Here's the Thing

For several nights running I awoke in a sweat. This was annoying as I usually slept well. I thought I heard a whispering or maybe clicking sound but on waking the sound vanished. I reasoned it must be a dream or the unfamiliar sound of my new old house; 400 year old wood timbers settling as the weather changed. I listened to the wind in the chimney; yes it was just a dream or so I wanted to believe.

I awoke one night and the whispering, or was it a clicking sound, did not vanish. It continued. As I normally slept on my side I decided to roll on to my back to listen with both ears. As I did my eyes caught something above my head. It was dark but some moonlight shone through the purple leaded windows. I was accustomed to admiring my new resin chandelier glinting but it was obscured by a blackness.  With horror I realised someone or something was bending over my bed. I starred as my heart tried to leave my body in fright. Above my head, getting closer to my face, was something more horrible than a ghostly visitor expected in an old troubled house. How I later wished it was merely a ghost. Instead I watched as a giant black beak surrounded by hundreds of black bulbous eyes leaned towards me. I can hardly recall this horror without vomiting, my guts churn. In fact it will be wise for me to continue my narrative from the convenience and brightness of the bathroom.

 

My fight or flight instincts took over. I leapt off the bed. I would have gone through the wall like a cartoon character. Fortunately I stumbled into the ensuite where the auto light burst on dazzling me and throwing a beam of light upon the bed. There was a hideous scuttling sound causing me to jump, like a fool, onto the bath tub and then silence. I challenge anyone to maintain that stance for long. My knees shook and I grabbed at the shower curtain before slithering into a faint. I came to with a bumped head as dawn diluted the bathroom light. The horrible thing had gone.

I reasoned after five days of not sleeping, thanks to coffee, coke and chewing coffee beans like peanuts, the thing only visited after dark. Clearly I could not sustain the lack of sleep indefinitely so I decide to sleep in the garden by day and then work in the house at night with ALL the lights on. I bought candles and even invested in some FBI surplus torches.

I could sell the house but it had been such a grandiose investment I had no wish to climb down that ladder. This work-life balance continued for a while. But I was getting more and more strung out. Coke and coffee will only get you so far. When it rained sleeping in the garden was uncomfortable even under the trampoline. I fell asleep for ten minutes some nights waking to find my face stuck to the computer keys and then listening anxiously for clicking sounds.

Then I had a very good idea. Why not pack the I Pad with a few supplies and head to the land of the midnight sun. I could work and sleep for months and then maybe using my giant human brain I could solve the sinister mystery. Was it real? Was it a manifestation of my unconscious?

 

I’d read somewhere nightmares meant fear of sexuality. Of course I could not remember the details because it was one of the many things you skim in life. I couldn’t put all the pieces together and I spent a lot of my energy trying to stop my teeth banging together after my coffee marathons. Nevertheless on the plane I concocted a plan. I had always been attractive to both sexes. I could make myself agreeable if it suited my purpose so why not explore the possibilities in my new home? Maybe the monster would go away? It could be a win win situation

So I was pretty busy what with work and sex and sleep. The Bed and Breakfast was run by an elderly woman who gave the impression, from her tired face, she had seen it all. Judging by her leather corset and cigars she probably had done it all too. She read the paper and smoked occasionally irritated by two fugly cats.  One was all bone and snarl; the other appeared to be a failed twin. It had a giant head with three eyes.

The old woman constantly cooked up milky creamy dishes. I couldn’t stomach them as they reminded me of her rheumy eyes. So I took to sharing them with the cats. I took to discussing my issues with them while they enjoyed a civilised supper of creamy soup, milky pudding and buttery bread. They politely left the bread and I dipped it in my coffee later. Soon the cats knew all. I began to feel pleased with myself, as they got fatter and sleeker, I relaxed work went smoothly and the city was a smorgasbord of sex. It was like a giant buffet with all the boring, healthy bits missing: Helle freckled shoulders and raspberry nipples, Tors with the most delicate wrists and X who bruised like a beautiful violet…

 

I forgot the seasons and the time and what darkness was. Until a three day chemically fuelled romp left me tied to my bed with my shoes still on my feet. I awoke in the dark. The clicking sound was back. There was something crawling in my hair, twisting it till it hurt. My mouth was so dry I could not speak; let alone shout for help to the old woman below. I was forced to watch in horror as, illuminated by a distant street light, the hideous beast clicked above my head. Its greedy bulbous eyes swivelled in every direction; worse above its hideous hairy head waved black hairy legs. One swung down and probed the bed. It was the worst of all my nightmares: a giant spider. Revulsion shook my whole body and the bed frame. My giant human brain had turned to granite. The thing rummaged about and then rubbed its beak across my face, as if making a final calculation before starting its meal.

A terrible scream filled the room, like an Irish Banshee curdling the air. The beast actually shuddered which would have been comic if I hadn’t been scared witless. It must be me screaming my last, before being eaten by a giant and irritable spider. But I was wrong. It was my cat companions. From where they had come I know not but they sprang at the creature scratching, clawing, screeching. It flayed its terrible legs trying to grab them. I meanwhile moved my legs, little by little. In seconds I had managed to twist my torso, and kick the light switch. I still thank god for wide plastic European light fittings. As the room lit up the thing screamed and began to shrink. The cats got the upper hand until all that was left was a bloody mess on the walls, the bed and the floor. The cats made damn sure it was finished. Where upon the old woman appeared, untied me with a sigh, and laboriously cleared up the detritus with an air of someone too long in the B and B business. The cats retired to the balcony and licked themselves clean. I returned eventually to England, sold my house and donated the proceeds to the cats’ protection league.