Poetic Magnetism nosleep

“when chocolate smells bitter

can a languid goddess

swim on some elaborate music”

I still remember seeing that masterpiece on our refrigerator nine months ago. Kayla might have left it for me to read on purpose, but we'd been so busy getting ready to move in together that she may have simply arranged the word magnets for her own sake and forgot to change them before my arrival. I'd been to her condo before and even left a magnetic message myself, but as I set down the first box in the kitchen, I smiled at the subtle optimism in her poem.

When we first met, Kayla wasn't smiling much. She had just been through... well, her last serious relationship had ended not long before, and she wasn't in a good place. I suppose you could say that literally, at least from my perspective: she was still living in the condo that she and her previous boyfriend had shared. It's the same condo I moved into with her. That may sound strange, but my perspective on it has evolved. When we first met, it seemed like she was still holding on to the past too much. But now I see that Graham had a special connection with Kayla that probably won't ever go away, and I've made peace with that.

I should clarify; Graham... well, he passed away. He and Kayla were pretty serious, annoyingly happy (so I'm told), and making plans for the future, so his death came as quite a shock. Despite what happened, Kayla didn't talk about Graham that much after I moved in, though I knew the condo held memories of him. He even gave her that magnetic poetry set.

That's why I was a bit surprised when two nights ago, as we snuggled on the couch after dinner, Kayla commented, “You know, Saturday will be four years to the day since Graham died.”

I paused in stroking her hair and looked down at those coffee-colored eyes, staring at some unknown space behind the front door. “Really?”

“Yeah,” she replied softly. “I was playing with the magnets tonight and it hit me. The night they found him, someone said there was a creepy message on the fridge, but I never saw it. He was always more creative with them anyway. It's just... hard to believe that was so long ago now.”

“Yeah...” I'll admit part of me was curious to hear more, as this was the most she'd ever shared about what happened that day, but I didn't want to press her. And, well... I suppose I should stop being so cryptic.

Graham committed suicide. A friend found his body in the condo. I never really heard details as to how exactly he died, and I guess it's not really important. Again, I know it might seem morbid for Kayla to keep living there, but you have to know her. She has kind of melancholy personality. Unlike Graham, who people said was the life of the party and knew how to make Kayla laugh better than anyone. Kayla refused to accept that he took his own life for months after it happened.

I don't remember much else from our conversation, but as Kayla got ready for bed upstairs, I paused by the refrigerator before turning off all the lights downstairs.

“time smoothed delirious screams

into sweet chocolate symphonies”

I smiled again. How did I get so lucky.

The next morning, I went downstairs to make coffee. Still a bit bleary-eyed, I mechanically followed my normal routine of placing a filter, getting grounds from the freezer, fetching six scoops, filling seven cups of water, and pressing the “on” button. As I listened to the machine slowly come to life, I went back to the fridge for some milk. And that's when I noticed the magnets.

“crush us red some elaborate death

we eat raw eggs

yet our urge”

That was... odd. Even for Kayla, this was pretty dark. And raw eggs? I was rather confused.

But then I remembered... Kayla was still waking up in our bedroom. (I heard her alarm after the third scoop.) When could she have changed the poem? She was a pretty hard sleeper, so she rarely got up during the night.

I heard slow footsteps coming down the stairs. “Sweetheart?” No response, but a pause in the steps. “Did you change the magnets?”

“No, why?”

“I just don't remember this poem from last night, and it seems kind of... weird.” The only answer was more footsteps in the opposite direction. That didn't surprise me; Kayla is the exact opposite of a morning person. Terse conversations at this hour were not unusual, and with all the laundry still unfolded on the couch, she was probably just coming down for some clothes. She probably wouldn't talk more until the gurgling machine to my left finished its magic.

Sure enough, Kayla became pretty chatty once she received her morning quota of coffee. She didn't mention the poetry again (though I thought I saw her give it a strange look when getting out the cereal), but we were both in a bit of a hurry to get out the door and get to work. I wanted to arrive a bit early so I could also leave early, since I was getting together with an old buddy of mine. Kayla saw me off with a kiss and teased me about not having too much fun on “guys' night”.

The evening was indeed pretty low-key compared to our college days, but we still had a good time. I ended up staying out later than I meant to, but Kayla knew that was a possibility and would be fine going to bed by herself this one night. Sure enough, all of the lights upstairs were off when I came in, and I tiptoed into the kitchen for a glass of water before turning in.

And once again, I noticed the magnets...

“my moaning music

languid cry here

away language still screams whispering death ads”

What was up with these disturbing notes? After our conversation the other night, I'd felt like Kayla was finally starting to let go the past some... you could almost see those ties to Graham loosening as she spoke. But these poems didn't seem like a calm, healthy way to work through any difficult emotions she might still be harboring. I'd honestly forgotten we even had a “death” magnet. Part of me wanted to wake her up and ask about it, but I figured we'd just talk in the morning.

I knew my way around without many lights on, so I got ready for bed without disturbing Kayla and quietly slid under the covers on my side. I felt some stirring next to me and heard a soft moan, but then silence. As usual, she didn't wake up. Exhausted from the day, I quickly joined her in dreamland.

The next morning, I woke up unusually early for a Saturday, and for some reason felt really awake, though my eyes were still tired. It was still pretty dark in the room, thanks to our thick curtains, so without disturbing the bundle of blankets next to me, I slipped downstairs to get some coffee going.

While once again waiting on my morning brew, I stared at the magnets. I wanted to be sensitive to Kayla, but these poems were really starting to bother me. The latest use of “languid” concerned me in particular, since Kayla often used that term to describe the months after Graham's death. Perhaps there was still more mourning in store... and that's when I remembered it was the four-year anniversary of his suicide, and mentally berated myself a bit: of course Kayla would need to mourn today.

I heard footsteps slowly descending. I didn't expect Kayla to be awake so early, but I'm sure she'd heard the coffee maker and would want some of her own. I thought about what I might say to her. Nothing about Graham first thing, especially before coffee; there would be time for that later. But I wanted to make an extra effort to tell her how much I loved her.

My train of thought was interrupted by my phone buzzing on the counter; I glanced over to see who was calling at this hour.

It was Kayla.

For a few seconds, I simply stared at the phone as it kept ringing. I said earlier I'd felt really awake, but honestly I was still a bit foggy. I tried to reconcile what I was seeing with what else I knew about the morning so far. Thinking back on it now, I think my heart began to beat a little faster as I finally snapped out of my stupor and answered the phone.

“Hello?”

“Hey honey, did I wake you up?”

“Kayla...?” Footsteps going back upstairs. “Um, no, I was just getting coffee...” Even faster heartbeat.

“OK, good. I don't have much time but things have been crazy and they wanted me to stay for another shift. I'm so sorry I didn't message you earlier but it's just been so hectic... I thought about just texting this morning, but I kind of wanted to hear your voice.” Throat getting dry. “You go ahead and enjoy your coffee and we'll catch up later, OK?”

“Um, OK, sounds good...”

“Alrighty, you're the best. I love you!”

“Love you too...” Silence.

Too much silence. The coffee maker had finished, the footsteps had disappeared, and I couldn't really hear much of anything. An eerie hush had fallen over the condo, as though even the furniture was somehow holding its breath. I was staring at the open end of the kitchen, wondering if something was about to appear from around the corner.

For a little while, I did nothing but stare. Without any sense of exhale in the atmosphere, I finally started thinking through my options. Spying those “whispering death ads” out of the corner of my eye, I knew I had to get out of the house. I noticed some flip-flops by the front door, and I'd simply dropped my computer bag there as well when I came in the night before. Fortunately, I had thrown on some clothes when I came downstairs.

I ran. Grabbed the flip-flops, my keys, my laptop, and ran out the door. I didn't even put the sandals on until I was outside. I don't actually remember even locking the door. I didn't dare turn around as I made my escape. I simply had to get out of there as quickly as possible.

Which is how I ended up at Starbucks, trying to type this story despite my hands still shaking.

I almost posted right then, but after sipping some tea (I figured espresso wasn't a good idea given my state), I started to calm down and think a little more clearly. I do have a pretty active imagination; that's part of what led me to minor in writing at college. It's also possible I simply remembered certain events incorrectly. I certainly didn't sleep that great, and I'm sure we've all had times where we confuse dreams and reality a bit. I'm sure the “messages” I saw have a simple explanation.

I'd actually sent some of them to a friend during my initial panic, and he'd replied something about the first letter of each word in the first message spelling out something else... I didn't actually read all that he wrote, I just saw a notification on my phone. At the time, I was too busy typing, but now I figured he was trying to mess with me, considering the slightly hysterical nature of my note to him. Also, I glanced back up at the second message and didn't see any pattern in those first letters.

Instead of analyzing some wild fantasy further, I called Kayla. I knew she was busy, but part of me still just wanted to hear her voice. She always knows how to calm me down when I get carried away. Our conversation was brief, but reassuring. She seemed to be in a good mood in spite of the day and having to pull an all-nighter. I didn't actually get into details about all of my magnetic mirages, but she did comment that I sounded tired and should probably get some rest.

She was right. I went back home. I'll admit, after unlocking the front door, I pushed it open very slowly... The calming effect of the tea had started to wear off as I peered around the edge of the door. I could hear a low hum from the refrigerator and our living room clock ticking away. As I scanned the stairs and bedroom door, everything appeared disgustingly normal. I felt a flush spread over my face as I remembered how frantically I'd bolted out that same door an hour earlier. Still, I wasn't thrilled about being alone, so I turned on the TV for some background noise.

The Saturday TV line-up is just never that great. I opted for Netflix and started a familiar sitcom. After parking my computer bag in its usual spot by the couch and kicking off my sandals, I almost absentmindedly went into the kitchen for a snack.

And I froze.

The magnets.

How could...? I swear they had changed.

“shadows who go run

deathly to you

blood urge a need”

No. No one could have possibly been home... but this was definitely not the message I'd seen earlier. Right? Except that's crazy... my pulse started to race, but knew I had to listen to that tea-inspired voice of reason still somewhere in the back of my mind. There's a simple explanation for this. Although I did scan the first letter of each word to be sure. Nothing there... perhaps different letters? I sincerely hope this is the last of the messages...

Snack. I was coming in here for a snack. I need food, maybe I'm just more tired than I realized and getting delirious. But why would I or Kayla have put up those lines about shadows, death, and blood? I don't want to think about shadows running or blood urges. Who comes up with that? There had to be some sort of meaning behind it... no, I have to stop. I need to eat. Maybe I need a drink. I should just relax and watch some TV.

TV... I turned on the TV when I came in, right? I was sure I did... but I don't hear any sound from the living room. Wait, not even the clock. I don't hear... anything. I can't even hear traffic outside... or that bird from earlier... no wind...

All I hear is the sound of keys rattling under my hands, once again shaking, and the crescendo of my suddenly labored breathing. Wait, is my whole body shaking? This is ridiculous. I need to get a grip. I'll be fine, it's just quiet. Too quiet. I only hear keys and panting and...

Wait, is that... no, no stop. Get a grip. My imagination is getting the better of me again. No shadows are running. Forget the magnets. Listen, only keys and breathing. Breathe. Breathe.

Wow, OK. Sorry for getting carried away again. I'm fine, really. For a moment, I actually thought I heard footsteps again, but that just can't be. Maybe I should go upstairs and take a nap...

Submitted April 13, 2016 at 09:58PM by theharmonyguy http://ift.tt/1VplR2P nosleep