Moving Symbol

Jerry looked out the foggy window as he sat in his apartment, rain came down in thick sheets that covered all he could see beyond the glass. It was cold but humid, having a thick blanket draped over himself to compensate, but only to take it off after a few minutes because he’d get too hot. A lamp flickered on his desk with a sticky note on it that read, “CHANGE BULB,” it's been there for months at this point. Tall stacks of paper filled with uncompleted ideas surrounded the typewriter, like pillars, to remind Jerry of his half-cocked ideas. A graveyard of unfinished projects. Coffee rings stained it as well, from the copious amounts he drank all day; still feeling tired somehow during and afterward.

The place looked liked it hasn’t been lived in for years at this point. With all the dust, cobwebs and old furniture from twenty-plus years ago. But Jerry had been here for a long while. He just didn’t care for cleaning much, and he had his bed cleared, which was the only thing he cared about being tidy. It was once his grandparent's flat, and he had a good deal going with the landlord. He helped with fixing up the building, and he was able to live rent-free. He took a sip from the hot coffee cupped in his hands, bundled up under the blanket still; thinking about what to write this evening. Nighttime was when he wrote best, so he waited for it to come. Sometimes, Jerry would stare at the shadows cast by buildings outside, waiting for darkness to befell them all.

I need to go somewhere, get some fresh air. Jerry thought to himself, looking at the bookshelf of completed novels. The nearest book store is what came to mind first, and what was the point of thinking, if you didn’t listen to what yourself said? He grabbed his jacket and hat as he walked out the door.

“News, read all about it!” A child said from under the cover of a closed business entrance, avoiding the downpour as the masses walked past him. Maybe Jerry would have grabbed one, but nowadays, it read the same no matter the day to him. The Reds have made new advancement in weaponry over the United States, or it was about our military. Propaganda filled the pages or local news Jerry cared little about. All he did care about was finishing something, anything that would make him feel like he had a purpose. He thought back to the stacks of paper that resembled a few city blocks from a bird's-eye on his desk. At this point, he was surprised the table hadn’t collapsed from the excess weight of them being there for so long.

The weathered sign out front of the building Jerry looked at read. ‘Books! New and Old!’. He hadn’t been here for a while, he tended to buy novels in bulk so he didn’t have to leave the apartment much besides the necessities. The bell rang above the door as he pushed it. The place looked empty, nobody was even at the register; seeing nobody at all. Two long paths went down each side of the register farther back. Two shelves down each path were filled with books, thousands of them. Jerry looked at the new releases that were placed on a round table. Most didn’t stand out to him, besides a few. ‘Atlas Shrugged’ by Ayn Rand. He had heard of it from his friend Henry, wasn’t interested. ‘On The Road’ by Jack Kerouac and ‘On The Beach’ by Nevil Shute stood out to him, but nothing was calling to him at the moment. He decided to try to find some of Isaac Asimov’s work he hadn’t read yet. He had read I, Robot and the first two novels in the Foundation Trilogy. The third one, that’s what he was now wanting to find.

He knew where the Science Fiction books were already, so he went down the right hallway. That genre's books were at the far end of the first bookshelf that was on his left side down it. At the end, besides the books, was a new part of the building he had never seen before. The back wall had been broken down and now gave way to what looked to be a reading lounge. Four couches’ were placed in a large square with openings at the corners in the middle of the room, atop a large rug. Seven people were on the couches, and they looked to all be reading from the same book. It was ‘Invasion of the Body Snatchers’ By Jack Finney. Jerry wasn’t much a fan of horror novels, so he didn’t pay any mind to them. Just a local book club, he’s seen them in other bookstores before. He looked through the science fiction section, and thought Asimov would be on the top right of the bookcase; nothing. Seeing none of his work. Then, he felt something. It was faint, but still there; like somebody was watching him. He turned around, looking at the group on the four couches, the feeling dissipated as soon as he had done so. None of them had even been looking in his direction, I need to get some sleep. Jerry always thought about it, that and his next big novel that would just end up amongst the towers of them at home. He was too scattered brained to even get a full thought out before he went to something else. A new project, a new world. All he could accomplish was finishing another novel. Now he looked back amongst the book spines in the genre. Like before, nothing stood out to him.

“Can’t make up your mind?” Said a woman's voice from behind him, sounding distant.

“I was planning on reading Asimov, but the book I wanted isn’t here.” Jerry said, just looking at the hundreds of novels on the dusty old shelf.

“Well,” the voice said, Jerry took a liking to that voice. “How about you read something new?”

He turned around, looking where the voice had come from. For some reason, there was now an eighth person in the group. He didn’t hear anybody walk from either of the hallways he was next to. The voice came from a pretty girl, she stood on the far side of the couches from him; looking right at Jerry. Her hair was black, and her skin was pale. She wore a casual black dress with nothing fancy going on with it. She had a black coat over it, with one of her hands in a pocket.

“How about you give this one a look over?” It was the same book the others were reading. She just stared at him. Jerry had seen her before, but not being able to pinpoint where. Maybe a bar?

“Horror isn’t my thing, thanks for the recommendation, though.” He said, giving her a smile; heart beating in his chest as he turned around to ponder the books before him. He heard a pair of heels as they hit the wooden floor, getting closer and closer to him. Then, they stopped right behind him. His hairs rose on the back of his neck, feeling almost compelled to turn around to face her. Why was she speaking to him? He must know her from somewhere, this must just be a game of some kind. He felt a hand touch his shoulder, feeling soft even through the layers of clothes he wore. Only being a couple of steps from her made it much easier to appreciate her looks when he had turned around. She had dark brown eyes, freckles on her cheeks, and smelt of peaches.

“Well, at least give it a shot?” She held the book out towards him, smiling. He still couldn’t recall where he had seen her before, maybe it was at a bar? Or in passing, and he had the confidence to speak to her that day? A day like that hadn’t come in some time, and he’d remember a face like that ‘till the day he was dead in the ground.

Jerry looked at the book, more so at her hands, which somehow looked perfect along with everything else about her. He just looked at them for a moment before he reached for the book, pulling it from her soft grip.

“I’ll try it out.” Jerry said, “Only because you’ve convinced me.” That got a chuckle from a couple of people who sat on the couches behind them.

“Good.” She said, her voice just above a whisper, her eyes still locked in with his. He couldn’t look away from her. She then grabbed the book quickly, writing something in it; then handing it back to him.

It was a date, three days from today at 12pm. She wrote a restaurant as well, “Gordie’s Diner.” Jerry thought that location over for a moment, it was only a few blocks from his place. She drew a symbol of some kind under it as well. It was a large circle with a much smaller one in the middle. Lines connect the two walls of them within, and they looked like they moved on their own. Waving back and forth slowly, some of them poked out the outer circle, too. Jerry felt a chill wash over him, and the tips of his fingers became numb as he stared at it.

“Tell me what you think of it over lunch.” She leaned towards him, snapping him out of the trance to look back at her. “Okay?” She smiled, her eyes turned a light yellow. Then, not even a second later, darkness consumed everything he could see, besides those yellow eyes. It was only for a moment before those went away as well, along with him. Consumed by an infinite void.

*

Jerry sprung awake in a sweat, thunder crashed in the distance outside, waking him from his chaotic slumber. His bed was soaked. When had he walked back home? Was he that tired? The rest of the room was pitch black, barely able to even see his legs. What time was it? Jerry walked into the bathroom to rinse some of the sweat off in the shower. He would need to change the sheets, too. What kind of dream did he have? He couldn’t remember, and from how his body reacted without him in the cockpit; he didn’t want to.

The desk light still flickered in the living room, being a constant reminder of his forgetfulness. All the curtains were closed, with only slivered beams of light cutting through the darkness. He felt sick to his stomach, body tensing with each step. When did he eat last? It felt like it hadn’t been days, never feeling this hungry before in his life. He dug in the fridge, looking for something that hadn’t expired. He saw some things he could put in a basic sandwich and did so, layering probably a dozen layers of ham on top of each other. That with mayo and cheese, scarfing it down in maybe a minute tops; downing it with a can of soda. He filled a glass with water to chug that as well.

Jerry felt something else was wrong. He looked at the radio in the corner of the room, then switched it on; changing to the news. Jerry saw on the clock that it was 11:36am, but not the date, as the only clock he had in the house was a tall, wooden clock. The pendulum below clicked as it swung back and forth, back and forth… just another antique amongst the others in this place.

“... another rainy day in Seattle as the sun sets once again. The same weather is expected tomorrow, Saturday, October 13th.” The news station said, Jerry snapped his gaze towards the window, running to it. Three days? He thought to himself, what the hell happened to me?

Then he remembered, he was supposed to see that girl for lunch at 12pm at Gordie’s. He moved like a blur in the apartment, never moving so fast in his life. He didn’t even know her name, but was this motivated to not be late; getting dressed in record time. The lamp flickered away, catching his eye. He grabbed the sticky note, putting it in the same pocket as his wallet. Jerry hoped that would remind him to actually get the new bulb today after lunch. Something else about his desk stood out to him, his typewriter wasn’t there; or anywhere in the room for that matter at a quick observation. All that was there in its place was the copy of ‘Invasion of the Body Snatchers’ that she had given him, and an old notebook. He didn’t recognize it, but it looked new. He felt that cold feeling wash over him again, along with his fingers going numb as he reached to open it. All went black besides the notebook for a moment, as he too had been consumed by the void. Besides the symbol that was carved into the notebook itself, the moving .

*

Jerry heard in the darkness clinking of dishes, the smell of fries was in the air and hearing people as they talked all around him. He opened his eyes, snapping his head upwards. He wasn’t home. Now he was at Gordie’s, sitting in front of the raven-haired girl he spoke with at the book store. She looked at him as her mouth moved, she was talking, but he couldn’t make out what she was saying.

His jacket was unbuttoned and soaked all the way through, so was his hat he wore still. He looked out the window. Even though it was just midday, the skies were gray; like it would be dark soon. The gloom didn’t continue into the diner, though, which was a relief. The place was alive. Waitresses maneuvered around each other down the paths with hot plates of food, or half unfinished ones atop the green and red carpet as they walked back into the kitchen. The grills could be heard beyond the slit that was the tall countertop where orders were slid through. “...and what did you think of the ending?” The girl said, smiling, revealing perfect white teeth, she had dark red lipstick on.

“Wh-what?” Jerry said, rubbing his eyes, looking back at the entrance of the diner. He then looked at the time, a clock was up on one of the gray painted walls, 12:22pm. He had been here for over 20 minutes at this point. How is that possible? He looked down at a plate that was in front of him on the counter. It was a cheeseburger with fries on the side, noticing he had taken a few bites out of the burger.

“Are you okay?” The girl said, reaching over, grabbing his hand tenderly. “You look tired.”

“I’m fine.” Jerry pulled his hand away from her, setting both of them on his lap as his legs shook uncontrollably. What is wrong with me? Maybe he needed some sort of medication. How long have these jumps in time been going on? Months? Years? For some reason, the symbol he had seen in the novel and on the notebooks cover was all he could think about now. Was it the cause of this? Why would he even make that connection. That’s all that has changed. That, and this girl. “What’s wrong with me?” He said under his breath, looking at the girl through teary, bloodshot eyes. “What have you done to me?” He said louder. Jerry then got to his feet, pointing at her. “Who are you!”

All she did was smile, looking up at him as her eyes began to glow yellow once more. Dozens of eyes stared at him in the restaurant, and his stomach rushed to his throat. Ears ringing, gaze locked with the black haired girl. The infinite void returned, consuming all that was around those eyes, even her face itself. He soon was sucked into the darkness’s maw, feeling nothing but a cold breeze.

*

Jerry then woke up, head resting on his folded arms atop his desk; sitting in his chair. Pain shot through his fingers, pulsing up his arms in a steady rhythm. The room was cold, and smelled of something he couldn’t quite place. Vision unfocused, but still able to notice that his lamp no longer flickered. He rubbed his eyes, helping them clear up, like he was wiping away fog from a window. The notebook he attempted to open before was still setting on the table. He reached for it. No overwhelming feeling came this time. But, when he touched the notebook. The tips of his pointer and middle fingers on both of his hands were bloody. It wasn’t somebody else's blood, but his. The four fingers looked almost like they were carved up, the nails ripped away; whittled bone just breaking through the surface of the damaged tissue. Tipped with a dark red sinew. The pain dissipated, and he threw open the book. It was a language he had never seen, looking almost like ancient hieroglyphs; but written in blood.

He saw movement just past the lamp. It was the girl, standing there just beyond the light. Eyes bright yellow against the shadowy room behind her. They had no irises, just solid yellow, almost akin to gold. She leaned over the table and held his bloodied hands for a moment, then grabbing the notebook.

“Perfection, utter perfection.” She said, closing the book, looking back at Jerry.

“What happened?” Jerry spoke before he cradled his head in his bloodied hands, sobbing into them. “What have I done?”

“You,” She walked to his side of the desk, leaning down as he cried into his hands. “Have finally finished something, more important than you could ever know.”