The Choice
_The room was soaked in early morning darkness. Window blinds blocked out the majority of the premature sunrise trying to fill in every dark crevice. Within the room, bare essentials of what could be thought of as bedroom requirements were few and far-between. A chest of drawers, waist high, rested adjacent to the blinded windowsill, purposefully placed beside, not under. Beyond was an expanse of whitewashed wall leading to a corner of the room. Then, a walk-in closet, the door open and clothes hung by varying style and color. Orderly.
A queen size bed covered in sage sheets sat squarely in the corner opposite the chest of drawers. Nearby a lone night stand was positioned for easy access. The comforter on the bed was folded neatly at the foot of the bed, covering only the feet of its occupant. A tall man, sleeping flat on his back, arms crossed like a vampire, only with a much more appealing complexion. His hair rhythmically wavered over his mouth with each breath before falling away unbeknownst to his unconscious mind.
Superb attention to detail and spacing had given just enough room for the hallway entrance to close cleanly against the far wall-side bedpost. All that remained of the room had been covered in bookcases of various sizes, each filled to the brim with new and old volumes of a multitude of information. Ranging from simple fiction to scholarly philosophies.
The man turned in his sleep, facing the bright ruby digital display of an alarm clock. A digit changed. 7:59 AM Without warning his eyes fluttered open and immediately absorbed the unaltered surroundings. Two dull and empty hazel eyes glanced around lazily for a moment, then returned back to studying the insides of their lids.
Not long enough to return to sleep, yet enough to catch him off-guard, a high-pitched wail came flooding into his ear, and he jumped. More so, he ejected himself from the comfort of his covers and onto the floor, landing with a resounding_
thud_.
He whispered a curse._
This is the beginning of the last story I will ever write. My name is Matthew King, and I've been writing stories since I was thirteen. Now I'm eighteen. In this time, many stories have been started, but there haven't been any endings. This was supposed to be the first.
I stretched out in my arms in defeat. The past three days hadn't been productive in the least. I played some video games, watched some television, socialized with a few friends, but nothing was progressing on the story.
Originally, it was supposed to be the rewrite of the first story I started working on way back when I first started using anthromorphic characters. But, in the end, turned out to be a complete overhaul on the storyline, plot, and even character development. By the time I started writing, it was obvious that it was going in a completely different direction.
My cell phone chimed, waking me from my daydream. It was Kelsey, my brother's girlfriend. I was still dazing while she spoke, so I had to ask her to repeat her offer. She wanted me to hang out with the gang, meaning they didn't have enough people to show up and they were all out of ideas. Before I gave myself a case of foot-in-mouth, I gracefully declined with the excuse of having to clean my room.
Not that I wasn't up for socializing with my own brother and his girlfriend, but the story wasn't writing itself, and I had to finish it. Call it forceful resentment, but I wasn't going to let another story slip by unfinished. If my mind was willing, I would have it done by daybreak.
As I set my phone down on my desk, the time caught my eye. Though it was only four in the afternoon, the compulsive side of me decided that I was going to take a shower now, so as not to have to worry about it later. I convinced myself that I was for the better.
My family wasn't home because of the constant idea that they had to be busy from morning 'til night. So I grabbed a change of clothes from my drawers and gracefully glided down the hallway toward the bathroom. Curiosity bested me as I turned my head to peer into my brother's room. In complete disarray as per usual.
My drifting mind followed me into the shower as I let the water warm to a comfortable temperature before stepping in. I was in a rut, I admit, but it wasn't going to keep me from finishing that stupid story. I found it oddly humorous to be so cruel to my own creation-in-progress.
The lather I was working into my hair was relaxing, so when a curiously unfamiliar voice reverberated through the bathroom, I didn't even realize. "Matt?" The question was posed again. I nodded before realizing that the speaker most likely wasn't able to see.
"Yo," I replied, the same apathy running through my mind slipping past my lips.
"Just checking."
Hearing the silence afterward, I didn't question further, but only continued to wash the soap from my eye. Nothing in the world seemed to be able to affect me at that moment, which probably wasn't the smartest thing I'd ever let myself do.
Nevertheless, I laxly washed the remaining residue away and turned the water off. I reached out to the towel rack right outside the shower door, grabbed my towel, and pulled it back in. Just another preemptive habit of mine. Then, when I was dry, I wrapped the towel around my waist and stepped out.
"Hey there handsome. Ya know, you're skinnier in person."
That was a voice I didn't recall ever hearing. More than that, how did said voice get into the bathroom when the door was closed? Simple, they opened the door and walked in while you were daydreaming, stupid, I thought to myself. With the first few thoughts through my mind, I risked averting my stare from the empty towel rack.
There, leaning cross-legged on the sink counter, was an impossible sight. The feminine voice was matched by a feminine physique, but that's where similarities stopped. If my imagination were to somehow come alive and place itself in front of me, then I was going to have to slap myself back into reality.
A painful stinging against my cheek and palm was the assurance I needed, but my imagination was still playing games with my head. Not four feet from where I was standing, leaned a one Tera Benik, if I were to judge from pure mental images. The 3-D perspective was almost as startling as the presence itself.
Each and every visible feature that my mind had five years ago created was smiling back at me with a prospective gaze. Emerald eyes, burnt umber hair, the muscle-tone of a Kodokan Judo master, the unsettling presence of a fur coat; it had to have been Tera. After that thought, I slapped myself again, just for good measure.
"Careful, sweetie, you'll bruise that lil' cheek of yours," she calmly scolded.
I was in too heavy a state of shock to speak. My mind was on the verge of snapping trying to decipher the images it was presented. All cognition screamed 'Impossible!' but another cortex called out in a childish fashion 'Poke 'er! Find out for sure!'
If it was all just in my head, then my head was capable of some extremely realistic illusions. Not to mention that it must've been working in overdrive to confuse all of my senses at once. I could see her, hear her . . .
My hand made an attempt at reaching, but fell short by inches. She's not real, I thought.
"I assure you, Matt, I'm very real. Now get your clothes on and come with me, there's something that we need to talk about."
Well, I thought that I had thought that. Nevertheless, resisting the urge to gawk and prod at the vivified apparition of my own mind's decision, I considered the idea of playing along with my own mental game. At least it would be some form of entertainment before I admitted myself to the looney bin. But, seeing as how she seemed to have no intention of looking away, just as I recalled writing out her character to be like, I chose to grab the pair of underwear I brought in with me and receded back into the shower.
A nimble flick of the wrist, with an included awkward balancing act and a tug or two, and they were secured against my waist. With confidence I stepped out and into Tera's line of sight. I suppressed laughing at referring to the figment by the name I gave her. Thinking of the mental trick as a 'her' only slightly agitated me.
The character, as I forced myself to refer, had a confused smile on her . . . it's face. "So, what was the point of going back in there?"
A quick glance down made me realize I had equipped my undergarment without taking off the towel, a feat I didn't even start to question. I removed the towel, folded it neatly, and hung it back up on the rack. "Better?" I inquired.
"Much. Now, please, it's due time that you and I have a nice little chat. But first, you need to be introduced to someone else." She gave a wink and nodded for me to move toward the door.
Something in my mind clicked, and I hesitated. "Fine. I'm all up for a nice little tea party with all my other imaginary friends, but first I'm going to at least be decent about it and put some pants on."
The few steps that it took to traverse the hallway to my room seemed to stretch on for an eternity. Inside my head, a fierce battle was being waged between all reason and the possibility and, as much as I hated to admit, hope that I wasn't dreaming. I had left "the fandom" almost a year prior. That meant that I didn't like stuff like that, didn't it?
Before I had the chance to walk into my room, I heard a gasp of excitement. It was my guess that this was what Tera . . . it, had meant. My best bet would be to simply ignore whatever figment was in my room until I was, at least, somewhat decent.
That would have been the case, had the gasp been only a gasp. But it was followed by a squeal I could have only imagined. "Aaron! It's really you!"
It was deja vu all over again as she came hurtling toward me with her arms open wide enough to grapple five people. Jennifer Strippe, if I was to be so bold as to judge based on pure imagination. Another character of my own design come to life before my eyes.
Still with the inclination that I was dreaming, I forced myself to think that she would stop before reaching me. There's no way that a made-up character can touch someone, right? I was dead wrong. She almost knocked me back into the stairway banister. "Hey, Aaron, when did you get a haircut? I think it looks cute."
Now with the mind-bending thought that it might be more than a dream, I started to panic, in a completely prim and proper fashion. In Laymen's terms, I screamed like a little school girl.
Ten minutes later I found myself laying on my bed, feet hanging off the edge, and my hands covering my face while being comforted by two things that I thought up. Needless to say, their efforts were in vain. Imagine having to accept that something purely fictional had somehow become real and was then dropped without warning into your lap.
"So let me get this straight," I started, "the two of you were somehow brought here by means that neither of you know?" They both nodded. "Wow. How anticlimactic. I always thought that stuff like this had to involve magic or alternate dimensions or some other sci-fi thing. But, then again, nothing like this was ever supposed to be realistically possible, so I guess that I'm just out of luck altogether." Tera gave a smirk. Jenn giggled. I was just glad that I finally had some pants on.
* * * * *
After two days of having my unexpected guests, and after the near call-in of every military service known to man by my dad, things were finally starting to slow back down to a normal pace. It took quite a long conversation to convince both parents that the two things that had 'followed me home' weren't rabid animals, but were actually intellectual creatures of an unknown origin. My biggest fear the entire time wasn't for their safety, but of just what God was trying to prove to me.
The rest of my family kept their distance from Tera and Jenn as much as possible, and I didn't blame them. It was hard for any of us to believe that somehow these . . . things that, by all modern scientific advancements couldn't be real, actually could exist. That is, if we weren't all just living withing my sick, sad delusion.
They weren't, and we continued to live with the additions for a whole month. Something that I had noticed about their arrival had been like a weight on my shoulders, and an emptiness in the pit of my stomach. I felt somewhat incomplete, yet strangely happier at the same time.
Tera and Jennifer were both quite happy in their new surroundings. It was amazing to see them in more than just a story. They both were just as how I had written them to be, and it showed a great change in preferences as well. Tera was unabashed, flirtatious and free-spirited. Jennifer was, on the other hand, was very down to earth, shy, and easy-going. I was just relieved that Jenn had finally stopped calling me Aaron.
One morning I found myself waking to the sounds of general disarray, as per usual. But there was a difference this time. Instead of the usual giggles and shouts from the girls playing Halo or watching Family Guy, there were stutters that came through what sounded like a choked esophagus.
My immediate attention was directed toward the television, in case they were watching a movie. I saw no such thing as the thing was still muted from the night before. No, it was to my left, in the doorway, that I saw it. A shrouded hand wrapped tight around Jennifer's throat. I was up instantly.
I ran toward the door only to be stopped dead in the doorway by a haunting echo of a scream. It hadn't come from Jenn. "Sounds like Tera's awake . . . " I followed the trail of the voice from the silhouette of a chest to a hand that was still wrapped tightly around Jenn's neck. No, the sound was from the room just across the hallway where the two had been sleeping. Tera.
"Who're you?!" I commanded.
The figure was still hiding in the shadows of the early morning darkness, but didn't hesitate to step out into the light. A creature, much like the two that had entered into my life only weeks before, and only taller than Jenn by inches came into clear view. The shadows still hid just enough to give off an evil essence. "Who do you think I am?"
The sound that came from its mouth was raspy and emotionless. Masculine, yet soaked in a violent high-pitched creaking. The face was made to match; dark colors, blood-shot eyes, a trembling upper lip . . . I had no idea just what might've spawned it, nor did I possess the inclination to make any guesses.
"I don't know who you are. What do you want here?" The panic in my mind was escaping past my lips as my words muttered through the air. My thoughts were on Jennifer. My questions were coming by instinct.
"You don't know who I am?" His voice lowered an octave. "I think that you do."
His expression frightened me more than anything I'd ever seen before. It was a face I could only imagine. One that I had imagined while thinking up only the darkest moments in my stories. A truly sinister sight. Head tilted down, eyes half-closed looking straight through the lenses, a curled lip so twisted it wasn't humanly possible. But he was no human.
"You . . . You're . . . "
"That's right! By George, I think he's got it! I am what you created. I am who you want to be. I am who you dream to be. I am the evil that you wish not to do, yet do. I am the darkness suffocating the light. I am the essence of your being. I am, I am . . . " his voice lowered to a whisper, "you."
"No!" I screamed.
"Yes!" he commanded, dropping Jenn to the ground. I reached for her, but, with a backward kick to the chest, she was sent sliding out of reach. "I am the envisionment of all that you wished for! Your dream come true! A living, breathing edition of the nightmare that you created. The purest of the darkness that dwells withing your very heart. Dark . . . Fallen . . . Fox."
A smile bled through his entire face. "I want you to punch me as hard as you can . . . "
He grappled me before I could think. "Too late, m'boy!" Without warning I found myself flying back into my room, hitting the ground head first, my body flailing in behind. Everything hurt at once, and my thoughts became clouded. Options? I thought. What do I have? Gun case . . . is down the hall. Too far away. Nothing heavy enough to throw. I don't know how to fight.
My ideas were running dry. The creature stood in the doorway with the continual hate-filled stare. My own eyes scanned desperately around my room for anything. I looked toward my bed. My bowie knife was laced through the ladder connecting the two bunks of the bed together. That made my eyes start to trail upward. My sword is still on the top bunk. I never hung it up.
With pain screaming through every pulse of blood to my brain I stood and made an attempt to get to my bed. The creature made no movements. Without hesitation I grabbed the blade and unsheathed it. It felt heavy for the first time in my hands. That's when I heard a laugh.
"And you think that you're going to be able to hit me with that? What do you take me for, an idiot?" the creature stated flatly. "While you're at it, why not just take a swing at me with a stick? The thing's not sharp. You and I both know that."
He was right. The sword was only for show, and I hadn't had the need to sharpen it.
"Here, if we're gonna do this, we're gonna do this right. I'll be right back. Don't you move while I'm gone, you hear?"
I didn't answer. I was frozen by a deafening fear. Every pound that made up my body felt like a ton. I was sweating. Then, I heard the bolt of a gun chamber a cartridge. I tasted bile.
He came back with what my mind was slowly starting to realize. He knew where the gun case was. He knew where the key was. He knew how to operate the weapons. A stock AR-15 rifle rested in its strap on his shoulder. "Now, this is more like it!" The joy and excitement in his voice sickened me, and I started gagging. "Hey now, don't get sick so soon. We've still got one more thing to take care of."
I winced as he walked directly in front of me. He calmly placed the gun in my hands and walked back into the doorway. The weapon shook in my sweating palms. He spread his arms out to the top corners of the door, and did the same at the bottom with his feet. "Okay, I'm ready for it. Shoot me."
I blinked at stared. The gun almost fell from my hands, and I stumbled trying to regain my grip. "C'mon! It's not hard! Just aim and pull the little trigger your finger's resting over!"
Slowly, ever so slowly, I lifted the metal projectile launcher to shoulder level. "Now that's what I'm talking about!" My finger edged onto the trigger. Automatically, I flipped the safety switch to off. "Oh! Wait just a sec. I almost forgot something."
I paused.
"Yeah, about killing me," he sucked in a breath of air through his teeth, "you might not want to do that. See," placing his finger against the edge of the door, he pulled down sharply, cutting his finger open, "you and I are more than just similar in mind." I looked at the finger I had against the trigger. It was bleeding. "We're far more than that. I don't know, I think that might just put a damper on you wanting to shoot me, say, in the face."
My mind was spinning. How? Who? Why? God, what had I done to deserve this? Are you even there? Have you forsaken me? That's why you sent your Son . . . Dear God, must my life end like this? Please, give me the strength. "Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death . . ."
"So, what's it gonna be, Sonny Jim?" the creature asked, expectant.
"Matt!"
Jennifer's voice. She had crawled from the corner to an outstretched position under the creature's feet. "Why are you doing this?!"
I hadn't planned on anyone else seeing. This made things more difficult. "Jennifer. I have to get rid of this abomination. If I let him live, then you and Tera will be hurt. That's something that I can't allow."
"What're you talking about? You're being crazy! Please, put the gun down!"
"No! I have to kill him, otherwise he'll hurt you and Tera!"
"Matt!" she screamed louder. "Who are you talking about?! There's no one here but you and me!"
Inside my mind, something snapped. "Don't you see him?! He's right above you! Look!"
She did. "There's nobody here but you and me! Now put the gun down and stop it this instant!"
A revelation. It had to be. Just like my favorite book. Everything had to be a dream. It was the only thing that made sense. I was dreaming that things were happening just like in the book. That the creature in front of me was just a part of my shattered psyche. I actually had the gun pointed at myself. If I were to pull the trigger, I would kill myself.
That explained the creature, but what of the other two? Had I been dreaming for the past month? I remembered every detail so clearly. They had to be real. What is reality? I questioned. I don't know any more.
"Don't worry Jenn, I've got it all under control now." I consciously took the rifle from my temple and directed it at the abomination in front of me. If I shoot him, he'll go away, just like in the book. It's all just like the book. "'Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of evil. . .'"
"Matt, you can't be doing what I think you're doing! You can't end it like this!"
"'I will fear no evil. . .'"
Will I kill him, or myself? Just what am I imagining? What is real? Is this like the book? If I pull this trigger, will I still be standing? I once again lifted the rifle to my shoulder. I have to be sure, and there's only one way of doing that. Through a tear-filled eye I took aim. My arms were shaking, and I could barely hold the gun steady. "Now that's more like it! I hear the G-man really likes a good self-sacrifice for the good of mankind. Just be sure not to miss-"
Click.
"Matt!"