The Hissing Man

Content Warning: Supernatural violence, emotional trauma, death, possession, mental health

The Hissing Man

The day Alex returned to the town he once called home, the wind carried whispers from the house at the end of the gravel road. Fragments of sorrow hung from the air. He hadn’t seen her, heard her voice, in so long. He’d abandoned her and left her to deal with the consequences of his actions. She was alone and scared and he knew it.

She was only fourteen when he left her. He’d been the catalyst to their nightmare. He was fifteen, nearly sixteen, when he’d burnt down their childhood home. He was overcome with rage. He told himself it was because of the apparitions. It was the voices that haunted his nights and filled his every waking minute. They made him do it. It was Ivy who’d always believed in him, who told him it wasn’t his fault. Now, ten years later, as he approached the house that stood restored, he wondered if she still thought that way.

Ten years ago, he’d run from what he’d done. He’d spent those years trying to erase the memories of it. It was the dreams that brought him back. He dreamt of Ivy, of their mom, and of the fire. They were happening almost every night. He knew they wouldn’t stop until he faced what he left behind. It wasn’t long after he approached the house before the voices started again. They were the same ones he’d become familiar with, comfortable even.

He’s back, they said. He’s older.. They were barely above whispers but they reverberated in his skull. He recognized some of them. Some of them held back their words but he could feel their presence under his skin. His fingers had curled into fists at his side. He bit the inside of his cheek to suppress the agony that he knew would be instantaneous, and he knocked. Then he stood there and listened. He knew she still lived here, and he knew she was home.

Eerie chuckling flitted by his left ear, followed by a chill. When she finally opened the door, she was wide-eyed. She didn’t say hello and neither did he. It was a long few seconds before she threw her arms around his neck. She held on tight, her body shaking as she cried.

“You idiot. You left me.” Her voice cracked as she held him. He let her pull away first, and when she did, she held him at arm's length. “You came home.” She pulled him inside. Ivy had grown up too. Her awkward teenage stature was elegant now. She walked with a confidence he hadn’t seen in her when they were kids.

“I was sure you’d tell me to leave.” Alex whispered. He rubbed the back of his neck shyly. She stopped, a gentle smile tugged at her lips.

“I told you then it wasn’t your fault, Alex. I meant that.”

“I heard Mom died.” Alex approached the topic carefully. His voice trailed off a bit towards the end. He’d known it for years. She held on for a little while, but he knew it was the fire that had killed her.

“Yeah.” Ivy tensed a bit at the mention of their foster mother. “Not long after you left. But it’s been ten years since then. What finally brought you back?”

“I started dreaming again.” He paused. “About the house, I mean. About them.” She took his hand.

“Did you see it? The hissing man?” She was scared now, visibly so as her eyes flitted around the room. They called it that because when it would speak to Alex, it’s voice was a low whisper, raspy and angry like an animal warning you not to come closer.

“No.” He squeezed her hand to comfort her. “It was Maisie.” Tears welled in Ivy’s eyes.

“How did she find you?” Maisie was a young woman who died in the house decades before they both found themselves there. She played with them when they were kids and was a friend to Alex as he grew up. Ivy could never see the things Alex saw, but she always believed him. He told her all about Maisie and even passed messages from her to Ivy. It was one of the few times he had enjoyed his gift.

“She stayed with me, I think. I didn’t see her for a long time, and even now, she doesn’t visit the same way.” Maisie only came to him in dreams now. He couldn’t touch her or feel her like he used to. She used to hold him and sing to him when the voices became too much. Now, he only dreamed of her.

“You know I leave her cups of tea every once in a while, like when we were kids. I remembered you said she likes that.” Ivy squeezed his hand. He returned her smile with a nostalgic grin as the memory surfaced. “Come on. Let’s get you settled in.” She led him down the hallway and into a room that sat right where his old one had been. She told him about how she’d restored the house once she turned eighteen. Their mother had left behind a substantial amount of savings, and since he was gone, it went to her. She kept as much of the original framing as she could, and she’d re-done the colonial features so it looked like an updated version of their old home. The walls were now off-white with accents of soft lilac. The windows were bigger so more light filtered in. It was cozy and very much like Ivy. She’d kept his room ready in case he ever came back. When he saw it, he felt a pang of guilt stab at his chest. She was waiting for him.

“I saved what I could after the fire.” She pulled out a worn cardboard box filled with a handful of charred, fragile belongings. “These are yours.” He looked through the contents of the box with gentle movements, like he was afraid they’d disintegrate. An old t-shirt of one of his favorite bands was sitting on top. It had a few holes burned through and still smelled like smoke. A sketchbook was next, mostly legible apart from the charred edges. It was filled with drawings of all the spirits he’d encountered there. More than a few of them were of Maisie. Some pictures were carefully wrapped in tissue paper to preserve them. Ivy was in almost all of them. He smiled, remembering how they’d been inseparable.

“Thank you, Ivy.” He whispered.

“Get some sleep.” She hugged him again, tighter this time, and left him in the room to make himself comfortable. He felt awkward on the bed. He was so used to hospital beds that a normal mattress felt odd underneath him. He felt exposed without the safety bars hitting against his wide shoulders every time he turned over. The whispers had mostly faded, and no one had popped into his field of vision, but he knew they were there.

“Maisie?” He whispered into the darkness. The air was still. The room didn’t come alive with the scent of honey like it used to when he was a kid. He wondered if Ivy ever felt like this, whispering to something she couldn’t see or feel. The doctors had kept him on a mix of antidepressants and antipsychotics. He took them because they muted the sharp edges of his thoughts. Because they made it easier to breathe. But Maisie had never left him, not really. Even under layers of sedation, she waited. “Maisie, I’m here.” He whispered again. Still the air was empty. He drifted to sleep with the hum of the crickets chirping outside his window. He felt alone.

He awoke with a sharp breath. It ripped him violently from his sleep and left him disoriented as he tried to make sense of the figure at the foot of his bed. The air was heavier and warm now. There was a woman there, humming a familiar song. She smelled like honey. He felt the mattress dip as she moved towards him.

“Alex.” She smiled. Her blonde hair fell over her shoulders.

“Maisie!” Hot tears fell down his face as he hugged her. She wasn’t warm, but she was tangible. The gentle touch of her skin made him relax as her cheek brushed against his.

“You’re so strong Alex.” She petted his hair softly. “I’m so happy you came back.” Suddenly, he felt like a teenager again.

“It’s gone.” Alex looked into her eyes. Alex hadn’t felt the hissing man. He hadn’t heard it or felt the unforgettable rage that would well up in his chest when it was near. Alex was sure it’d died with his mother that day.

Back then, the hissing man would linger in the corners of the house. It was a dark, shadowy figure with blood red pools for eyes and an energy that made the room hot. It moved through the shadows like ink on the walls and followed his mother like it was leashed to her. Every outburst Alex had, every blinding episode of rage, was colored by the image of the hissing man. Its presence was there watching and hissing curses at him every time Alex would feel the anger rise up. Its shadow wrapped around Alex like a noose. Then he’d scream, throw things around and beat his fists into the walls. A part of Alex was glad the evidence of his behavior had burned away that night. His mother had always responded with equal force. She swatted him with belts, kitchen spoons, her hands… anything to get him to fall in line, and every time, the hissing man was there orchestrating it.

Maisie smiled somberly. “No, Alex, it isn’t.” Alex shifted on the bed, pushing her away from him slightly, but still keeping a firm grip on her shoulders. He was frightened she’d disappear again, that the hissing man would fill the space she left empty.

“Yes it is. I killed it. I-” He stuttered. “I killed her.” He gripped her shoulders tighter until his fingers were digging into flesh. If she was alive, she might’ve bled.

“Alex.” She said his name, her voice dipping to a more soothing tone, but it did nothing to calm him.

“Alex.” She said again, but this time the voice wasn’t hers. His eyes focused again on the woman in front of him- Ivy. “Alex, you’re hurting me.” He looked down at his hands on her tan shoulders. She was bleeding. He let go immediately, backing into the headboard. Alex looked down at the blood smeared across his fingers, his breath caught somewhere between a sob and a prayer. Ivy winced as he pressed down on the wound.

“I- I thought-” he stammered, voice breaking.

“It’s okay,” she whispered, but her voice dragged like a knife over gravel. A slow, dry hiss bled out at the end of her words. Alex froze. The crickets outside had stilled, leaving the air hauntingly quiet and uncomfortably hot. He looked at her- really looked. Her pupils had dilated too wide, swallowing the green. Her smile was twitchy and inorganic.

“I’m fine,” she said again. “It wasn’t your fault.” His gaze dropped to her shadow. It moved like thick, black water. It was delayed like it wasn’t quite synced to her movements. He backed away.

“You’re not,” he murmured. “You’re not fine.”

Her eyes followed him, slow and predatory now. “You're having nightmares, Alex.” The hiss again, louder this time. Inside her voice. Behind it. He blinked and the room shifted. The darkness melted back into the corners of the room until they disappeared entirely. Then Maisie was there. Standing before him in the bedroom just where she had been, where Ivy had been only seconds before.

“It’s not in the walls anymore,” she said. Her face was pale, lips trembling. “It’s inside her.” Alex gasped awake, but the room was unchanged. Ivy was staring at him from the doorway, her head tilted to the side.

“Nightmare?” she asked. But it wasn’t her voice.

Alex couldn’t sleep. He pictured Ivy with her polite smile, tainted with someone else’s rage. The next night, she didn’t sleep either. She wandered around the house, whispering under her breath. Something dark whispered back. Maisie stayed close to Alex.

“It has her.” Her voice was hushed as if anyone besides him could hear her. “It’s inside her, crawling under her skin.”

“It feeds on anger. Ivy’s too gentle.” He tried to reason away her silent steps and the voice beneath her words, but nothing made sense.

“You think there’s no pain? She saw your rage. She saw you kill your mother. She saw you leave her.”

“I did this to her.” His voice cracked. Ivy looked back at him, smiling an empty smile.

“You have to get rid of it.” Maisie gripped onto his arm as she whispered in his ear.

“There has to be another way. I can’t lose her.”

“She won’t have to die if you do it now. Cut it out of her.” Maisie’s grip was tighter. “Before there’s no Ivy left to save.” That was it, the sentence that broke him. He made his way into the kitchen, where she was stirring a cup of tea. She stared absently through the window above the sink

“You should go to bed, Alex.” She didn’t look at him as she spoke.

“I can’t.” He choked on his own voice as he grabbed a knife from the block on the counter.

“Go to bed, Alex.” Her voice was firm now, laced with the raspy malice of the hissing man.

“I have to save you.” Panic surged through him like a spark catching gasoline.

“Alex, no-” For a moment, her voice was her own, but he had already grabbed her arm, yanking her back and throwing her to the floor. The air flew out of her chest as she fell onto the hard tile. He was on top of her then, pinning her to the floor with his weight. She put her hands up defensively.

“It has you, Ivy.” He lifted the knife above his head. “Please let me save you.”

“Alex-” She tried to plead, but it was cut short as he brought the knife down with such force that her sternum cracked. Alex watched as the blood leaked from her chest. It swirled with the black, inky remnants of the hissing man. Ivy looked up at him, shocked and hurt.

“You can be yourself again, Ivy.” He touched her cheek as her skin went pale and her eyes rolled back. Her body went limp under him. He watched and waited for her to come back. He waited for his little sister to return to the body the hissing man had stolen. It felt like ages that he stared at her.

Finally, her eyes began to twitch as they rolled back into place, but instead of the same emerald irises that he knew, her eyes were bloodshot and red. Her open mouth curled into a smile and laughter reverberated in her throat.

“You did it, Alex.” The voice wasn’t Ivy’s. It was Maisie’s intertwined with the voice of the hissing man. Her skin was scorching hot as she threw him off of her. “I knew you could do it.” She stalked towards him, her body contorting in a way that wasn’t human. Behind her, Ivy- the real Ivy- watched. She was thin and spectral, nearly blending into the air. She looked heartbroken, the betrayal evident in her transparent eyes. She didn’t speak, only cried nonexistent tears.

“Ivy!” He crawled towards her, desperate to bring her back. “I didn’t have a choice. I had to save you!” He was feral as he reached for her, but she turned away, disappearing into the darkness. The hissing man, in Maisie’s now sickly sweet voice, laughed as it grabbed him by the throat. It lifted him into the air and crushed his windpipe, leaving Alex suffocating.

“You always had a choice, Alex.”