Monstrophy, Vol. 1

There Is Something In Your Apartment

There's something in your apartment.

You catch it out of the corner of youreye, sometimes, skulking in the shadows. It's amorphous and remindsyou of smoke, living smoke. Sometimes you see a tentacle-likeappendage, or a tail, the occasional claw or paw. The only thing thatseems consistent is the eyes. Four of them, softly glowing.

You're not afraid of it. It's neverdone anything to hurt you and at times it can be nice, feeling likethere's something else in the place. Like you're not totally alone.

Today is a bad day, though.

You can hardly move, can't get out ofbed.

Your head pounds from bouts of crying,interspersed with long stretches of not feeling anything at all. Thisparticular depressive episode has been going on for a while. Theapartment is a mess, and you know you stink. You haven't had theenergy or motivation to take a shower in...days? Days. At least.

The apartment is a mess of take outcontainers and dirty dishes piled on the small kitchen counter. Pilesof laundry lay scattered across the floor while your open closetdisplays mostly empty hangers.

You're torn between knowing that youhave so much to do and being too overwhelmed to do anything, soinstead here you are, in bed, wishing you could stop existing.

Rolling onto your back, you open youreyes to stare at the ceiling, and see a writhing, coiling mass ofshadow and smoke above your bed. It's never come out in the open likethis before, in all the months since you moved in. Four glowing eyesregard you, occasionally blinking in something that might beagitation.

It drops to the floor beside your bedand begins to slither up onto the blanket, making soft chirrupsounds. You roll onto your side, facing away from it. It makes awounded noise and slithers away.

You think you fall asleep. At least,when you open your eyes next, the light through the window looksdifferent. You notice the smoke creature staring at you beside yournightstand. There's a potato on the table. Wh..did it it bring you apotato? Where did it get a potato? You don't have any potatoes. Itpushes the potato toward you with a tendril. You decide to ignore it.

A few hours later you hear a crashcoming from the bathroom. You manage to get up and shamble over tothe bathroom and look inside. The smoke creature is clinging to thecorner of the bathroom ceiling over the sink. Your toiletries andpill bottles are scattered across the tile.

"What are you doing?" youask it. It's the first time you've spoken to your...roommate.

It slithers down the wall and rolls apill bottle toward your foot. Picking it up, you recognize it as theantidepressants you haven't been taking. Rolling your eyes at thecreature, you get a glass and fill it with water from the sink, andtake the damn pill.

"Happy?" you ask.

Its eyes squint in an approximation ofa smile and it vibrates, almost like a purr.

You lay back down in bed, having usedup all of your motivation to be ambulatory. The smoke creaturecautiously approaches your bedside.

"Yep, I'm still depressed, it's not amiracle pill."

The creature seems to ponder for amoment, then slithers up onto the bed and wraps around you like ablanket. It's soft, and warm, and it purrs. You decide to let itstay.

It becomes a habit, your strangeroommate curling up around you like a cloak when you're having adepressive episode. Leaving little gifts of food and water for younext to the bed. Occasionally even running a bath for you, though ithas let the tub overflow more often than not. There are lots of movienights and cooking disasters. And it's nice, really nice, havingsomeone who doesn't ask anything of you or expect anything of you,someone who is just there.

There is something in your apartment.And you hope it never leaves.