Brittle Calm

you hear a noise and your eyes open

not a loud noise

the noise of rustling fabric

like a shirt falling to a carpeted floor

you open your eyes and stare into your room

it’s just light enough for you to make out shapes in the darkness

you wait

and stare

and listen

but nothing happens

you relax and close your eyes

the sound comes again

closer

from next to your bed

you quickly turn over and open your eyes

there is nothing there except for the sheet that partly covers you

you pull it to your chin

your heart races and though the room is cold, you sweat

your mind wanders to dark places

horror movies you have seen

scary stories you have read or been told

a clear and haunting image of something you saw when you were younger and have never been able to forget

all of these things come back to you

cascading like a crimson wave cresting and crashing into its self

over

and over

you push the thoughts from your head

they are not real

they are make believe and faded memories and you are an adult now

you aren’t scared of the imaginary and the shapes and shadows in your room

even the ones that look like people . . .

you close your eyes

you think of the story you heard a few days ago

a story of a man in his bed with his fingers missing

bitten off

the mangled remains left to stain the carpet

the story of a man who had his eyes pulled out for looking at a figure in his darkened bedroom

a figure that seems to writhe and vibrate the longer you look at it

a figure with needles for teeth and hands like rakes

a figure that is always in your room

waiting for you

when you see it, you try to convince yourself it’s just another shadow

just clothes hanging in your closet

just a lamp and just a dresser and just your laundry basket in the corner

but if you stare too long

if you really see it, it will know

it will take your eyes 

when you reach your hand out it will take your fingers

and if you make a noise

it will visit you again

you feel a tug on your sheets and you open your eyes, coming back to reality

you sit up

eyes wide

eyes searching

you remember the story and you squeeze them shut

another tug on your sheets

this time they are pulled off of your bed

you expect to see something at the foot of your bed when you open your eyes but there is nothing

only dark shapes and the soft electric hum of the fan

you turn on the light and search your room

there are no monsters and you are alone

the doors are locked and everything is how it should be

you convince yourself it was just a dream

from the place in-between sleep and reality

the place where you sometimes fall or trip and startle in your bed

it’s muggy in your room and the air is still

you figure you must have kicked the covers off because now you are sweating

you turn the light off and lay down, exhausted

just wanting to sleep

your day starts early

and you are tired

so 

very 

tired

you are almost asleep when you hear the rustle of fabric

next to your ear

in your bed

you look

and you scream

you try to close your eyes

you try to move

to save yourself

but the room is dark

and the carpet, stained