Twenty-Three
About ten years ago, I woke and was unable to move. I knew immediately I was caught in an episode of sleep paralysis. There was no sense of what time it was, the way there is usually when you wake unexpectedly. The room should’ve been dark, but it wasn’t; it was dim, but had a sepia tint. I felt something to my right – a concentration of unrivalled malevolence that I knew was watching me. Every panic attack I’d ever had, the fear of recovery after the car had hit me, the dread of awaiting test results when they’d initially thought my digestive issues were going to be much more…
Twenty-Two
When I get home from work, there’s a small twig – about six inches long and boasting a handful of leaves – shoved into the mesh of the screen door. In Greek (and some other European cultures), this is a calling card – somebody wants me to know that they’ve visited. Only one person’s ever done this – IDIOT FRIEND, albeit years ago, before he was IDIOT FRIEND (although, no doubt, he was still an idiot). His work occasionally takes him through the area, and he’s randomly dropped by in the past. One time, he did exactly this – snap a twig to prop in the screen door. Obviously, he’s…