Vistaria

this damnable pain, and not the pain in his ass this day has befallen.

  Inside his shadowy abode he hastily grabbed a bite to eat, and off to bed, but he couldn’t quite shake the feeling that he was being watched. He laughed to think, through walls no less. Nonetheless he had the creepy sensation ever since Ethan Messenger spoke to him insisting, ‘its waiting.’ The words had thoroughly unnerved him, and he had to wonder what on earth was waiting. Zayne laughed it off as a joke, yet deep down he was rather uptight about the whole affair. He sieved through his adequately spaced home, and into his bedroom that had quite a few mirrors spread about the walls in which the previous tenants must’ve enjoyed immensely. The bed had been calling his name since his alarm rang first thing that morning, so he was certain his body would virtually die once it came to rest on the mattress. Zayne climbed into the bed, with hardly enough time to lay his head on the pillow. “Sleep…” his mind begged, and he was so right. He had died, and gone to sleep heaven.

  There was an endless nothingness, as little by little he felt he wasn’t alone, and paralyzed by overwhelming fear. Everything was utter blackness, as his body betrayed him, and he couldn’t open his eyes, nor move a muscle in his body. Despite that he knew he was not alone, as he could sense a presence stir around him, yet he just couldn’t quite wake up. His mind screamed, “Whose there?” Of course there would be no answer, as he felt the terror rising in every thunderous heartbeat, and his blood pressure nearly off the charts from this still mounting distress. At once a pain shot through his skull, as if it were on fire, and the mattress ever so lightly vibrated by an unforeseen force. Zayne’s mind shrieked endlessly, “Nooooooo…”

  All of a sudden he sat straight up in bed still screaming, “ooooooooooooo!” Straight away he scanned the room, as he realized he was awake, and completely alone in his bedroom. It was now the middle of the night, as his head was pounding even worse than before, and the wound had taken a notion to start bleeding once more. “Damn.” Zayne exhaled noisily with relief that it was all a nightmare, certain his head injury had caused all this, for the reason that he had never experienced anything like it before.

  Once he had calmed a bit he’d leaned to glance at one of the nearby mirrors at his reflection, unsure if he should go to a hospital or not, but he wasn’t overly fond of all the waiting. His mind exclaiming outrage, “If you’re not dead when you walk in, you may feel that way when you try to leave twelve hours later.” Instead he decided a glass of alcohol and a couple pain relievers would be his miracle cure, even though he was sure only a dumb ass would do something so foolish, so what can he say, he is a dumb ass.

  Zayne was still overly tired, but knew he couldn’t sleep after that nightmare, so instead decided to browse the computer, well at least until he was ready to drop right into slumber. He sat down at his computer desk, with his back towards his bed. The soft sound alerted him that the computer now had power, as he casually took a drink to wait, and gaped off into the black of the screen. Dubiously he noted a lofty sized image located in the vicinity of his bed within the black of screen, just for that few brief seconds before the screen lit up, and the light blurred the fine line between what was real and what was not.

  He rapidly turned around staring in the direction of his bed, as he strode that way to where he had seen the image, and observed small traces of blood on the carpet, but was convinced it had to be the blood from his wound. All at once a shiver inched up his spine, as the intense feeling of being watched had come again, but now he knew he was absolutely alone in his tiny room. So why did he feel this way?

  At that time he heard the neighbor’s dog barking, as he hurried to look out to see what it was barking about, and a dark figure was walking out front of his house down the sidewalk. Eerily as the figure moved below a streetlight it was obvious it was a red haired female, however he didn’t have a chance to see her face. But by the color of her hair and the way she walked in her heels he could almost swear it was the same female that had walked nearby the accident, and that in itself was a bit ominous. Zayne could hear his mind flatly arguing that it just couldn’t be the same woman, what were the odds of that. Although he had never seen a woman remotely resembling this person near his neighborhood before, and he knew everyone who lived within a four-block radius. Then he berated himself to let his mind get carried away, “I’m just exhausted and seeing things that don’t really exist.”

  The next morning Zayne is startled awake by the doorbell. He stumbled to the door feeling absolutely dreadful, certain his miracle cure didn’t help at all, and more than likely attributed to his already hallucinating brain. To his horror the most ungodly sight stood just outside his front door looking rather mischievous. Even as the door swung open he could already hear Brody teasing, “InZayne how ya feeling?” Brody knew he didn’t care for the insane nickname, but somehow he often found ways to insert it into conversations. Zayne kept his stoic expression, as he turned back towards his living room to find a seat, and merely shuffled away frankly answering, “Like crap.” Brody followed him inside, even as he handed him the morning newspaper, and kindly enlightened his friend, “Zayne you look like crap.” Then a flicker of honest concern crossed his almost always-sarcastic personality, “I mean it. You look awful.” He advised, “You should go to the hospital.” Zayne blew the idea off, saying, “All I need is sleep.” As he made sure the issue had come to rest, “I’m taking off work today, and tomorrow I should be as good as new.” Adding to nip the subject in the bud, “If I don’t feel better by tomorrow I will go see a Doctor.”

  Then he proceeded for the next half hour to tell Brody about the accident yesterday, and hallucinations that have followed. Brody joked, “Hot red haired chick and you have a headache.” Zayne grumbled, “Ah, shut up.” Brody laughed, and threw yielding hands up in the air, “Just saying.” Zayne turned his attention to the newspaper, even as Brody continued to blather on and on in the distance. He gave it a shake, as he began his search for the accident yesterday, which didn’t take long since it was plastered on the front page. Sensationalized headline, 13-car pileup, kills one, and injures many others. A man single handedly stopped traffic, as the pedestrian ran into the oncoming traffic, and was struck by a motorist. According to witnesses a chain reaction followed the initial accident, resulting in one dead, and scores of people hurt. The story went on and on, but his interest was peaked at seeing the photo right below the headline. It was a picture of the dark van, and the nearby ambulance just as the paramedics were about to load Ethan Messenger into the back.

  Then Brody leaned forward, grabbing the edge of the newspaper asking, “Are you paying attention?” Zayne lied, “Of course.” Brody continued on, “I read the article about Ethan Messenger. It seems you killed the messenger.” Zayne heatedly hissed, “Ha, ha, you’re very funny.” Brody just disregarded his ire, as if he were an annoying alarm that kept going off, with no damn way to shut it off, “His funeral is tomorrow morning at 10am.” Then cleared his throat in disbelief, “He was only 24 years old.” Zayne thought it was best that he goes to the funeral, even though he didn’t know the man directly, other than the few minutes on the road. Brody released the edge of the paper, and said, “Just thought you might want to know.” Zayne nodded, “Yes. Thank you.” His eyes dropped back to the photo on the front page, and instantly the image he’d been seeing was undoubtedly visible. He held the paper towards Brody, pointing out the image in the side of the dark van, saying, “This is what I’ve been seeing.” Brody shook his head, not quite sure what he was looking at, “It looks like the side of a van to me.” Zayne incredulously hissed, “Idiot. Its right here?” His finger traced the outline, saying, “Whatever it is, it looks monstrous.” Brody looked closer, but still could make nothing of the black and white image, “I don’t see it.” Then stated, “The photo is too blurry to make out a definite shape, and more than likely it was just the contours in the paint.” Zayne argued that it couldn’t be, stressing the fact, “I was there I saw It.” I
ncluding the undeniable information that, “I’ve seen it more than once.” The verity of his words even shocked himself, “Something is there.”

  He jumped from his seat, motioning for Brody to follow him to the bedroom, saying, “I’ll show you.” The computer came to life once more, as he found the newspaper article, but online it was in detailed color. Zayne easily found the hideous image on the side of the crumpled dark van. It definitely was the same image he’d been seeing since the accident. He enlarged the image, as it eerily stretched across the screen, and the unsightly thing was positively there. But what was it? Could this be what was waiting for Ethan Messenger? The man died, so did it give up? He didn’t think so, since he was now seeing whatever the creature is now, with one exception it always appeared indirectly. But why was it after him, and why now? Brody gave an unsure look, suggesting something might be there, but it was too indefinite to be certain. Zayne at least had hope that someone believed him; nevertheless there were too many unanswered questions. Like why the strange