Shadows

Chaoter 5: Fear The Night

A few weeks passed by.

Specifically, it had been one and a half weeks. It was around then that I decided to try a night without the sleeping pills, since I seemed like I had gotten better.

That was what I hoped, at least. It certainly seemed as if my insomnia had gone away. I had gotten a full night of sleep every night since I had begun taking them.

Of course, I didn’t fall asleep that night. I was awake all the way up until the alarm blared in my ears.

Fortunately though, I was still pretty lively that morning, so I managed to get through the rest of the day pretty well. My mood and work were unaffected, for the most part. Unfortunately, however, it seemed like I had to keep taking the sleeping pills if I wanted to get any sleep for the time being.

So, I did.

I took the pills every night for another two-odd weeks, and I had a complete night’s sleep every time.

I was fully rested and pretty much back to normal.

I was doing great.

Everything was okay.

And then, one night, I took the sleeping pills, and laid awake in bed for a little while longer than I generally did. Eventually though, I fell asleep just fine, and slept like a baby.

At least, until I woke up again only a few hours later.

My first reaction was pain. Lots and lots of pain. Too much pain. The worst of it was in my head. An immeasurable pounding. My skull felt as if it was fit to burst, and my eyes explode from their sockets. My mouth was dry.

I tried to scream, to do anything, but I couldn’t move. I couldn’t think through the hurt, couldn’t act through it. The rest of my body was in so much pain as well that all I could do was twitch uncontrollably on the bed.

My wife, right beside me, didn’t wake up.

She always was a sound sleeper.

There was blood, I think. I could feel it seeping out from somewhere on my face, dripping down my neck and onto the sheets, pooling around my body. I could smell the iron. I could taste it.

My heart was beating faster and faster and faster and faster, pumping the blood through and then out of my body. I could hear it in my ears, above the screaming pain between them, in my brain.

Every fiber of my being, my skin, my fur, my mane, was on fire, burning to a crisp from the inside out, and the outside in. A thousand needles.

My limbs clenched and unclench wildly, rapidly, unceasing. Convulsing.

Acid was melting through my stomach, my intestines, mixing with the blood and other juices.

I could feel the synapses in my brain shutting themselves off one by one, unable to hang on any longer, deadened by this.

All that, in an instant.

And yet, even through this indecipherable haze of pain and agony, through being completely out of control of my own body, I could see.
Despite my eyes about to disconnect from their sockets, they could see.

Despite this pressure in my skull.

The ceiling above me had a popcorn texture on it.

There was a bit of paint peeling off near the top of a wall.

There was no moonlight.

Writhing figures just outside of the window next to the bed, peering in at me, grinning all the while.