Practice

11-07-2019

The quite chirping of crickets sing. The occasional hoots from an owl as it joins the melody and the soft hum of a fan echoes from another room.

A youth, sadden with a unexplained melancholy sits, but not on a bed, nor proper chair -as there were none within the small room- but on the cool tile flooring that had been warped into an uneven surface from years of abuse. 

They sit; thoughts of meaningless conversations flow through their mind as gently as the breeze that comes from the creak that lays underneath the locked door. 

The youth blows a heavy sigh to the darkness, as though it were an old friend.

But the room wasn't completely dark, a dim flashlight shines from the back of a phone. It's only bright enough to prevent vicious thoughts from corrupting the -already fragile- youth's health.

They stare up at the ceiling, slightly bending a hand that holds the phone to move the light around. They force the light to dance in the mirror, as to watch its reflection within the walls of the tub.

Drowsiness tickles the back of their mind, causing them to quickly grow bored of their light show. Their hand goes limp forcing the light to be dragged away from the ceiling, but their eyes remain up, staring at their surroundings through the mirror.

The shower curtain is pushed the the farthest wall of the room: as to eliminate the fear of something hiding behind it. And a red towel hangs from the rod that also carries the curtains.

The youth stares at the towel, or more specifically, its odd shadow.

No one knew why the shadow seemed so alluring -not at first anyways. Not the youth, nor the darkness, not even the thousands of thoughts that were oh so intrigued by the shadow knew why it was so odd.

That was, until the whisper from the conscious. It pointed out the shadow formed the face of a strong man, with a long, but tamed beard.

Once the youth noticed this, they could not unseen the accuracy of the claim.

Now alarmed by the shadow face, the youth was on guard, as they continued to stare at the man.

Minutes passed, and the youth remained a statue as they continued their unbroken gaze on the shadowed face. It was almost like the youth was expecting it to move and leave the youth alone with their darkness. Even though, if the face dared to even wiggle its shadowy  nose the youth would probably scream, and leave the face with their friend: Darkness.

The youth took a breath to calm their now restless nerves, and they move the phone as to prove that the man was nothing more than a shadow, and that he could only move by their own will.

As to remove more uneasy feelings, they reach their hand up, and pull on the red towel down, but not off the rod. They look back into the mirror to see that the shadow face has disappeared. They take a breath of relief.

A moment a of silence cradles the youth, as they return back to a relaxed, yet still melancholy state.

Now that they were calm, their gaze slowly drifts up, to the mirror, and at air vent that sits directly above their head.

They stare, thoughts circling around them, but none stay longer than a minute, before fluttering away.

Then, all of the sudden, a black tentacle slither out from the vent. But unlike when the shadow face appeared, the youth didn't feel anxious.

As seconds ticked by, another tentacle joined its brethren.

Then another.

And another.

Before too long, the youth could not see the vent anymore, only short, black tentacles the softly suede in their dance.

The youth wasn't afraid, nor weirded out by the sight, but they were rather confused on why there were tentacles in the air vents.

Yet again, it wasn't until their conscious spoke up to point out the truth.

"It's just your imagination." It said shortly, in a calm voice. The youth nodded, unfazed by the fact that illusions never happened to them before.

They look toward the hanging towel again, ensuring that the shadow face had not return.

A small ounce of relieve drops on their paranoid mind, as they confirm that the face had not returned from the pits of hell that it first came from.

Their attention returns back the air vent, but they find themselves saddened by the sight of the air vent, and not at the black tentacles.

They must have left.

The youth pouted, but it didn't take long for their conscious to point out the their friend was still here. 

Their spirits lightened at the reminded that they were finally alone with their friend: Darkness.