Blythe

When Blythe was young, he would stay awake for days on end. He'd fight the inevitable feeling of sleep that hung to his eyelids, weighing them down. He wouldn’t tell anyone why. Others thought him to be odd, disobedient and stubborn. They saw a child fighting expectations and authority, but Blythe was a child fighting something far more terrifying. 

Each time Blythe finally succumbed to the dark shroud of sleep, it was restless, agonizing. He’d lay, frozen, fully aware but helpless, out of control of his own body. And he was always there watching. He’d slink in the shadows, crawl up the crevices of corners, hang from the disappearing moonbeams on the ceiling. Sometimes, he’d get close. Run his fingers across the trim of Blythe’s blanket, pulled up to his nose. Blythe would try to whimper, scream, but nothing ever happened. It could be hours before Blythe was able to take a gasping breath, swing his legs over the bed and fly to the light switch to scare him away. He would never show up in the light, only in the cover of night. 

Blythe suffered for years like this. Constantly fighting sleep, living in a constant state of fear, wondering when the next time he would fail to be strong enough to stay awake would occur. He was barely able to function, his mind was numb from sleep, and the only thoughts that raced through his head were the thoughts of him. He struggled day after day to survive this exhaustion and fear. 

Finally, Blythe decided to go to a therapist and talk about him. He had never told anyone about him before, or his fears and struggles. The therapist educated him on sleep paralysis, and the concept of sleep paralysis demons. Blythe sat in silence, his mind racing. It was real, he wasn’t crazy or losing his mind, he was normal. Others suffered the same unfortunate fate as he did. He felt flooded with relief, overcome with emotions. His therapist suggested he write about his experiences, to not only solidify them for himself and accept his reality, but to share with others who understand him and could offer their own insight. 

Immediately after his session, Blythe sat down with a pen and a journal and wrote furiously for hours. 

Who is more afraid?

I, helpless, braving the sights of

Him, powerful, yet slinking in the crevices

Hardly ever daring to get close enough

To touch

His amber eyes glow

My blues reflecting the sky I so deeply wish 

Would save me

He is in complete control

And yet he shows fear

In his own ways

He is afraid

Of the bravery I hold

Deep within

To face him when the candlelight fades

I may be helpless

But he is afraid

Blythe wrote poem after poem about him. Feeling stronger and more powerful with each line. 

That night, Blythe felt a bravery and a control he had never known before. He was ready to face him. He wanted to have few restraints, less distractions, corners and shadows. He went out and laid down in the open grass. Now living in Verulia, Blythe had a small cabin surrounded by woods and nature. He felt this was the perfect place to confront him. He laid down, entwining his paws in the grass, feeling as though he may be sucked up by the giant sky. The stars twinkled down at him, offering their support, as thought they were watching and protecting him. He watched as their lights went out which each sleepy blink, until, finally, he was asleep.

His eyes opened. He couldn’t move, but he didn’t feel as heavy this time. It took him a moment to find him. At first he thought maybe he had escaped him, somehow. Maybe the openness of the wilderness was too vast for him to take shape. But soon enough he saw the amber eyes glowing from behind a tree. He clung to the shadow of the tree, barely visible. Blythe lay still, holding his gaze for a long time. He slowed his mind, he calmed the fear still rising within him. Finally, he breathed. His mouth slowly opened. He tried to speak a few times, but no sound escaped him. Finally, “I am not afraid.” 

It was more to himself than the demon. “I am not afraid.” He uttered again, stronger, more confident, staring into the amber eyes. The eyes blinked. He moved to the front of the tree, moving slowly, his movements distorted and unfluid. Blythe watched him move closer. “I will not fear you anymore. If we must exist together, we will do it in peace and understanding.” Blythe was shocked by his own words, did he really believe this? The demon grew closer again, Blythe scrunched his eyes shut, it had been years since he had gotten this close, when Blythe was still quite young. He heard rusting next to him, then silence. Blythe slowly opened his eyes and saw, just out of the corner of his eye, that he was lying next to him. 

“I am afraid.” The demon spoke. “I am trapped here, in this plane, in this existence. You are the only other being I have ever seen. But you are not like me. You are different. You disappear when the light comes. I am always here.” Blythe laid in silence, stunned, processing. 

His body still heavy, seemingly unmovable, he moved only his mouth. “You do not have to be afraid of me.” Blythe whispered. “I do not wish you harm. I only wish for a peaceful sleep.” The demon breathed. His breath felt cold, like an icy wind. “I try to keep you here.” He said quietly. “I weigh you down, hold you still, and yet you always escape. You do not come often. I do not want to be alone.” Blythe was shocked. They misunderstood each other so much. “Can you let me go, and trust I will not leave yet?” Blythe asked the demon. Suddenly, his body was light, his limbs back under his own control. 

He slowly sat up. The demon, too, arose. “I do not want to be afraid here. And I do not want you to be afraid.” Blythe said, reaching a paw out to the demon's hand. His paw fell right through the shape before him. “I can come more often, if you do not trap me. I am afraid of being helpless.” Blythe explained to him. “If I do not trap you, you can escape faster.” He whispered, averting his piercing amber eyes. “I am not escaping,” Blythe started to explain. “I am simply awakening. Each sleep brings me here to you, and each morning awakens me. I will always have to come back.” The demon suddenly stood and jerkily ran off into the woods. Blythe was confused, hurt. He sat for what seemed hours, waiting, watching, listening. Suddenly, the shadows glowed a bright amber. He saw him emerge from the darkness. “I have brought you a piece of my world. So you always come back.” He whispered. 

He held out his hands, and in them were feathers of an unearthly blue, nothing like Blythe had ever seen on a creature in Solaria. He took them, gently, looking in awe at them. “I promise I will always return here to you, and I will never forget.” Blythe whispered. 

He opened his eyes. The sun was peeking above pink and orange clouds. He sat up slowly, feeling his paw clutched in a fist. He opened it slowly and saw the feathers. It was real. He did not have to be afraid any longer. He could sleep, in peace, in an understanding with him. 

Moving forward, Blythe kept the feathers on him always. He published his book of poems about his demon. He is now working on a sequel, based on understanding and trust, not fear. He visits him often. They sit up and talk, play games, educate each other on their worlds. Blythe is still constantly exhausted, but not because he does not sleep. Because he spends his nights, awake.