The Incident at Blackgrove

Chapter 2: The Fox-Man

I settled in for my first night at the Blackgrove Motel. The room I was in smelled a bit musty, but was quite clean otherwise. In comparison, actually, to the other rooms I'd stayed in before that, it was practically immaculate. It wasn't a five-star hotel, but it was definitely a welcome change. The temperature was cool thanks to the functioning AC units. Again, the previous motels lacked this convenience. The sheets were a 70's era design in a burgundy color. They might've been old sheets, but they were well maintained and cleaned, so I didn't mind.

Like I said, not a five-star hotel; still quite nice.

I know it's a little silly, but I tucked my backpack next to me under the sheets. My memories, my family, my friends, my life. All in that little backpack. It was my loyal, inanimate friend. I don't know if it's sad or not that my life could mostly fit into that tiny little backpack, but I chose to look at it maturely. With nothing to tie me down, I could go anywhere.

That night was remarkably quiet. There were some crickets outside, but they were mostly muffled by the walls of my tiny room. I had spent so long shoving my feelings way deep down and ignoring them that in that moment, with nothing but my own mind to keep me company in the dark, I could feel them all coming to the surface. What had I been running from? Or was I running towards something? I couldn't put my finger on it. I'd been running for so long that I'd forgotten why I was running in the first place.

Why was my heart hurting? What was I yearning for? What was causing all of my pain? Was it that I had no one to share my life with, or was it that I had left it all behind and was feeling guilty? It had been a while since I'd had a good cry. That was probably the best night's sleep I'd had in months, to be honest. A deep, tear-soaked, dream-filled sleep full of unanswered, self-psychoanalyzing questions. A chance to feel something, anything, again. What bliss.

---

THE DREAM

Ignoring the quality of the sleep that I got that night for a moment, it's important to discuss what happened while I was sleeping. I had a dream. Had certain things not happened and certain revelations not been revealed, I might not have thought it important.

In the dream, I saw a black void. It was dark, save for one spot. Seemingly lit by a spotlight, a figure stood in this spot, wearing an apron, like a craftsman might wear. He was carrying a few tools in his apron and in front of him was a large crate full of mannequin arms, legs, and other parts that were moving ever so slightly. The mannequin parts leaked blood from their connective points. The aproned figure stared right at me and held his gaze. His head wasn't a human's head.

It was a fox's head, and his eyes were glowing white.

The Fox-Man was humming a jingle of some kind; I couldn't recognize it but it was so familiar and very commercial-sounding. I don't know why, but seeing this Fox-Man made me feel horrible, like something bad was about to happen. What made it worse is that he had this wide, sickening smile on his face and his head was slightly turned. He hummed for a while, staring at me with his terrible smile. Then he ceased his humming and both he and the mannequin parts stopped moving. They remained still for five whole seconds. I was frozen, scared to death. Then the Fox-Man spoke in an unnatural, almost androgynous voice:

"Coming soon."

---

I woke up right after that in a cold sweat. I didn't know why the Fox-Man scared me so. He didn't feel like an evil entity, but he didn't feel good either. He seemed like someone that didn't care about the things he did, only that he be allowed to do them. I felt as if he were a creature, alone in his world, doing his own thing, oblivious to the fact that others are affected by his actions. He reminded me of a kid pouring water down an ant hill.