I come home from another mundane, unenthusiastic, predictable, and completely boring day of work. As soon as I step out of my car to enter my apartment, rain starts to pour. This kind of weather isn't unusual for where I live, but it is unexpected.
I climb up the first flight of stairs. Two more to go. Each step gets harder and harder to take. They take more and more energy out of me. So close. A little bit longer. For what felt like eternity, I finally reach my front door. I pull out a large chain of keys out of my pocket. I don't even know what half the keys are suppose to go to. They have no purpose besides weighing me down. It takes me a while to find the one I actually need. I insert the key into the lock of my door, but the lock is jammed as usual.
As I keep aggressively trying to unlock my door, a few others in the hallway outside their apartments start to stare at me. I can feel their judgement seeping into me like a sponge. It hurts. I'm able to unlock it after nearly snapping the key.
After all the struggle I just went through, all I want to do is rest. I enter the mess of my apartment. I expected more of a safe haven. I'm so exhausted at this point that I don't eat dinner or brush my teeth or dress into sleepwear. I just slam myself onto my rock hard bed.
I feel super sleepy, but I can't fall asleep. Perhaps it's because the light fixture is still on. I want to turn it off, but I don't have the energy. It feels like lifting multiple weights just to get up and walk to the light switch. I flip the switch, and I walk to my bed through the darkness. Enjoying the peacefulness of the room, I lay down and take a deep breathe.
Seconds later, I feel a hand clench onto me. I open my eyes to see the enemy, but I can't see it. I can't find the source. I need to turn on the lights. I stand up from my bed. More and more cold hands tug on me. I struggle to walk to the light switch. They are pulling at me so hard. They are pulling at my skin. I resist their strength and made it to the switch which I slap in mercy. The lights are on, and there is nothing to be seen. Nothing but the bedroom.
I look down onto my self. I panic. I am covered in blood and scratches. I rush to the bathroom to clean up. I am still in shock of the previous events. I'm in pain. My skin hurts. All I need and want is sleep.
I go to the bedroom which now felt like some sort of crime scene. Not the same feel. I place my shaking hands on the light switch. I am reluctant to press it. I turn them off anyway. I was expecting the hands to come back. They didn't. I go to my bed. Although the hands are gone, the scratches and scars are piercing with pain. I sleep.
The next morning, I don't feel good. My skin hurts, and I feel traumatized. I don't want to wake up, but I have to go to work. I replace my bloody clothes. I have scars everywhere, but there is nothing I can do about it. When I am at work, everybody seems to notice the scars, but they don't seem to care. They stare. They judge. They don't care. I finish my day at work, and the process repeats.
YOU ARE READING
Monsters In My Night
General FictionAn absolutely average man is living his unlucky life as usual, until he meets mysterious monsters at night. This is a short story that I wrote while experimenting with using the words to creat an image. It's also an allegory, so tell me what you th...