Not sure where this came from. I just wanted to try something different. Suspense and horror are not easy to create. Anyways, enjoy.
It was late in the morning but morning coffee flavor still laid heavy on my tongue. The night before was long with images and videos being studied. I didn’t believe in the afterlife and I guess that’s what made it so easy to investigate people claims.
Years behind the camera, lurking in dusty, dirty basements, crawling through cluttered attics. Always an explanation. I never had a moments doubt that there was some, at times far reaching but sensible in reality, explanation. But this time it was different. The story didn’t mesh. The image didn’t make sense.
The last investigation was a few days prior.
The woman was 22. A student at the local community college. She was convinced it was an ex boyfriend that had passed away in an auto accident a few years prior.
“It tickles my toes in the middle of the night. No one knows about that tickle spot other than him. He’s here.”
I tried to assure her that there was an explanation for this. That there was a reason for all the activity. Bathroom doors were opening on their own, cabinets were being slammed. Activity was high by her description.
It all made sense to me. The doors, temperature changes. The building was old so within moments I felt confident about a few reasonable explanations. But the tickle part threw me. Until she completed her story.
It was Xmas night and she was pretty drunk. Sad from a recent break up, thinking of her previous ex, before the night he died. She went in to the bathroom around 2 am. She took one last shot of bourbon and started to ask for him to appear to her in the mirror. She said she was in there for what seemed like hours. She awoke the morning hugging the bathtub and covered in sweat and tears. She put the night before as a bad Xmas eve.
Soon afterwards she started to find cabinet doors wide open. She swears she would leave with everything shut and come home to find one or two open. A few nights later she awoke to what sounded like the bathroom door being slammed. But it was she left it before going to bed. Slightly open. She was convinced she wasn’t getting enough sleep.
Then she started waking up to a tickling sensation.
“I hate to be tickled”, she said.
An ex found her spot. He would wake her up in the middle of the night by tickling her toes. She used to wake up screaming at him. But after he died she really missed it. A few months later they broke up. He died shortly after that.
Everything has a reason. Faulty heating. Old,uneven cabinets. Everything has a reason. But the tickling? It just didn’t mesh. That was until I discovered she has recently changed meds.
Her Bi-Polar disorder had always been under control until recently when she had to change dosage. A few weeks prior to Xmas actually. She never saw the cabinets open on their own. Was always awaken after hearing the bathroom door slam. Never felt the tickles while awake. After I read to her some of the side effects of the meds with alcohol, how the interaction can affect her stability. Well she was able to breathe a little better.
So here I am sitting in my bed a few days later. Flavor of coffee still on my tongue, the news playing in the background. And a man standing before me in the mirror, starring back at me. Intensely.
He’s grey with black gums. His eyes have no color.
What am I experiencing? Am I drunk? Meds? I can see my breath in a cloud before me-
My right hand is starting to tremble. What’s happening to me?