Mind Or Matter

Chapter Twenty One

I backed up from the door. Checking through the glass again, I wanted to make sure Arianna was really standing there.

The hallway was empty.

I sighed, letting out all of my air. That was when I heard it behind me.

A low whisper. Not words, specifically, just cold air.

I knew something was behind me, breathing. It was icy and dead, like a ghost.

I had a feeling someone was staring at me, standing right behind me.

Silence.

I decided to do it quick, like a Band-Aid. I jerked my head around, the world blurry for a second, then clear.

Nothing. But I noticed the sheet "wall" that surrounded the couch was moving a little, swaying.

Someone was inside the little dome of sheets, lying on the couch.

I felt my heart thumping quicker, deep and low like a lion's growl. I was frozen in place, unable to move.

No one's there, I told myself, you're just being paranoid.

But I could feel someone there, that feeling you get when you know you're not alone.

Taking a step forward, I heard the floorboard creak a little. Another step. And another. And another.

I was now only a foot away from the couch. The white sheet had stopped moving, surrounding the couch.

Placing my hand on the cold sheet, I tugged at it hard, ripping it out of the clips that held it above the couch, the blanket falling to the floor.

On the couch was a small piece of paper, nothing more. It was about the size of a small chocolate bar.

I leaned forward, my fingers lightly touching the surface of the paper. It was blank. I flipped it over, then gasped.

There was a drawing of a tree. At first it looked like a normal oak, but then I noticed something – between the leaves and branches drawn in grey pencil were flames, also in grey, but darker. It almost seemed like they were moving, licking air around them.

They were moving. I looked closer to the fire dancing in the still wind of the drawing.

No, they weren't moving. They couldn't have been.

I let go of the paper, which floated to the ground. I turned around, rushing over to my bedroom. Opening my closet, I stared at the reflection in the mirror hung on the inside of the door and it stared back. I almost didn't recognize myself.

What's wrong with me? I asked myself, thinking. Why do I see these things? I only have a small touch of Schizophrenia... Otherwise, I'm just a normal guy in his mid-twenties...

Suddenly, I saw something in the reflection of the mirror. A shadow, standing right behind me. No, not standing, crouching. Like a tiger waiting to strike its prey.

I turned around, preparing for the unthinkable.

Nothing was there... Wait, no, I could hear voices... whispers...

"It's all in your head, William," a soft, airy voice called.

Another rasped, "none of this is real..."

Without warning, there was a loud roar of flames and the smell of smoke in the air. The bed was on fire, the wardrobe, the closet...

I ran out of the room, remembering to keep low so I wouldn't suffocate. I crouched into the living room, standing in front of the couch.

The piece of paper with the drawing of the tree had fire coming out of it, a ring of flames surrounding it on the floor. The paper itself wasn't burning, but I could imagine the flames on the trees in the drawing, flickering.

What the heel is happening... I thought, my mind racing. My instincts were telling me to run, to get out of the house. But my gut was urging me to stay, like I was forgetting something here.

I gasped, my head still on the kitchen counter. Chase's old diaries were stacked to my right, at least ten of them.

The house is fine. It was just a dream, I told myself, looking around some more. I stood up, curious to check everything, to see if the drawing was still in the living room, waiting for me.

But the living room was empty. Everything was fine except for the walls, which had five words scrawled in blood: IT'S ALL IN YOUR HEAD.