I
“Now I know I'm crazy.”
A woman stood back to admire her handiwork, a very elaborate setting to prove she was not crazy. The wires, bags, springs and net were all checked with scrutiny and ready.
It had not always been this way, she was once a happy lady that enjoyed a rich life of culture, refinement, and the odd rock party or ten. The best part to any day was coming home and unwinding with a glass of coffee liqueur, a pre prepared meal she did herself, and a warm shower. At least those were the good old days.
Today, enough was enough. While she hoped it was her insanity, her sanity required evidence to logically be sure. In the day, supplies were bought, tools were used, and so many things were learned. All of it, was to try capture the something she hoped was not there.
Seating down in a corner to drink a shaking glass of her favourite, a familiar calm emerged from the strong drink. It reassured and assured the safety of the home, and the certainty of the devices. Her fondest prediction was to wake up and see nothing disturbed, nothing changed, and please not a single feather.
Now the collection had grown. Where once there was one, now were there a dozen. A month had yielded these feathers, mornings with no explanation as to how they got here. No birds had been seen since the start of the winter season, no window left unlocked even one night. She cursed to herself as she thought about it.
“Being alone is making you crazy... None of this would be happening if not for that ridiculously charming show, and those stupid fan fiction writers.”
Yes, the show she recently discovered was one of colourful delight. Spurning the blandness of the day and the darkness of reality. It was wonderful to read all the creative stories that people could come up with, while the adult filter was turned on of course. Then she came across this story, the one that snapped the final twig. That idiot user two one three five D had come up with this ridiculous idea of a character visiting people in their sleep. A woman not unlike herself, although mature young adult was a nicer description. The title of the tale that instilled these crazy ideas; The Justified Insanity of a Now Paranoid Sane Person.
“Stupid story, stupid writer. All because of that other one... Shouldn't have turned off the adult filter. Man I'm such a sucker for a love story.”
Her thoughts could not even enjoy the drink. The night the story was read, she had a dream again. It was the same creature as before, but less hazy. Instead of the soothing flow of a dream, there was this shock. The creature that lay beside her was a double of her least favourite character from the show. There was no mistaking it. What made her believe in the story the most however, was the fact of what the creature did when her name was spoken.
It shouted out in shock, fell off the bed, and then she woke up. Now there was no reason at all to think anything of it, merely her subconscious interpreting the story from that idiot. What she found that morning however, made her blood run cold.
There were feathers. Many feathers. Not only that, but accompanying them was a distinct mark on the wall of her bedroom. It had a shape to it, something familiar. None of her friends knew, no one knew about this insanity. All the logical reasoning could not change the fact, that there it was. She had looked about the wall hoping it was one of those following images, as though she had slept on her eye. It did not move. A wipe with her pyjama's sleeve diminished the marking, more scrubbing and it disappeared. There was something wrong.
It was insane, and she did not like being thought of as weird by all her friends. Two sleepless nights later she contacted this writer, hoping for her or him to be the last clutch of preserving the sanity that remained. It had been done through an alternative user name, created specifically to ask. No one would know she sent it, no one would track her down and laugh. The message was simple enough;
Hey there!
I just wanted to say I think your story is very funny and a little quirky. I loved reading it! Where did you get the inspiration for such a crazy idea?
La femme anon.
The response was irritatingly vague.
Thank you for your kind words. I am glad you enjoyed it! No inspiration here sadly, just a random thought. I hope you continue to enjoy all the other stories on the site!
Regards
As far as answers went, that closed off all further communication in a sickeningly neat way. Since this was not helpful, the solution was the same to any other problem in life. Sit down and give a think.
So it had not hurt her...yet. Assuming it was real of course, there would have to be evidence. As of now, there was none aside some feathers and that mark. Assuming it was real, why was it coming back. What did it do to her when she slept, what can it do. These questions only drove further shivers up the spine. It became overwhelmingly confining in her loft apartment before she was at the limit.
"NO!" She screamed to nothing. Her sanity had enough, so it was time to find out. That very moment she had stepped out to the local hunting store to return with an assortment of humane traps, a net, knife, wire, motion activated camera, and sadly a darling keychain of a cute monkey.
The day was long, many a YouTube video and a return trip for the bait mix. A trap nearly took her fingers off by the foot of the bed, needless to say that one was not set up.
After the hot shower and many glances over her shoulder, she dressed in the most secure garments she could find. They were army level clothing bought online, never had a women's fit, but the large chest shirt was perfectly comfortable and loose. She looked herself over in the full body bathroom mirror. Her red hair was thankfully behaving today, her figure surprisingly sporty in the new threads. A quick spin and twist about revealed a firm buttock to be proud of, sadly topped with the small and most stubborn love handles. A tap and slight jiggle did little to belay her concerns.
"One day we'll get you, she sighed with a grin."
It was time to go lock up the doors and windows tight, proud of her new latches and locks perfectly attached as instructed. Turning the heating down and making her way to bed, the flour tin in the kitchen caught her eye. It was insane, and messy. But considering her bed was surrounded with traps for wild animals, the question was raised why not go that little extra bit.
All the lights went out aside the bedside lamp. As she climbed into bed, much like a super thief through lasers, she scattered tufts of flour all about the perimeter of the bed. Setting the tin on the side and leaning to turn the lamp light out, there was an odd sense of pride as to what was accomplished.
Despite the insanity of it all, she felt safe at last. For learning it all from YouTube, the traps had been lain expertly. I was her gift to pay scrutinising attention, even at work. Now the weekend was starting, the preparations were ready, and it was time to prove once and for all...that she could stop being crazy.
It was crazy after all to imagine a character from an animated series was stalking, even secretly sleeping beside her. Tonight would put it all to rest though, tonight would put her mind at ease.
Leaning back and pulling the thick quilt high, she nestled in for a good nights rest at last. Army shirts were surprisingly comfortable, not that it was a problem for someone who had to live with hand me downs. At least that was all in the past.
As always, she said a silent prayer of thanks for the blessings around her. A simple and comfy loft, safe family and still being here to say thanks. She prayed for her loved ones and the world, then felt sleep settling in. There was a mischievous feeling laced with dread. Tonight was going to prove one thing; she was insane, or she wasn't. There was this overwhelming hope for the former, yet the tiniest little squeak for the latter.
The night was wonderful. Beautiful dreams and sweetest sleep. That entity came once more to her sleep. This time she had spoken with it murmurings her mind could not remember. Morning had dawned now. The silent mornings of winter were always the quietest. As a child on Christmas in the nineties, she woke up eager.
That eagerness however turned to horror. Every single trap had been sprung.
It was impossible to understand how this could happen, how she had slept through it all. The net had fallen, the wires snapped, the bait piled neatly into a corner. There was still a chance it was all a mistake, all a coincidence. It was overwhelmingly scary to look over the side of that bed, hoping with everything there was nothing there.
As with many hopes, this one was dashed. Expecting a disturbance was already scary, seeing it however was...confusing. Where there should have been the familiar rounded shapes, there was instead a message.
No amount of blinking would make it go away, nothing would make it go away. If it was her mind playing tricks on her, it wasn't getting paid enough.
Upon investigating the four thousand photos of the motion camera, only one revealed the truth. It was a discovery of monolithic proportions. It answered many questions and raised countless others. No scientist would believe her, no fan either. What she saw held her breath, clenched her teeth, tightened her muscles and gripped her stomach.
Now many great discoveries throughout the course of history have led to famous sayings and fondest words. These words are carried for generations in the annals of time. This one however led to the words which would begin something, something of epic proportions.
“Oh it's on.”
