All I wanted was a glass of water nosleep

Late this past night I awoke to a heavy downpour. I went to close my bedroom window -- for water was splattering into my room and onto my face -- and felt that my throat was dry. Stroking it, I made my way through the dark hallway. I noticed a pair of yellow eyes staring straight in my direction. It was Manny, my sister's cat. She never slept at night, only in the mornings.

I went into the kitchen and approached the refrigerator. As I began to open it, I saw a strange silhouette in the reflection of the refrigerator's surface panel. It took the form of a tree with branches spread out like the wings of an angel. And yet, though it took the form of an angel, there seemed to be something so utterly sinister in its manner, that I wanted to jump out of my own skin. The silhouette flickered, and I happened to catch the glance of two yellow eyes staring at me from beneath the kitchen table. I froze, and for a moment could not move. I tried looking towards the figure but found that my head seemed to have disappeared into my neck, sunk deep into my belly, and wrapped itself around with my intestines.

This was all the happenings of a moment or two, for after a few blinks the figure was no more. I shrugged it off as one would after mistaking a stick for a snake, fished out a bottle, and drank the water. I could feel the water making its way through my barren throat, and felt it swish its way down, down, down.

I let out a breath of air in realization, and indeed relief, that the yellow eyes belonged to Manny. The chilly atmosphere must have clouded my sense of judgement; the rainfall covered the sound of Manny making her way into the kitchen.

I reached down to put the bottle back in place, and when I stood back up, the figure was back again. Only this time, the branches, in their original angelic formation, seemed to have rotated ninety degrees, and were pointing right in my direction. I jumped back. The darkness reached out for me. I felt the tips of the branches against the hairs on my back. I turned around, slowly, and came to face the figure. My eyes locked with a pair of bright yellow eyes which seemed to beckon me in their direction. The branches crept up and closed around me as if in a loving embrace, but years of watching B horror films had convinced me that this was not the case.

As the branches pulled me closer towards the figure, I reached a hand out for the knife that lay beside the stove. The knife was nowhere to be found. The figure was pulling me towards itself, closer, closer. My legs were slipping, my hand still fumbling, searching for the knife. I heard something like a lick coming from the figure, followed by a full, slobbering slurp. My body was shaking; my fingers reaching out, searching for something, anything. And just then my fingers got hold of the handle of the knife, and in one swift push I drove it into the belly of the beast.

The sounds which followed I can offer no description for. There was nothing angelic about it. It was a demon, I am sure of it. I do not remember how I escaped from the figure's clutches, but here I am now in my sister's apartment, writing this piece with trembling fingers, with Manny purring softly near the fireplace. I cannot go back to that place. It was no nightmare, for there are scars on my back. But I do not know if those scars are real. It was no dream, no figment of my imagination; no terrible suppressed childhood memories manifesting themselves in this horrific form. No. Or maybe it was, maybe I really did come into contact with this branched thing. I do not know.

I seem to have attracted this thing into my life; branches of trees seemed to have rustled and moved just that little bit of an infinitesimal distance as I walked the streets this morning. I do not know how this upcoming night will play out. I must do my best to pass through it alive. All I wanted was a glass of water, and I paid for it with a portion of my own sanity.

Submitted June 22, 2016 at 03:08AM by childrenofkingsman http://ift.tt/28Lfukp nosleep