The Other

Somewhere beyond the little yellowed faces peering out from the wallpaper, are screaming souls. How do I know this? I put them there.

Let me ask you a question. Don't worry, I'll be brief. It's a simple question. I want to know: Do you feel it? The weight that presses against your chest, the icy fingers running up and down your spine?

You don't even have to answer. I know you do.

You've felt me since you stepped into this place, haven’t you? You've tried to ignore me, but, like a lover in the dark, you can feel my hot exhale on the back of your neck. Just now, you looked over your shoulder, a quick glance. But no one was there, right?

(Ah! But your mind conjured tricks. You've walked avenues of shadow in your nighttime sojourns, your dreamscape wanderings. And down each forbidden pathway, you've seen a shadowy form, a screaming image trapped behind the dark veil of illusion. it could be a hairy beast with a plaintive wail, jagged claws; a subtle, shifting, ghostly form, one that you can almost see, one you could almost reach toward and touch with trembling fingertips. It could be a slick, slimy, oily, blubbering mass of deformed flesh, shaved and pitiful as a half-dead baby swine. It could be the rotting corpse fo your own mother. If you touch it, will you pull back something disgusting, something vile? Will you pull back a stump?)

Only me. I was there, all along. I assure you. You can't see me. But I see every move you make.

I've watched you since you crossed the threshold. (You've entered freely of your own will, and please leave some of the happiness you bring...) You didn’t belong, not here. It's like you've stepped into the cavernous entrance of a giant mouth. And yet you came. Maybe you thought this was just another abandoned house, just another empty space, an "urban environment" to spelunk, to explore. But it's more. You're steadily finding that out. You’ve entered my domain.

Look around. The shadows dance the jive when you're not looking, lover. Do you see it? Did you hear that creak, that subtle groan of old years in the stifling shadows of the dark? I'm warning you.

I’ve been waiting for you.

I wonder: Do you even realize your situation has changed? Do you know what's happening? A frog in a pot of boiling water remains just as clueless.

If you can get out, GET OUT NOW. Your feet feel like leaden stones, glued to the spot, do they not? Your breathing is shallow and labored. And where is the door? You can’t find it, can you? You’re already trapped. And in this dark place, where the shadow hugs you in a freezing embrace, I’m the only thing you can feel, and your breath and your heartbeat are the rhythm and the bass to my melody of madness.

Listen closely. Listen deep within yourself.

Can you hear it? That deep sursuration? Those odd, whispered, half-spoken, unintelligible murmurs from some other time? Echoes. Echoes. That whisper you hear? That’s me, slipping through the cracks between your fast and fleeting thoughts. The walls are breathing, bending, and realigning themselves. They're alive. They breathe and laugh and cry and scream. Here, nothing is real. Everything is permitted.

I’m everywhere. And now you’re part of this house—my house.

Try to run, try to scream.

I’ll follow. I'll be one step behind. I've always been here. I’ll always be here. Watching. Waiting. Salivating. Ready to pounce, my dear.

And when you finally break, when you finally give in...

I’ll take you, just like the others.

The yellow faces. The silent screams.

Forever.

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