewhere else, and if nothing else, I am aware, that this means very bad things are happening to me, somewhere else, where I am actually myself. This time, I wake up in a painting. I am not sure why, but I am aware that I am in the painting, which kind of feels like lucid dreaming for normal people, I guess.
It feels like actually being in a canoe, like I am imagining is in the painting which I am hallucinating, or for regular people, lucid dreaming. The only difference is very strange. I am extremely warm. It feels like sunburn.
I am so warm in fact, that I want to jump out of the canoe, which I do, immediately, and feel the water in the painting hit my skin, but also feel the burning sensation go away, as I imagine other water hits my real skin. I am comforted by this fact, that somewhere ele, where I actually am, I am not burning alive, and then I hear it, a commotion, coming from somewhere else, it is a sound I recognize, fire alarm, blarring, somewhere else.
My apartment is on fire.
I am brought back to present time, someone is spraying those of us walking out with a firehose. I am holding a painting of people in a canoe. The strange thing is, it is not the painting from my apartment, there is someone in the waterr next to the canoe, they were not there before.
How many times have I made this bed?
I am room 39.
I am ironic because I am very eeriely close to 36.
I am a room in a motel, but I am also a number close to 36.
I am a number with a 3 and a 6 flipped upside down, which is the same as the hands that write this on a computer.
I am a room where there is a ghost that locked these hands in a closet for an hour.
She is staring at a candle that is underneath a sheet. The candle is on the wall of a house that has been abandoned by its owner’s long ago. She tells me that she feels the pain of the walls, and I ask what she means, she says she too has been abandoned long ago. I tell her that human beings should not have owners, she laughs, and tells me she does not understand why I am telling her this.
I am fading into the walls.
I explain that she is not like the house, which has been abandoned because the house was owned by humans, she tells me she knows how that feels, and I ask her why, this time not bothering to remind her about her humanity. She tells me that since she could remember she always had the company of a male stranger, and now has no one. I tell her we should leave this house, getting an eerie feeling by all that she has revealed, she says she does not think she can, and I tell her she can do whatever she likes. She asks me if I mind if she stays in this house because it has always been her home. I tell her I am leaving, she refuses to come with me.
I left the house in the middle of the night, and the woman followed me, despite her claims that she intended to do the opposite, when we were about 50 feet from the house, I turned my head, and saw her running back towards the dreadful house, I did not follow her, afraid of what drew her back to it’s unearthly darkness.
I am sitting staring at the ground, in this memory with lack of sound, lack of presence of anyone around, simply staring down not up at the plain old ground. I am thinking about nothing, that is a lie, I am thinking about
Her, as I am usually thinking about her, but not the her that I usually am thinking about a different one….
I heard this voice…. a strange voice, long ago…. this is a memory… this whole thing… not just this part of it…
THE NARRATOR IS INSANE
You don’t even use my name now…. that’s kind of ****ed up
You have too many names to keep using one or the other.
I have two, and one of them is yours.
Are you going to finish your story?
No…… I think I will just leave it with this……..
I was walking once, in the middle of the night. It was about three in the morning. I had been drinking after hours with a group of people that I had met at the bar that seemed interesting enough to be worth talking with a little longer, so I went back to their place and stuck around till about 4 in the morning. I like to watch the sun rise, so I left with enough time to be able to catch the sunrise.
I began walking from the house, unfamiliar with where I was and trying to get my bearings, I was beginning to return to hated sobriety, and had the very beginnings of that having slept in a whiskey bottle feeling, like the mouse in Dumbo.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a vehicle come up alongside me, or so I thought. I looked to my side, having sworn I saw it move. The strangest thing, was the car alongside me, that I swore had just parked next to me, looked unoperational. It had two flat tires and a bunch of tickets tucked under the windsheild wipers that were soaking wet, looking like they had been there long enough that the car was recognized to be abandoned.
I still wonder to this day, why had I seen the car driving… was I in some alternate dimension for a second…
Standing in front of the mirror, as a child, not right now, not here.
Well, obviously, you are not a child right now, right here.
Are you sure?
Yes, even though you act like one, you are not one.
Unfortunately, because I would be the funniest child ever.
That already happened, and we were pretty funny, if terrifying is funny.
I am the creature in the bushes.
I am my own nightmares.
I am denial of self.
I am life spent on shelf.
I am a child standing in front of a mirror, staring into space, or looking in a mirror, or staring into space.
I see my face now, not then but now.
I was afraid of this person that looked kind of like me, but older that I said had done things I would never do, because I was eight and doing heroin was bad.
I think now that I might have been able to see me now, but that is probably some delusion or something.
I can still talk to you though we exist not in the same dimension, all the time at least, I visit you because I see you, you see me and you speak and I hear you because I listen. I listen to everything, to the mutterings of the under spoken word, to the shouting to mad dark night, to the words callously yelled into chaotic dark night, because they used to consume me, but they don’t anymore, because I realized I can cast them out on here.
I travel back and forth to Misery through my mind, and through others, who I see, stuck there, and they speak to me from there. I can see it in them speaking to me, speaking through them now, this came to me last night after a dream, I have been having strange dreams.
I am thinking that ghosts sometimes just want to be heard and are not used to being heard so say thing that they have always wanted to say very quickly and it is up to me to decode them because the universe is showing me them and them me for a reason, positive being the key over negative.