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( Part 1 )

An ethereal curtain of shadow contested the leaking moonlight spilling in from my sliding glass door. The air bit coldly at my fingers and toes as I nestled into the living room couch's upright cushions. My back sank into the fabric, unable to secure enough warmth, despite my best efforts. The fireplace was stagnant, radiating nothing but the stillness of the charred bricks. This was the only room my grandparents could offer me. My brothers and parents took up the guest rooms down the hallway, and I'd pulled a stupid, telling them I didn't care which room I got . . . Now here I was. There wasn't a single breath of wind outside. Not even one oak-leaf inched back and forth, leaving the frigid, nighted air unspeakably quiet.

I pulled a scratchy blanket over my neck, blasting decibels of sound throughout the brown-painted room with nothing but vague bodily motions. Every time I moved, the contrasting silence startled me, making my eyes narrow at the eerie sensation. I wanted to get up, just to alleviate the tension building in my chest, but just a few creaks of the wooden floorboards beneath my feet would've roused my family awake. My uncle —an extremely heavy sleeper— slumbered in the extra living room behind my current bedding spot. With that thought in the back of my mind, I suddenly realized something was slightly off. A faint, steady snoring should've been droning on in the background, at least enough for me to hear in a piercing silence of this magnitude. Uncle Brent was also somewhat of a giant, which meant I would've heard him if he got up.

Knowing him, he was either asleep like a boulder, or he'd gotten up. Those were the only likelihoods circumstance had to offer . . . which was why my heart began to thrum faster. Unlike my uncle, I was an unbelievably light sleeper. This absence of all noise was supposed to soothe a person like me. I didn't understand. Why was it all so eerie? When I noticed the persistent ringing in my ears, I heard it creep closer, growing to ridiculous proportions. Damnit. Now that pesky sound was all I could hear. Dusty books sat in rows atop the fireplace, just below a curved, dark-oaken beam. This room used to be where my crib was as a baby. Faded memories of our black cat Kimba swam through my head, temporarily easing my worries. He'd often check on me when I started crying, hopping inside and cuddling against my legs before my mother would pad in through the door.

With that heartfelt memory, my eyes finally weighed down, slowly lulled into dreams by my warm reverie. The curtain of my eyelids descended, finally pursuing sleep. Entering my tired state, I would've liked to feel myself completely submerged by slumber, but the moment my eyelids closed, I noticed the darkness had not descended over me. A breeze tickled my hips, causing me to look down. With a muddled glance, I flinched, suddenly seeing that I was naked. It almost felt as though I hadn't worn any clothes to begin with. Confusion joined in as I scanned around, searching for my covers. My skin felt sensitive, exposed to the room's chilling bite. I tested my vision, tightly clenching my eyes shut. Nothing changed, and I could still see what few objects faintly glistened under the moonlight's smiling crescent, no matter how fiercely my eyelids flexed down.

It didn't matter where I faced, or how. My eyelids were no more than phantoms. Every detail remained fixed in place, startling me with each time I felt myself blink. It was a challenge to make myself laugh, even nervously. 'Is this how snakes feel?' I wondered randomly, trying to appease my rattled nerves. Even to me, my humor was about as stimulating as the empty fireplace. Despite my discomfort, I pushed off the cushions, rotating myself until my feet met the ivy carpet. Only then, was I able to gauge just how heavy the air was. My whole body had to catch up with the sensation, feeling its thick, increasing density, like I was struggling against a deep, underwater pressure. The shadows wavered in front of me, throwing off the balance of lunar light and darkness. In my stupor to lean up, I could feel the air condensing around me, to the point I was swimming within an invisible mud.

Only my eyes could move, rapidly shifting as I sat there, confused as a cold sweat took my bare body, head to toe. Like it were second nature, I didn't merely sense a presence. I knew, irrefutably, that someone was there with me, shrouded by the ever-enclosing ring of darkness shrinking around me, as if the unsettling narrative itself were nailed into my brain. Objects began to swallow into the pitch-blackness, starting with the clunky television, then spreading along books and ivy-green carpet. Looking right, I caught sight of the only visible spectacle, starkly contrasting against the creeping void. The sliding glass door remained closed, with its stupidly sharp metal handle thankfully locked. My heart boomed as my pupils stopped at the sight of two narrowing blue dots. Blinking uselessly with invisible eyelids, I could only stare in a state of seizing shock. What were those? Could those be . . . no. No, no.

I expected them to move, leaving me wondering if it was merely a trick of the light. They emanated a piercingly vivid azure glow, more-so than what should've been possible. My heart practically hammered against my chest as my pupils studied the bodiless presence. Its motionless orbs didn't budge, casting an ocular glow that barely illuminated a pair of grayish protrusions spreading above itself into a taper. 'The things above them. Are those . . . horns?' I squeaked through internal whispers, barely managing to echo the words in my thoughts. Even my internal monologue was being suppressed; drowned beneath a rushing fear as I dreaded an unnerving question . . . When will it blink? Will it . . . at all, or ever? Just blink, damnit! This couldn't actually be happening! I could always save myself from bad dreams, especially whenever I chose to freak out, which got my adrenaline pumping. That always woke me up without fail.

But this . . . No. Not this. I was certain this was no dream. Because it didn't care how fast my heart was racing, or how terrified I felt. Overall, it refused to let me wake. The circle of shadows crept progressively slower the more it shrank closer to my unmoving toes, as if teasing me; savoring my boundless fear. Yet the eyes burrowing into my soul didn't move a centimeter. I could feel those orbs, like lasers buzzing through me, hurling my stomach into a panic. The circumstances might've been more awkward than chilling, if I weren't totally petrified, desperately commanding my limbs to move, but to no avail. I sat there motionless, slumped and frozen, arms resting limply at my sides. All-the-while, my situation's reality suffocated me, forcing my trembling pupils to watch as the creature's spectral eyes finally fluttered.

I hadn't noticed just how much its gaze lit up my naked features until its eyes flitted down. The dim, ocular glow roughly imitated a flickering lantern as it blinked at something lower down, tinting my flesh in a sky-blue light. My vision focused, concentrating enough to spot a modicum of movement at its head. I blinked, expecting my eyelids to do nothing, but I finally saw that split-second curtain descend and lift. Just like that, the beastly glare vanished, leaving a starless abyss outside. There was no moon either, nor any celestial bodies between the vast backyard's branching oaks. The specter's absence left me with a lingering tension; a widening pit filling out my chest and belly. I should've felt safe. 'I mean, that terrible monster was gone . . . right?' My subconscious debated me, sending a subtle buzz of fear down my limbs. Something about that thought felt off, especially as I realized the lack of ringing in my ears.

Sure, there was silence, but the low-pitched lack of a deafening variety made my unmoving body shiver. The hair rose along the back of my neck and arms, sending prickles of fear down my spine. The entity's scarce features were out of sight . . . but then, why was my heart sprinting rampant? That inquiry hung over my head as I felt my right shoulder push forward, shuffling the fabric behind me. I gasped, my pounding pulse skipping a beat. A barely detectable dimness entered at the left of my peripheral sight. Shadows parted weakly at the cushions, gradually displaced by a faint blue light. The goosebumps on my skin spiked as I felt a serpentine muscle slink downwards, wriggling between my shoulderblades and the couch's pillow. I couldn't turn my head, only straining myself as the serpentine mass slithered fluidly around my waist.

Only now, with adrenaline coursing through me, could I finally force out a single word. "S-stop . . ." I barely managed a rasp. My plea was cut off by the appendage tightening against my waist. The writhing tip met back around my spine, pulling taut over my lower body. It pressed slightly upwards as it pulled, squeezing a mild gasp from my lungs. That's when a harrowing speculation dawned on me, stretching my eyes wide. 'Oh God . . . is this a large snake?' I thought, the idea sending a wave of shock through my face. Despite my immense fear, I was still paralyzed, unable to move from my spot as another pressure occupied the peripheral vision at my left. I felt the cushion bend inwards below me, as if a strong hand or leg were resting all of its weight into the fabric. Icy blood rushed rapidly through my body as I strained my eyes to glance at the presence beside me.

The dim glow hugged around the contours of tiny individual scales, each smoothed out into the sleek outline of an almost doglike snout, or something like that crossed between a serpent. 'Oh no . . . uncle didn't buy a snake, did he? Fuck!' I thought in terror. I could only see its muzzle for a second, giving me barely any time to define the invader's features. Moisture welled up at my eyes as a fat forked tongue poked from its enclosed maw. The swift black muscle caught a glint of what I presumed was ocular blue light. Safely assuming it wasn't moonlight behind me, I shivered, both freezing and panicked as I felt a wet lash barely graze my neck. At least I hadn't drank any water before bed, because if I had, it would be soaking the couch that very moment. My entire body was nothing but a drum to be played by my pounding heart. Even my vision pulsed with primal fear as a single tear finally gave way down my cheeks

.

My limbs inched at my sides, bobbing slightly with every dangerously potent heartbeat. Aside from myself and the vaguely seen presence, I noticed all that'd been visible before was simply gone, even as the cushions beneath me bled into an inky blackness, leaving me in the middle of an abyss. Still unable to budge, a creeping, steady noise like distant steam trailed into my ears, gradually suffusing into a 'hhhiiiiiisss'. It startled me, seizing my limbs into a deep, purely mental flinch. That raw horror struck so abruptly, it zapped a bolt of palpable pain through me, as if fear itself had struck my nerves. The snakelike appendage fastened harder, its mass shifting with a tightening, leftward twist. Its pressure rode up under my ribcage, and into my lungs, squeezing out an unwilling sigh I hadn't permitted. As the constricting muscles coiled into me, I felt my ribs bend upwards under pressure.

A weighted aura of dread inundated the air, overwhelming me with heaviness as my ribcage awkwardly shifted. The slithering muscle became thicker around me, gaining more coverage as it pressed inwards, siphoning my breath like a deflating balloon. My ribcage bent all too easily beneath its grasp, threatening to give way, until I genuinely anticipated a loud 'crack'. Helpless and alone, and with an unsettling lack of air, I knew this was the end. So I couldn't help myself . . . For the first time in forever, I prayed. It was brief, but simple; a small, silent prayer in my mind, simply hoping to God my feeble frame wouldn't snap, and that the offending beast would somehow release me. Instead, my pleas fell on flooding darkness as I heard a noise at my left, as well as behind me. Confused, my ears detected the airy sound of two leathery thick tarps —possibly blankets— unfolding out of sight.

A current of dusty wind billowed my brown hair backwards, distracting me until an explosive jolt of energy took me by surprise. In but a quarter-second, a fierce strike crushed my head like a hulking vice. In a lunge of blurred, illuminant blue motion, the shadow had me. Only then did an agonizing series of deafening 'cracks' snap through me, filling my world with pain. I tried to scream, knowing even if I could, my face was still muffled either way. I'd never felt such extraordinary pain, as waves of shock renewed themselves one after another through my torso with each finalizing, deadly 'snap'. As various sickening 'pops' crackled through my body, a dark, demoralizing thought crossed my mind: even if I could give fate the middle finger by escaping this terror . . . at this rate, I'd still end up a vegetable. I'd be no more than a broken man, both mentally and literally.

At this point, I preferred death. My salty tears only served to season my gasping features as I felt the creature's head slowly rotate in one direction, taking my neck's position along with it. My eyes widened into dinnerplates as the sinking realization of what it was doing dawned on me. I morbidly recalled the vaguely similar techniques of a chiropractor; the distinct way they position your head as one lies down limply, before . . .

'KRRULLNNCHKT!'

A fleeting flash of white blipped across the vacant void. My vision spun 180°, now facing what should've been the wall. I stared in shock, numbly without sensation, beholding the barely visible, obscured outline of an animal's hind-legs perched atop the couch's base. I didn't even notice at what point the creature's jaw unclenched, leaving me to fall limply at the couch's left side. After all that predatory effort, it didn't even have the decency to unhinge its jaws and finish me off. My rotated head clunked side-first into the couch's arm, body rendered a twisted pile of tenderly bruised flesh and broken bones, before catching the iron taste of blood in my throat. On the way down, I spotted a glimpse of the monster's form as it padded soundlessly out of my peripheral sight. Its silhouette stood out against the brown wall, a pair of spectral irises casting me in azure light as it padded away, like a beast on all fours. At last, I saw nothing, eyes blinded by the couch's smothering fabric.

I expected to die or wake up, but my agony persisted for a while longer, until the blood pooled in my throat, drained into my windpipe, and slowly began to drown me. The cruel suffocation grew towards an impending, final doom. All-the-while, my tormented thoughts raced with fear, yet flickering with tiny embers of hatred for my killer. 'Is my family going to find me dead on the couch . . . exactly like this?' I thought, terrified at the prospect. When nothingness finally descended upon my fading consciousness, a warm bright light blinded my vision. Unlike before, I abruptly heard the white noise of faraway vehicles and distant subtle wind mixing together. The brightness intensified just as my eyes peeled open. A scrub-jay crowed, flapping down and landing at the pebbly floor of our backyard entrance. Hopping about, it foraged behind the sliding glass door, head tilting in search of hiding spiders. Trembling, I remained seated on the couch, eyes gaping wide as I stared in frozen shock. Unlike seconds ago, I was fully clothed in my loosely-fitting black pajamas, breathing heavily as cold sweat and tears trickled down my neck.

Every inhale and exhale drummed with a series of pounding heartbeats. I could move now, though simply decided not to, on account of sheer numbness. Speechlessly testing my fingers with a preliminary flex, I leaned up, keeping my eyes on the sliding glass door and couch. I slowly stepped backwards, elbows bumping lightly against the living room's entrance. That malevolent hell-spawn could've been hiding anywhere. I recalled having nightmares before, whereas I'd woken up, only to be attacked out of the blue while believing I was awake. These were rare, but still managed to leave a cynical impression on me regarding dreams. As darkness faded outside, cold morning air began to warm with the rising sun, thawing out the icy grass into sparkling dewdrops. I was slowly waking up, rubbing the sleep from my eyes before reaching down and twisting the brass doorknob behind me.

Despite having awoken already, I urged my eyes to scan the indoor lounge, carefully backing away past the threshold, and into the antiquated dining room. My ears zoomed in on the muffled white noise outside, refocusing on the scrapes of gently swaying oaks. I quickly closed the door, accidentally slamming it too loudly. My shoulders tightened as I winced at the reverberating walls. 'Damnit, jerk!' I thought, scolding myself, likely for waking half my family up. I mean, sure, at least somebody would be awake, and I wouldn't feel too unsafe. Polished tables and chairs stood patiently behind me, while to my left, golden rays shone through the window, lighting up a comparably mediocre kitchen. To my right, that damn hallway I'd always feared as a child gloomed a despondent aura, shrouded partially by darkness near its end where the bathroom waited. Nature called, but I was still shaken, taking my sweet time padding down the hall.

Thank God, my bladder was full . . . despite all that'd happened. After taking a nice long piss, I headed back out as quickly as possible, retreating into the second living room where my uncle was resting. With it being 6:22 AM, I assumed he was probably still in limbo; not fully awake or asleep, tossing and turning groggily. My legs were trembling the entire time I had to urinate, and they continued to unnerve me as I pushed past a broad threshold of wooden bifold doors, leading into our second living room.

The fabric couches on either side were a fancy scarlet hue, with black carpet underneath, and a lengthy media-console supporting a flatscreen television opposite from the entrance. Potted white orchids adorned each side of the TV, and a plain beige sofa stood directly in front of it. The couch's base faced me, so I had to walk closer in order to see my uncle nestled quietly into the cushions.

An unreasonable paranoia grew inside my chest as I took a closer look, checking to see if his torso was still inching up and down. A weighty sense of unease lingered on as I waited for his chest to rise or fall. Only when I saw a modicum of movement did my own breathing resume. I reached over, extending my index and tapping his shoulder. "Uncle Brent?" I whispered, increasing my volume as I persisted. "Hey, Uncle Brent, wake up!" I spoke in a louder hush.

His eyelids lifted slowly, barely awake. "I was almost asleep." He grumbled passively, rolling over like a stone pillar. "What's up?" Uncle's eyes closed, though I knew he wasn't falling asleep.

"Im not sure. Something feels off in this house." I answered, avoiding any mention of my hyperrealistic nightmare —which might I add, nobody would believe if I summarized.

Uncle Brent leaned up, propping himself at fifty degrees. "What, you think it's haunted?" He asked outright, somewhat startling me with the question.

"I . . . yeah." I said, arching my brow into a question. "How'd you guess?"

Uncle Brent sighed, rubbing the sleep from his dark-blue eyes. "I've lived here my whole life, Dev. It's haunted as fuck. Mom has night-terrors every other night. When it isn't crap flying off the shelves, then it's just her screaming in her sleep" He raised his hands emphatically, voicing an impression. "'help, help! It's gonna eat me! Somebody help me!', like she's being murdered." His attitude came off nonchalantly, as if this were the most regular thing in the world.

My mouth hung ajar, puzzled at his carefree tone. "You guys never told me grandma had night-terrors." I frowned with concern. "Is she alright?" I asked, feeling my body run cold.

"Your grandmother's fine. She never remembers what happened, so we always have a good laugh about it. It's kind of a good thing she doesn't. I know I wouldn't wanna remember getting chased around by a murdery beast." He mentioned, perking my attention.

I stared blankly, feeling a sinking pit in my chest. "How do you know it's a beast?" I questioned, growing nervous.

"She screams at 3AM a lot. Sometimes me and your aunt will hear something like 'help, it's biting me', or 'it can fly, get the broom!' To be honest, we stopped caring after the fifth time." He shrugged sleepily, before flopping a pillow over and pressing it to his face. Uncle's body turned sluggishly, exuding the typical nuances of a non-morning person. Knowing him, it was nothing personal, but he was definitely done talking for now.

Later that morning, grandma Marcia was up and ready, already humming a tune in the kitchen, flipping bacon and omelets by the time I'd returned from another bathroom trip.

We shared a few genetic traits that certainly skipped my mother's generation: We were both early-birds, and had a penchant for morbid humor, empathic intuition, and especially extra spicy food. A bottle of Tapatio stood next to a siphoned half-gallon of Tobasco; both of our favorites. I nearly salivated at the ounces upon ounces of bottled capsaicin, briefly distracted from my recent terrors. My legs and stomach were the ones in control, taking me over to the kitchen counter. Once at the sink, I took a glance outside, peering from the window, eyes stopping on a western fence lizard, who was happily basking in the sun, eyes closed in relaxation. The cute sight contrasted against the image of dark scales violently flashing through my mind, accompanied by the sound of my neck snapping. The taste of my own blood faintly tinctured my tongue with the memory of that nightmare. My grandmother caught me staring out the window for longer than normal.

Her voice made me jump, snapping me from my terrible daydreams. "You look like you're worried about something." Her spatula flipped the omelette as she multitasked on several things at once. "Did you sleep alright?" She asked, effectively honing in on the issue.

I would've stuttered if I hadn't paused first, keeping my voice steady. "Not . . . really." I replied, straining my brain for a way to describe the harrowing dream. "I'm scared of falling asleep next time." I said, pushing out the words. That sentence seemed to catch her attention, making her pause, leaving the bacon and omelette sizzling for a tad too long.

"I see. Was it a nightmare?" She asked. I could almost feel the morning joy leaving her voice. At the first sign of smoke, she quickly scooped up the breakfast, setting portions aside on separate plates for each of us.

Worried, I tilted my head slightly, eyes narrowing pensively. "Yeah, it was. Did you have any?" I asked back, genuinely curious.

"Not that I can remember. Your uncle said I was screaming bloody murder last night though. But this old noggin just doesn't remember anything." She gave a light, somewhat humorous smile, handing over my breakfast.

"Wait . . . last night?" I asked, taken aback. "So uncle heard you, but I didn't?" I questioned, pointing towards myself.

She nodded. "Mhm, ask your mother. Poor dear was sleeping in the guest room, right across from my door. Scared the pants off her." She said with a mirthful smile, somewhat amused with herself before briefly chuckling. "I feel bad about waking your mom up, but I can't stop laughing about it either. This is what happens when you forget to pray to Jesus." She joked, cheering me up a bit.

Later, I offered to clean up the mess, squaring plates and silverware away into the dishwasher. At a certain point, I left the water running longer than I should've, glaring out the window and into the Irish-themed backyard. There were several statuettes of fairies, next to a variety of wooden crucifixes hanging along the fence; paraphernalia from when grandma used to be a devout Catholic. I wondered . . . could holding a wooden "t" symbol help in my current situation? Or did that require faith? —Assuming last night's visitor was even a demon, or that I wouldn't be too paralyzed to hold up a cross. Just what was I supposed to do if last night repeated itself? Drink holy water? Holy-piss myself once the creature came crawling over me again? Or maybe consecrated cold-sweat would be enough to burn it. For a second, I actually considered it. Overall, for now, I had no other plans for this situation whatsoever, wracking my brain into a spiral of dread and fear. I couldn't stop hearing the mental echo of dull, inner 'cracks' snapping inside my head; the slow, visceral crunches of my ribcage breaking like brittle tree branches. I remembered the heavy, iron taste of blood in my throat, shaking my head in attempts to push the memory back down.

(End Of Part 1)