Tuesday, October 29, 2013

13 Posts Of Halloween (2013 Edition) #9 Short Story Part.4

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Hidden In The Darkness
(A short story by S. Emory (Nobody))
Part 4

    Its been three nights since the dream, three nights since I woke up drenched in sweat and covered in blood, I haven't slept, haunted as I am from waking nightmares. The night of the incident was the one year anniversary of her disappearance, the next day detective Richardson called to tell me they had found more of the mysterious hand prints, and two more bodies but no sign of her, and then in a way that tried to hide the truth he told me they were giving up, her case had officially gone cold and he was being reassigned. Adding even more reason for me not to sleep, more fuel to my waking nightmares.
I stand still staring at the blank canvas I've been trying to paint, I've lost track of time, no longer sure of how long I have been standing here, I feel nothing. No emotion and nothing physical as if I'm not real, as if I've ceased to exist. I've been standing in the same spot for hours but I don't feel tired or stiff, hungry or exhausted and it's taken me all these hours to figure out that I feel nothing and I know something has to be wrong but I can't bring myself to care.
"Am I depressed?"
"What does being depressed feel like?"
I don't know but this feels like something else, like something I can't control, something that's happening to me not something I'm doing to myself. 
   I try to force my hand to move, to pick up the paintbrush that has been sitting on the edge of the easel waiting for me to paint since I can't remember........that's when I realize that I can't remember what I did last, why I came over here to paint and just how long I've been standing here, without moving, thinking the same things over and over again.
As soon as my hand twitches it's like a spell has broken and I'm suddenly aware of myself again, my knees threaten to buckle beneath me proving to me that I've been standing here much longer than I thought. I feel weak and my whole body starts shaking uncontrollably. I struggle to pull air into my lungs, the rational part of me trying to convince myself that I'm having a panic attack, nothing more, while a bigger part of me knows that nothing has been so simple since she disappeared and as the thought enters my mind the memory of that day takes over....

We walk down the street the sun setting gently behind our backs, our arms linked together as we giggle over something her boyfriend said, every time I relive it I've forgotten another part the joke was the first to go. As if the simple process of remembering drives it farther and farther away. Zeke, her boyfriend, trails along behind us arms full of our bags but grinning all the same. It was normal, a day like a thousand before it, my favorite days were always ones like this, where my whole world consists of her, my twin sister, my favorite person in the world. I've always had problems making friends, fitting in, since our dad died and our mom abandoned ship, and when I was with her it was the only time I felt like I meant anything to anyone. She used to joke that I was born a tortured artist and that's why I'm a natural loner and the only time I didn't feel like that was true was when we were together. I remember that day perfectly, though the small details fade away a little more each time and I'm terrified to lose the whole thing no matter how painful it is to remember. 
    I remember the smell of roses as we passed the corner flower shop and the look on her face when Zeke stole a single rose and tucked it behind her ear, the sounds of the day winding to a close as the store owners one by one turned their signs to closed and how darkness surrounded us all at once, complete and absolute, but that was later.
We had almost reached the apartment when it started raining, and we started running with our coats held above our heads, laughing and yelling at Zeke to protect our purchases with his life. And slowly I noticed a change, the air felt thicker and I saw shadows moving in from all sides, then nothing but darkness, everywhere, And then her screams........

I woke up a week later in the hospital, the detective said they found me and Zeke unconscious lying in the street, and no sign of her, no sign of what had happened to us. Nothing but a set of bloodied hand prints imprinted into the wall of the alley and the nightmares that haunt me.

Click here for Part 1!
Here for Part 2!
Here for Part 3!

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