Levi Rem in: A Sculptors Nightmare

Chapter 1: Smile

A sudden jolt of fear is the shock that brings the heart of horror to life. It's not hard to imagine that the earliest men that walked the earth gathered around a campfire. The flames throwing shadows that danced across the foliage around them, everyone slowly edging closer together, lingering on the storyteller's every word before, out of nowhere, a friend jumps out and says "boo". Everyone jumps and everyone laughs. But some shocks can be traumatizing, they can change your world, or end it.

I think it's the oldest pastime. To give up some control, let down those walls, to be vulnerable in a safe place. To suspend your disbelief and share in a common feeling, fear. Fear lives in the unknown. In the dark. In the depths. The fear of not knowing can be more scary than anything that lurks in the dark.

The sudden sparks of terror are frightening but they're just a doorway into true horror. Because true horror isn't a flash, or a bang. It's the atmosphere, the ongoing feeling of uneasiness. It puts you on edge, unnerves you, unsettles you, to the point that everything scares you. It stops your heart from beating.

It's the epitome of the unknown. Of the darkness. It's a shadow barely caught out of the corner of your eye. A rhythmic knock on the floor in the next room. That feeling that someone, or something, is watching you. You can't see it, so you can't explain it away. That's true horror. That's why when you turn the kitchen light off before heading to bed, and the darkness engulfs the room and hides every nook away, you freeze for a second.

But sometimes what stalks in the dark comes out into the light, and you wish so badly that it had stayed hidden.

Once upon a time one man learned this lesson hard, a man by the name of Levi Rem. A sculptor. Or he wanted to be, at least. His day job could have been anything. A janitor, a PE teacher, a fast food cook, the guy that collects the shopping carts in the parking lot of a monsterous grocery store. The only consistency was that it didn't matter. His heart was a marble sculpture.

He didn't get the chance to sculpt often, it's an expensive art to pursue, so he wasn't that good at it, he held no fantasies that he was. But the passion was there, the heart. It was like his hands were made to hold a hammer and chisel. Everything else in between was just that, a liminal space. The place he had to pass through to get to the next time he could sculpt. Or try to.

There was nothing and with a loud gasp for air, the world came to be. The sunlight was bright. Blinding. The feeling of the benches wooden strips lingered on Levi's back even after sitting up. Trying to catch his breath. His legs stretched out across the bench. His jeans dirty, well worn, well loved. Matching his sneakers.

Levi blinked. Rubbed his eyes. They began to adjust. He realized he was laying on a bench, in some back alley. The grey buildings surrounding him like hungry wolves. The couple of green dumpsters stood out against the backdrop like flowers against the woods. He was confused. He felt drugged, or drunk, or both.

Deep down, he was afraid. Waking up is always jarring, let alone in an unfamiliar place. He tried to stand up. Couldn't find his land legs. He fell back down onto the bench, catching himself as best as he could. Maybe he was still dreaming. He tried again. He was wobbly but he didn't fall. A small victory, he thought. Stumbling forward and examining around him, he saw the alley opening up onto the street. Bracing himself, he put one foot in front of the other. Stepping through puddles and newspapers. Making his way to the street.

The town was dead, a ghost, a phantom. Or maybe just sleepy. It was hard to tell. Not a soul could be seen. He seemed to be on a main street, in a small, long forgotten town. A place that only exists in books, or dreams. Levi rubbed his eyes. Kept looking. Across from him sat a lake. Or an ocean. He couldn't decide which. Looking down and up the street. One side looked like it led to the woods out of town, passed a big log cabin. The other deeper in. Past bricks and hauntings. He chose the latter, he didn't believe in ghosts and he needed help.