Shiver

...

Evan awoke with a start and began swinging into the air. He let out a startled screech as consciousness seemed to sieze him and force him to face reality. He looked around and took note that he was on the couch. Harsh daylight was pouring in through the window and it stung his eyes. He rubbed them tenderly, feeling his muscles and head begin to throb. A night spent drinking and laying on the couch was starting to make itself known. Evan let out a gurgling kind of moan and slowly moved his creaking joints.

He jerked and looked up towards the ceiling. The intimidating skull dressed in feathers and beads hung motionless above him in the rafters. He ran a hand along his pale features and down the rough beard stubble that formed. His eyes didn't want to come away from it, but he eventually returned his gaze to the television above the fireplace that had long since shut itself off.

"Just a stupid dream," Evan muttered to himself as he trailed his eyes down to the fireplace. Within it was fresh ashes and the firestarter laid upon the bricks. He craned his head towards it and furrowed his brow.

"Part of a dream?" he asked himself, wondering when in the night he passed out. It had to have been after the fire or after the messages. He picked up his phone and pushed the button to turn the screen on. Dead.

"Goddammit," he muttered and shook his head. "I had to have passed out during that last message from Sam."

Sam. His mind lurched and he felt sick again. What was he going to do about the mess he'd made by drunkenly calling his wife at God knows what hour? He couldn't fathom anything at this moment outside of getting circulation into his body and having a morning cigarette to help with the fog. Walking back to the bedroom, he found his charger mercifully unpacked and available.

He then snagged his pack from the kitchen counter near the glass door. Slipping on his shoes he walked towards the door and heard a light crunch. He turned his eyes downward and watched as the cigarette fell from his gaping mouth. The door had been left slightly cracked, allowing snow to blow in a little. He put his fingers through the crack in the door and felt the chill of the outside morning on his skin. He couldn't fathom that part had been real. There was no way. His eyes trailed back up to the skull and he wondered for a moment if he'd seen it smile just then.

He snapped himself out of it and turned back down to look at the cigarette that was slowly soaking up the wet of the snow it landed in. He grimaced and delicately picked it out of the snow, deciding to let this one dry on the counter. He fished another cigarette out and opened the door fully to step outside. Lighting his cigarette, he stared out into the pure blue sky and tried to take guesses as to what time of day it was.

He also tried to reason with himself about the events of the previous night. It had to have been some kind of drunken mixture. His own mind playing cruel tricks on him. He rationalized it as a guilty mind tormenting him due to his infidelity. It explained why he heard his wife's voice all around him. Why it was her distorted skin across the animal skull that tried to crush him.

The grisly vision of his wife's face stretched across the long, thin skull made him wretch a little. He remembered it so vividly and yet it was impossible. The skull was still hanging up. There was no way it fell on him when he didn't have a scratch. He grit his teeth as a chill ran down his spine. A sudden feeling of paranoia washed over him as he looked out over the wilderness below him. Low clouds rolled a long the tops of trees. They moved slowly, looking almost like pale hands stretching over the trees as if they would pluck them up. Evan felt immediate unease at that comparison and crushed out his cigarette into the snow on the railing.

He went back inside and began his morning properly. He began coffee and freshened himself up. He was thankful to have a mouth that no longer felt like sandpaper and tasted like regret. Once done, he took stock of his refrigerator, notably the beer. He'd gone through most of the twenty-four pack and he let out a sigh. Slucing his wet hair back he figured he needed to go into town which meant needing to drive down the mountain. A prospect he did not look forward to.