Dietre Abendroth (dietre) wrote in genome_project, @ 2010-08-03 20:24:00 |
|
|||
Entry tags: | august 2010 |
Who: Dietre and Mari.
What: Dietre's powers get real.
When: Tuesday night/morning.
Where: In front of the Abendroth residence.
Rating: Moderate for blood?
Status: In-Progress
Dietre couldn't sleep. It wasn't that he didn't feel tired, he did. ...No, not merely tired, he was exhausted, terribly so. But his brain refused to shut down. He had tried tea, lavender scented oils, warm baths, meditation...Nothing worked. But how could he sleep? How could he, when there were things in his room? Knowing things. Watching things. He could feel them in the dark, waiting.
He lay flat on his back, stubbornly trying to keep his eyes on the ceiling above him. Don't look. He grew weak as time went by, fear growing in his gut. He couldn't help it, he glanced to the side. There. A strange shape, a subtle movement. Something pale, like naked, unhealthy skin. Crouching. No. That's only that white shirt hung over the chair. Nothing else. He quickly looked away, frozen, trying to convince himself that nothing was there, that it was his imagination.
The sick part of him refused to be convinced. He could feel cold sweat break out on his skin, his heartbeat quickening with dread. He looked again, it was as though some unknown power forced his eyes to move, and this time it certainly was not a shirt. A figure sat hunched like a gargoyle, bony humps underneath its gray skin, its limbs disproportionately long, all tucked in against itself. It's face was hidden, hung low, behind its protruding shoulders. But slowly, that sick, unnatural crawl that only could happen in dreams, it began to lift its head. When it turned to face him, Dietre saw it had no eyes, it was a strange, horribly featureless mask, skin pulled taunt over a misshapen skull. No lips, only teeth. Those teeth!
Dietre snapped his eyes shut, a low miserable moan escaping him. It's not real! Not real! When he opened his eyes again, he told himself, it would be gone. "You're not real..." His voice shook, his eyes squeezed shut, "...Just a shirt...Just a shirt on a chair..." He only thought something was there because he hadn't taken his medicine. Yes. When he opened his eyes, it'd be gone. And he would open his eyes. On the count of three.
One... He could hear the blood rushing in his ears. Two... He held his breath. Three! His eyes opened wide, and it seemed whatever it was sitting there had been waiting for that moment. Dietre opened his eyes to see the twisted creature leap up from its crouch, flying towards him. It's not real!! But it was. He felt the mattress sink as its weight hit it, and then he was jumping up, throwing himself out of the bed to get away. For a second he was caught on something, there was a sharp pain in his side, but he pulled desperately forward and was suddenly released as he heard his shirt rip.
What happened next he didn't quite remember. He ran through the house, it was like he flew, he couldn't feel if his feet touched the floor. Somehow he found himself stumbling outside, coming to a stop in the middle of the street as he turned to stare at the front door, left wide open with only blackness inside. Was it following him? He stood frozen save for the heaving of his chest, completely unaware that there was blood dripping onto the top of his bare feet. He was beyond feeling pain. All he knew was the great black rectangle, and what might come out of it.