TALES FROM SAN GABRIEL: Vol. 2
"Cracks in the Eyes"
Life can make nightmares feel like a dream worth having, and sometimes in those dreams the only thing we find ourselves wanting is to have another chance for us to wake up.
Johann grumbled making noises in bed, before his eyes snapped open, exhaling quickly a breath of air, before trying to pull in air again. He sat up trying to force air into his lungs, to get over the helplessness, he waited for the feeling to be released. He woke up each time the dreams happened. Those moments marked the beginning of an ordeal. Moving around slowly in the dark, he began to dress, piss, shower, take some pills, until finally he was able to sip on black coffee at his desk. He looked at financial documents, scrolling through news, as he monitored the situation that morning.
At first, the crimes just seemed like arson and random violence, the news just reported the fires were from the dry season and climate change. But, something was wrong. These people would appear in the night with a strange look in their eyes. Anyone that saw them would be taken and have been missing ever since. The only videos online showed live streams of people recording them coming out at night to wreak havoc. The people of the streets have almost entirely vanished.
. . .
That day was crisp and fresh. The air bit at your skin and the breeze became frigid which took away any warmth. Johann found himself standing at a bus stop unmoored looking through his phone. The bus pulled up and broke the silence when the breaks hissed. The station now flooded with the rumble of feet atop the floorboard which ached, moaned, and creaked under the pressure. A cadence of people blended in the sounds of San Francisco and the chatter of departed guests. That month was colder than usual. Nothing changed for him except the dreams became more frequent. His fingers kept swiping right, frantically, trying to find the next body to hold onto. Delicate chirps drifted in and out as air carried the sparrows onto and off the power lines outside the window of his apartment building. That sunday the air spirited away anything good left behind. The earth shivered and shook the rooms and buildings. Under pressure the cracks showed in his psyche, how desperately he tried to cope with decisions, and how limited his options were now.
A quick exchange with a woman on the bus demonstrated this to him that afternoon, at first he tried to be friendly and yet nothing. As cold as ice, he tried to be direct, but still dead on arrival. Yet, she responds to friends. These thoughts rattled in his mind as he struggled to come to a conclusion.
. . .
The doorbell rang over and over in triplets that morning. Her fingers crushed the doorbell button as fast as they could, and she pushed it in as far as it could go. She stood at the entrance of the apartment, lost in thought, racing, silently cursing. Her plight received some pity as another resident finally let her into the apartment complex. Summer scorched the earth and the heat of the sun had just begun to burn off the mist of dawn, so the sunlight gave everything a cold, bright, and sterile feeling in San Francisco. The light filled the streets like fluorescent bulbs bleaching the world in a white light. A cadence of footsteps echoed down the hall then filled the empty apartment with a soft click as the lock tumbled open…
“I thought you cared!” She screamed as the door slammed shut.
“What?” He screamed back getting ready to leave.
“Are you stupid or just pretending to not know now like you always do?” She waited.
“I told you, I had a meeting, you couldn’t be here during work… I don’t have time for this anymore. You need to go now. Get out of my apartment” His eyes met her eyes.
“You think you can throw me away like I am trash? Who was that?!” She cried.
He looked away.
She said, “I did what you wanted.”
Then the room got quiet. He looked away too.
“You can’t even look at me, monster!” She erupted.
“I’m going to be late for work.” He grabbed her wrist and pulled her toward the door.
“Don’t touch me.” She pulled herself out of his grasp as he tried to grab her.
She slammed the door on his hand as she ran, knocked a photo off the wall which broke as it hit the floor.
That night was darker than usual, howls echoed, dogs cried and stampeded through the tiny streets packed with rows of cars. A sound pierced through the chaos, sirens, broadcasts, you could feel whatever it was in your skull, so around 3:41 am everything went to Hell.
He felt like he was being drowned in black tar, boiled slowly, and consumed. Something deep within this particular man was broken, but it only manifested itself in his dreams. These pains which could only be described as if someone had flayed him open from neck to toe, skinning him like a deer, changed him now, wendigo. These dreams, which he saw nothing, were deafened like a silent film. He watched trapped inside himself as that hole got bigger, ripping him open from within. He completely disappeared into this feeling, like slipping between worlds, time was irrelevant now.
. . .
A loud thud came from the floor below. No doorbell, just a ceaseless rhythm. Candy, again? We hadn’t spoken in months. The noise behind the door was getting louder. That couldn’t be Candy. His eyes panicked and searched for any sign of light. Now, the cadence had erupted into a violent pounding. His fingers fumbled in the dark, angrily, he flicked the lamp light switch back and forth to no avail. He raced off the bed, still in pajamas, he scrambled across the floor of the dark room, and frantically searched for a way to defend himself. He found a metal flashlight which had fallen and managed to turn it on.
. . .
The air felt thick, heavy, and wet. A cry broke the silence. He looked out the window and watched the dark until he was stopped and stared at the window pane. She broke through the glass.
. . .
Instantly, debris sprayed everywhere which cut the silence. Blood dripped from his lesions and it was now barely visible to him. She reached her hands inside. Her laugh echoed out as her fingers curled around the broken edges of the window. She dug her nails into the wood as she pulled through the hole.
. . .
She caught his arm before it could even hit, and squeezed his forearm until it broke. His screams sounded like a dying animal. Her nails peeled away his forearm. She snapped, ripped, then pulled some of his arm off the bone effectively removing his appendage and created a sharp stump. He made a wet sound as she dropped him to the floor.
. . .
The stale white light filled the kitchen as a dark liquid spread around the room. What’s left of the man now convulsed on the floor, violently, changing. She towered over him. Her fingers floated until they came across a photo lying face down on the counter top. A substance dripped from her eyes still soaked from bits of meat and blood. She stared before her feet crushed the glass that littered the room. Her bloodied footsteps marked the floor as she pushed through the locked door, which fell in an instant, freeing her.
. . .
His eyes now cracked open. A new vessel to see the world. The pools underneath him now a solid black. He wandered into the bathroom of the apartment and looked at the reflection of a creature he no longer recognized. A black liquid dripped from his eyes as it got under his skin now too, trembling. He lifted the broken arm, and he screamed helplessly as he slammed the stump into the mirror. Blood splattered itself about the painted room as he tried desperately to go back and wake up from this nightmare.
. . .
He struggled to breathe; he choked on the liquid filling his lungs as it splattered everywhere each breath. He tore apart anything in front of him frantically searching. The substance flowed out of his eyes which appeared now as cracks in his face. His eyes now wildly searched for the memories, which began to rapidly fade away and gave way to an excruciating pain that overtook everything.
Finally, his fingers found what they were searching for and wrapped around a bloody photo, which crumbled inside of his fist. Violently trembling, he tried to scream, he was never going to wake up. He dropped the photo of a man with a child on his shoulders and a woman as he lost control. The squelching could be heard from outside the building as he ran into the darkness of the streets below screaming a name
.