The Knocking
Winston Elbiant couldn’t quite explain why he felt so uneasy. That didn’t stop him from trying, though. His first explanation was that maybe he was uneasy in the same way a person felt uncomfortable if their mother made them wear something a little too extravagant for picture day. He knew it wasn’t uneasy in the way someone got uneasy when their gentleman friend got too close. Uneasy in an entirely new way. Uneasy in a way where his skin is crawling with otherworldly creatures and his heart nearly fails on him like everybody in his life has. Uneasy in the most unsettling way. A way where Winston couldn’t bring himself to turn around because his body had a mind of its own and refused to move; even if he did, his eyes would betray him and leak. There was a feeling in his bones, in his atoms even, and they told him in the language that they spoke, that if he turned around and looked into the dense forest, the source of the voices, he may never remain on this plane of existence again. Naturally, Winston composed himself, letting the thoughts flow into a lazy river.
