Memory Foam

Arms swat branches and leaves out of the way, as a traveling man sprints through the dark woods. A loud grunt comes from far behind. He continues the escape as his chaser closes in and his stomps echo. The shattered moonlight illuminates the red flannel shirt of a large lumberjack, as he swiftly, but solidly plows through the forest. His bloodied ax bobs behind him, as the lumberjack relentlessly pursuing his next victim.

The man continues the run for his life, darting past bushes and leaping over rocks, adrenaline has taken over. He fits between the crowded trees with ease, but the crunching screech of splintering wood quips his ear and he pushes forward. His foot catches a root, bringing his only chance of escape to a halt. Desperate, he continues to crawl forward into a small grassy clearing in the forest. The lumberjack bursts out with his axe readied. The man rolls over into a fetal position, pulling his head in with his arms. He shuts his eyes tight.

The traveling man is safe in the bed, in the same fetal position, making the same face, and still fully asleep. It’s the middle of the night and his room is shrouded in darkness. He is having a nightmare and his grunts piercing the silence.

A sweaty Charlee Lancaster darts up breathing heavily, waking up from her own nightmare. She's safe and takes a moment to breath. She is in a town car, driving through the warm autumn Vermont mountains. She turns for her bag and pulls out a small worn black notebook, flipping it towards the last few blank pages. She takes the pen cap off with her mouth and writes as fast as her hand will move to get every detail her brain just tortured her with onto the page, murmuring some of the syllables as she pens.

“Yes. So good. So dark. Mhmm.” Charlee mumbles to her audience of one. That is, until the driver rolls down the partition.

“Miss. We’re almost here.” the driver announces. The car pulls up to the cabin slowly on the gravel path. The mountains and sunset paint a violet backdrop in the masterpiece of her writing retreat. The car comes to a stop and she steps out to take in the view.

Charlee closes the cabin door behind her and rests her head against it. She looks around the cabin - an open space, completely analog: no TV, no wifi - a luddite's dream.

The plush, L-shaped couch took up the living room space and called her name immediately. The large round coffee table hosts a large hurricane jar full of pine cones topped with a beautiful bouquet of warm, autumnal flowers. The light poured in through the full wall of windows opposite of the front door. She release a breath and some stress.

She walks in and starts to make herself at home. She finds an old phonograph with several rows of albums below. She looks at her phone and now there is no service. She looks back at the console and sees a card with her name on it. She opens it and reads aloud “Congrats on your book deal. I am glad I can lend you my space so you can finish your manuscript. Everything in the box is yours. Use it until they pay you! It’s your time Charlee!” She opens the chest to find just one stack of crisp 100 dollar bills, wrapped in a bank ribbon marked with a purple $20,000.

“Oh my goodness...” Charlee gasps while closing the chest. She opens it. Then closes it. Repeatedly until the reality sinks in. She picks up the stack and thumbs through it, smelling it closely. “Alrighty then. Thank YOU Siobhan!”

The bedroom is to the right of the door, down a short hall. The kitchen is on the left, but the breakfast nook & bar keep it open and tie it in with the living room. The L-sectional couch looks plush enough to die on - she tests it out - she is already thinking about spending the evening on it. Her stomach rumbles at the same time. “Time to eat!”

She walks into the kitchen and pulls out ingredients to cook a meal and returns with a full dinner plate and wine, flips open her black notebook, and reads from the couch. After dinner and the whole bottle of wine, her eyes get heavier as sleep starts to overcome her. Her head starts falling forward while holding the book. She slowly falls asleep, as her eyes fully close. The silent white noise of the forest hums across the room - THWACK of an axe chopping wood split the silence into two, startling Charlee out of her sleep. Alarmed but on auto-pilot, she stumbles to the bedroom and falls asleep in the bed.

Charlee becomes conscious in the woods. It's dark and foggy; she can't see her hands in front of her. She's still groggy and gathering her bearings.

“Where am...I? "

She slowly rises to her feet, trying to remember why and how she got this far in her pajamas without shoes. It's peculiarly warm for being this late - Charlee knows - something is off.

She hears a guttural groan from deeper in the woods. She panics and runs.

She reaches the tree line and ends up in a clearing. She sees a darker silhouette of a cabin in front of her. A light turns on in the window. She sprints towards the cabin when a man walks past the window. She ducks under and peeks inside. No one is home. A roar comes from the forest as several trees break the silence with their booming fall. She enters the door slowly and closes it behind her.

Charlee continues into the kitchen of a restaurant, arms full of ingredients and dressed in chef attire. She doesn't have any memory of being there or picking up the ingredients. She looks around to see if anyone else shouldn't be here. Everyone is moving with purpose - she sticks out like a sore thumb. “Where am I?” Charlee says quietly to herself.

Diane, the restaurant manager, enters the kitchen to give her shift announcement. “Alright everyone. Hope you had a great day. Saturday night dinner rush - we've done a million of these so nothing new. The doors have opened. Let's get started!”

Charlee assembles her space for the dinner rush, and tries to go with the flow. It begins and Charlee bumbles. Everyone is buzzing around, but she can't find the routine.

“Everyone, I have to step out for a moment for a personal emergency.” Diane announces. “While I'm gone, He's in charge. Charlee kept her head down while Diane spoke, but when she looked up, the Lumberjack stands next to Diane, his face unrecognizable. She screams and bolts for the nearest exit.

He's one step ahead and intercepts her path; he grabs for her as she sprints by. A near-escape. He catches her by the hair. She yelps, but pulls forward, continuing her escape, and starting a tug-o-war. Neither gain much ground, when both decide to build energy for a last pull to become the victor.

Success! Charlee continues toward the door, leaving a chunk of hair in the Lumberjack's hands and a noticeable hole on the back of her head. She runs down a hallway of the kitchen, into another hallway, into another, and she looks behind her and he still follows. She keeps running, pushing through each set of doors as the hallways begin to look the same. She looks behind and he is gone. She stops. She slowly opens the next door and it's the same hallway she is in currently. She closes the door. She opens it again and she sees a woman on the other side facing the door with a bald spot on her head on the far side.. She quickly shuts the door and looks behind her. He is there. She opens the door and runs for it.

Charlee bursts back into the cabin. She takes sigh of relief in her last moment of peace. She grabs her chest in reassurance, then pulls her hair back in stress with both her hands. She find the bald spot and starts to cry. She's standing in the living room as she regroups herself when the Lumberjack appears in the doorway. She turns around and sees him. She screams, but before she can run, he is already in the air, aiming to tackle her. She squints her eyes shut, screaming, as she drops to the floor.

Charlee opens her eyes in her bed and shoots up in bed. She was dreaming. She gets out of bed to splash her face in the bathroom. She turns on the light and feels for the bald spot, tears well up when she feels her scalp. She tries to shake the dream away, until a noise breaks her concentration.

A pot crashes in the kitchen. Frightened, she peeks out from the bedroom. No one can be seen. Eerie silence. She sneaks out, crouching low to the ground. Alert and ready to attack anything that moves, she makes her way to the kitchen.

She takes a few steps back into the living room when the flood lights go off, immediately illuminating the room with a frighteningly white light. Charlee screams as a whisper slowly echos through the cabin. She takes a breath as she finally hears the faint voice.

Silence. No echo. Dead air. For only a few heartbeats. Then, as if standing over her right shoulder, she hears a mysterious voice says “I'm coming for you.” Charlee trembles as she tries to keep herself together.

“I will have you beautiful.” it continues.

Charlee loses control off herself as her knees buckles, grasping for support. Suddenly, shutters slam shut on the furthest window pane from Charlee, blocking out the light. She screams as darkness shows its ominous face. The shutters close on the second pane with a louder boom than the first. Charlee gets to her feet and hugs the wall as she tries to find the door to escape.

Charlee screams “Who are you?” as the third shutters close, growing in noise. Charlee is making her way to the front door.

“You don't know where you are, do you?”

Charlee backs up to the door, fully drenched in light as darkness closes in. She places her hand on the knob of the front door as she realizes she is dream. She turns around to face the darkness and lifts her head up high.

“I said ‘Who are you?’”

The voice echos from the darkest corner of the room. “You really want to know?”

“Yes. Reveal yourself to me.” she shakily replies.

“Fine then.” the voice hisses. “Turn around. I'm right behind you.”

Charlee trembles with fear, but in a swift movement, pivots around. The moment she is fully about-face with her nose pressed against the door, a dark wind, violently yet quietly storms past her, absorbing the noise of her yells and every other sound. Her hair is forced straight back and her cheeks and lips are flapping under the force of the wind. It rushes through the cabin, as all of the remaining shutters slam shut down the line rapid-fire. Darkness consumes everything. It feels like a lifetime.

Charlee is asleep in her bed on her side, vaguely in the same position holding out for the door knob, face contorted in her frozen scream. The sheets cover her completely, except for her exposed hair and bald spot. Slowly, her body starts jostling and her grunts gets louder but more muffled at the same time. Slowly, her body starts recessing into the bed; the sheets deflate.

It’s the middle of the night and her room is shrouded in darkness - her grunts are the only noises piercing the silence until silence returns.

The sun rises, slowly illuminating the room. Charlee is gone. Her small black notebook sits atop the empty sheets.