The 11th Figure

The 11th Figure 

The floor is slick with puddles and wet wood from fallen branches as I make my way through the storm with only a newspaper over my head to shield me. Finally, I spot the lights in the alley of the one place I feel is safe from the whip of the weather. The single trees that stand in the distance fluff themselves warm with every cool breeze that lashes by. It’s unnerving how their monstrous bodies loom over the street, smothering street lamps. Turning the corner, the bright, ugly lights of my sanctuary mark their glow into my eyes. My key is placed into the giant rusted metal door as I push it open with a thud and a creak. The apartment isn’t much nicer than the roars of fall outside; it’s cold and dark and the only light I have to fill the tiny interior is a small lamp on a table that is ready to be thrown away or put out of its misery. I take off my jacket, whose arms are soaked, and throw it next to the sad lamp that I finally get to switch on. Once the light flutters on, the apartment's junk is luminous. Stacks and stacks of papers and unused books clutter the whole inside in a way that makes them look like tall creatures waiting for me to become defenseless. I head to the back of the room, past a piano that is way too big, and turn on my small yellow radio that is rusting as much as my front door. What comes out of the thing scares me in a way where I don’t jump back, but immediately reach to turn it off. The notes were broken and out of tune but the radio was using all its might to sputter out whatever it could, missing a few notes on the way, like a broken toy. Even though I turned it off, it keeps cracking out a tune in a key that makes cold blood run through my face. I turn the radio around to pull out a tab and batteries that are keeping me from being sane and place them on my unbalanced coffee table. 

The coldness of the floor seeps through my shoes as I make my way to a scrappy journal. My finger, once again, traces the lines of the cover before opening it to reveal messy drawings of shadowy figures and phrases that all scream “Don’t Look”. The creatures are all tall and lean but vary in features; some have pointy fingers, some have holes for eyes, and some have legs that take up most of their body.  Before I can flip to the eleventh figure, my telephone rings. For a moment I am staring in horror at the sudden burst of sound but then I finally pick up the phone, I say nothing.

“Hello?” is heard from a familiar voice in the speaker.

 A sigh of relief escapes me.

 “Del.” I answer back.

“Hey, I was just making sure that you made it home without any episodes like last time.”

“I did. You must think I’m some nut since you’re calling after that night.”

“We have our moments, even if our moments consist of screaming about some shadow-man following you.”

“Every moment counts.” I say, letting a grin come through my voice.

“Goodnight,” he says with a laugh.

I return the farewell before putting the phone back.

The feeling of hanging up the one source of sound in the poorly lit space sends knots into my core. I bid the monster's demand and slip the book beneath five others. I feel vulnerable and very, very alone. Suddenly the angst of a thousand eyes hits me, making me sit on my couch to make myself guarded. Breathing hard, I finally get myself to calm down. I’m not sure what starts this sudden feeling of despair but it comes with a force as if my beating heart is being clenched in a tight fist. 

A soft melody of a piano starts to sink into my ears. I cave into the music, unguarded, to soak up every bit of sound I can get until I realize the state of my radio and the three batteries that taunt me on the table. I try to jump up to see the intruder but I’m unable to move. My limbs stay frozen even if I use all the strength I have to move them, my eyes dart around the room looking for anything, and my mouth hangs open since I am unable to close it. My arm is just out of view but I can see my fingers almost lifeless by my side so I try to concentrate on moving them instead of panicking. It’s no use. My eyes burn as my eyelids stay stuck, I’m losing hope. Becoming frustrated, I gather as much force as my body can handle and try to move, but still nothing. It feels as though I am hostage to my own body; that I have sunken into my own mind and I no longer have control. My breathing becomes difficult as my heart races at the amount of force I have built up inside of me. 

Suddenly the monster that has haunted my journals and my imagination appears in the doorway. Its long shadowy body is half covered by the doorway but I can see the way its long arms fall all the way past its knees and a half white, sick smile. Immediately I try to thrust my hands over my eyes as I used to do to avoid the creature, it’s the only way to get rid of it. I can’t close my eyes, I can’t run, I can hardly breathe, I am no match for what is slowly making its way towards me. I know now that I’ve been outplayed by the one thing I thought I knew how to easily avoid. Its lanky body towers above me, staring at me with the same smile plastered on its face. Those evil long arms wrap around my stiff neck, I can’t break free. A tear escapes my wide eyes, staining my cheeks as I try to sustain my last breath.