Dark Wandering

He found himself staring at the darkened ceiling. How long had he been in this state? He last saw the numbers “22:38” on the clock on his side-table before he closed his eyes. Now it informed him that it was a few minutes past midnight.

Did something in his dream cause him to wake up? No, nothing exciting had happened. He saw an avenue, he was walking with Eve, and there were people passing by. But that’s it.

Strange. What had awoken him? He didn’t feel the urge to visit the loo, but his throat felt parched. He contemplated on shutting his eyes and remain in bed, and that was the only option he could think of at the moment.

So he did. But the dream didn’t return. All he saw was blackness.

After a while of no success, he shifted position in bed. Sideways, the other sideways, on his back, then back to sideways. He glanced at the clock again, only to find that it was almost one in the morning.

One in the morning. What was going on? Was it because he was stressed out by today’s commission? He had been trying to perfect a fold pattern for a dress the whole afternoon, and he’d lost count of the times he had lost the needle amidst the folds. Thankfully, he didn’t skewer any of his fingers, but the panic from not knowing where his needle was made his heart race in terror. Every. Single. Time.

The parched throat was making it difficult to sleep, for it pained with every breath he took. It didn’t take long for him to concede, getting off of his bed as quietly as he could so he could sneak towards the door.

Elvard was a light sleeper, but Filmore knew how to get about without causing a ruckus. All he needed was a pair of slippers that Vivi got for him last festive season, and he would be sneaking about at a leisurely pace, without a single care for the world.

At the door to the corridor, he hesitated when he realised how dark it was. Right, only his room had a nightlight. So he returned for his phone on his worktable and went to the kitchen, keeping his hand steady as he avoided any trip hazards.

This place looked so different in the dark. Edges of their furniture gleamed like blades. The carpet resembled moss, enough to make him slow his pace in case he were to slip, even though a part of him knew that it would never happen.

Then why was he afraid of the shadows below the coffee table?

It was only a coffee table with a glass top. There was a messy stack of magazines on one end, and an abandoned mug on the other (it belonged to Elvard). The bottom of the mug looked higher than it should be. There was some sort of viscous ichor that his friend had been sipping throughout their movie night with Vivi.

Seeing it deepened his frown. This was unacceptable.

With utmost care, he delivered the mug into the kitchen, so he may have it cleaned and ready to use in the morning. He left his phone screen-down on the counter, so the light shone upwards and illuminated enough for him to see what he was doing.

After pouring its contents down the drain, he proceeded to scrub the silt-like residue off of the bottom of the mug. A quick rinse did the trick, followed by a brief scrubbing. It was one thing to only know how to grill things, it’s another to not do the dishes. He’d have to bring this up over breakfast with Elvard again, for it’s only a matter of time that he would remember to do-

There was tapping behind him, as if someone had rapped their fingers on the table.

What could’ve made such a noise? Was it a rat? A lizard? He decided against thinking further, finishing his task so he could head back to his bed as quickly as possible.

When he turned around, he froze. Had the doorway always been this dark? No matter how he looked, he couldn’t see the silhouette of any furniture, even if he held his phone-light at it.

That’s when he remembered why he’d come out. He felt for a mug from the same drawer, filled it till he felt a chilling splash on his foot, downed its contents in one go, washed it, dried it, and returned it to the drawer again.

Throughout the process, he never took his eyes off of the dark portal.

He held his phone up to see if it was a trick of the light. No reflection, just darkness. Complete, utter darkness. How, how was this possible?

His back rested upon the edge of the countertop, wondering what he should do in the face of this unbroken screen. There was nothing to be scared about, yet he didn’t want to leave this place. He could grab a seat, but to do so meant approaching the darkness, and he didn’t want to go near the darkness.

Calm down, Filmore, calm down. He isn’t a kid anymore. He’s a grown man who’s faced a couple of terrors and monsters with his friends and survived. Nothing new here.

But the darkness. How did it come to be? More importantly, could he sleep in the kitchen without a lanky gnarly arm reaching out to grab him? Every time that he blinked, he was worried that something would appear. He’d make quick glances to his sides to make sure nothing had appeared.

Something told him that he shouldn’t take his eyes off of the darkness. But his body yearned for sleep, his eyelids threatening to droop over his vision, to allow the boogeyman to make their appearance.

He shook his head at the final thought. No, the boogeyman isn’t real. He’s fended off an arachnid monstrosity and a ghostly chaplain once. They were far terrifying than-

There it goes again. That methodical, calculated rapping.

He froze. He slowed his breathing, hoping that it would make him less visible to whatever was making that noise.

He needed something. He felt for something on the countertop, eventually feeling the coarse dry texture of a rag. That was enough. It wasn’t his towel, but it’ll do.

Now there was a decision to make. He could theoretically play it safe and remain in the kitchen till the sun rises, but what if the boogeyman decided to enter the kitchen to get him? More importantly, what if the boogeyman decided to go for Elvard instead?

He can’t stay here. He had to find a way back to the bedroom, but the looming darkness looked imposing. He decided to test it by flicking the rag at it, inching silently towards it until he was within striking distance. But when he tried that, the rag simply vanished into the dark, and it came out without any altercation.

Was it safe to stick his hand into this? It’s tempting, but he didn’t fancy the idea of something taking a bite out of it. He’s watched enough horror movies to know what could happen, but Elvard could be in the grasp of this boogeyman. 

Only one way to find out. With a deep breath, he stood before the dark mirror with his back straight.

He stepped into the dark, and found himself swallowed by the dark.

The light of his phone was extinguished. He could still feel it in his grasp, but he couldn’t see. He held his hands before his eyes. He knew that his hands were in front of his eyes. He just couldn’t see them.

He mustn’t stay in the dark. He tried to find his way back to the kitchen by reversing his steps, but he was still in the dark. He’d only taken two steps into the dark, and yet he hasn’t seen the light in… more than ten steps?

What is this?

Then he heard it. Initially he’d thought that it was his panicked breathing, but come think of it, he hasn’t heard his own footsteps since entering the dark. And the breathing came from behind his ears.

It was heavy.

He screamed, but there was no sound. So he ran, ignoring the possibility that he would trip over the furniture and items in the living room. But his hooves hadn’t come into contact with anything, which was good, because he needed to get away from… whatever that was.

Time was a distant memory in this realm. By now, he felt like he’d ran from one end of this street to the other several times, enough to meet Elvard’s weekly quota.

His knees begged him to stop. But what if the boogeyman was right behind him, having stayed at arm’s length from its grasp this whole time?

No, he shouldn’t. He must keep running, so he could hopefully make it out of the dark.

A hand caught his wrist.

He screamed, only to be hushed by a familiar voice. That’s when he opened his eyes to find his gryphon friend glaring daggers at him.

“Filly,” she said rather sternly in a hushed tone, her other hand resting upon her hip. “What are you doing?”

He could see again. He glanced about, looking about the living room as if it was his first time seeing the place again, many years back. And there was Vivienne, in her baby blue sleeping gown with her similarly-coloured nightcap resting between her ears. But her brows were furrowed. 

“Will you please explain yourself?”

He looked down at himself, making sure that he came out in one piece. Then he cheered, throwing his arms around his friend and squeezed an alarmed cry out of her. It wasn’t until he had released then held her by the shoulders that he asked, “What happened?”

“I was about to ask the same,” she replied, shrugging his hands off so she may cross her arms and pout. “Why were you running against the wall? You looked as if you were trying to crash through it.”

“How long had I been doing that?” he asked, leaning against the wall as he examined the distance between where he stood and the kitchen doorway. It’s only a few steps.

“I came as soon as I heard the running. That was… over half an hour ago?”

“That can’t be. I was running for only a while.”

“Were you sleepwalking? Well, sleep-running?”

“No, it’s… I’ve been hearing a strange sound since I left my bedroom. I thought it was the building, but the more that I heard it, the more it sounded like someone running their fingers like this. It’s as if they were patiently waiting for me to do something, but I can’t see them and I don’t know what do they want from me.”

She looked incredibly sceptical, pouting as she leaned sideways on her sound leg. That changed in a flash when the rapping noise happened again. Her eyes went wide in alarm, ears perked and keen for its source.

“That’s the noise,” he explained, searching the room too.

It happened again. He saw Vivienne move from the corner of his eyes, and he caught her by the wrist from going far.

“We should investigate it,” she reasoned. “It could just be a house lizard trying to find a place to sleep.”

“You wouldn’t say that if you didn’t see this.” He pointed at a wall of shadows down the corridor, where his bedroom should’ve been.

The gryphon was awe-struck, blinking several times as if to reassure herself that she wasn’t imagining things. She tilted her head curiously at the phenomenon, approaching it slowly, breaking free from his grasp so that she could get a better look.

He stayed behind her, warning her that they should stay away. But she wouldn’t listen. There was a look in her eyes that he was all too familiar with, one that would’ve required Eve to convince her to flee with them. Nothing that he’d said had an effect on her.

She stopped a two steps from the wall of shadows. She glanced up, then down, then stuck her metal foot into the shadows.

“Please don’t go in,” he said into her ear, keeping a firm grip on her shoulders to hold her in place. To his surprise, he felt her leaning against him, using him as a counter-balance for what he now realised as one of her unorthodox experiments.

When she pulled her prosthesis out of the wall of shadows, he saw an amused look on her features. She stepped away on her own, and he gladly followed in suit.

A question was about to escape her open beak when they heard it. It wasn’t a rapping noise. This one sounded like a guttural laugh.

“Did you hear that?” she asked, but her shivers betrayed her fear.

He nodded. He was the first to inch away from the dark wall, trying to pull her away. She didn’t budge initially, but she eventually went along with him.

What they heard next sent them fleeing into the kitchen.

They kept their backs to the walls as they caught their breaths, eyes fixated on the doorway. In an effort to calm them down, Vivienne prepared two mugs of steaming hot chocolate. It wasn’t until she sat down did Filmore look at her questioningly. She shrugged back.

Not that he would complain. His throat was coarse, his mind numb. He wanted to sleep. This warm drink was all he needed to take his mind away from the horror in the dark.

“What did you see in there?”

He cracked an eye open to find the terrified gryphon looking at him. Her head was positioned so she could glance at the doorway quickly without turning her head, but her pupils were gazing into his glazed eyes.

So he told her. He told her of the never-ending darkness that awaited her if she’d entered the portal, how she would be deafened by an unknown spell, chased by an unseen entity.

“And yet, taking hold of your hand while you were in a trance broke you free.”

“I wish I knew why,” he concluded, hanging his head over the mug as he shook it.

He wondered what could’ve happened to him if she hadn’t taken hold of his wrist. Maybe he would’ve been running in the dark forever, stopping only when he succumbed to either exhaustion or hunger.

Then what? Would the monster eviscerate him? Drain him dry of his overworked life? Dismember him piece-by-piece, savour in his agony over a long period of time?

No, he shouldn’t be thinking of this at this hour. There was work to be done, and he can’t let nightmares ruin his beauty sleep.

It soon came to his attention that Vivienne hadn’t said anything in a while. He looked up to find her gazing into the curling wisps of her cooling hot chocolate, as if she was divining a prophecy.

“You sleep,” he announced, downing the rest of his mug in one go. Upon setting it down, he added, “I’ll keep watch.”

With her eyes shut, she shook her head. “No thanks. We need to figure a way past this… darkness, and make sure that Elvard is safe.”

Right, Elvard. He’d forgotten about him. “So you’re suggesting that we run into the wall of darkness?”

“It’s better than to sleep in the kitchen, and neither of us would do that.”

“Alright, we’ll do it your way. But we would have to hold hands in the dark, so we’d never lose sight of each other.”

She nodded without hesitation, then finished her drink so that Filmore could clean them. That was Vivienne’s idea, for he would’ve done the chore in the morning, after they had ensured Elvard’s safety. But no, she would not let him go until he had cleaned them. Thus, he had to comply to her demand before they can approach the wall of darkness and confront its mysterious denizen.

In honesty, he didn’t want to go into that space again. What if the boogeyman decided to play a new trick on them, one that could make their escape difficult, or worse, fateful? He wanted to convince the gryphon that this was a bad idea, and they should just sleep at her unit instead. But words failed him, unable to utter anything comprehensible as they neared the wall.

It hadn’t moved since they fled from it. He was worried that something might shoot out of it, but he couldn’t risk Vivienne’s safety. He kept her behind him, wishing that he hadn’t boasted about being chivalrous on their first investigation together, many years back. That was a long time ago-

“Greetings.”

They froze. He could hear his heart drum against his chest. Her hands tightened on his arms, followed by a whimper.

That guttural laugh came again.

“My sincerest of apologies. Have I scared you? I assumed you were prepared.”

They now stood abreast to each other, exchanging glances without taking their eyes off of the wall. With a gulp, Vivienne squeaked, “Who are you?”

“A watcher. But if you want a name, Sebastian would do nicely. I like that name.”

“What do you want?”

“I had come with the intention to be amused.”

From the shadows came a violet bolt with a fading trail. It glided slowly towards the frozen pair, who were slowly retreating. Then, it zipped around them several times in the blink of an eye. It had drawn circles around them, one that they eventually realise prevented them from moving any further.

The bolt paused before his face, aiming its pointed arrow-like head between his eyes. He held his breath, worried that any sudden moves would cause it to drill through his head. He could hear Vivienne choking on her sobs, having wrapped herself in her wings to avoid the potentially grisly sight.

He didn’t want to die. But he also didn’t want Vivienne to be harmed. How could he convince this entity to let them go? They had nothing.

In the midst of his search for an answer, he’d forgotten that he needed air. He gasped, huffing and puffing for breath.

The bolt, on the other hand, whizzed away from him, and there was that guttural laugh again. It even bobbed in rhythm to its laugh.

“You’re awfully brave. All is well, for I do not claim lives.”

“This isn’t funny! All I wanted was a glass of water, and you think it’s funny to drop me into your dark realm and threaten my life with this purple arrow? You’ve made her cry too! I demand that you leave now!”

Instead of a reply, the dark wall dissipated with the violet bolt and its trails. A door was open, and at its doorway was a sleepy Elvard, staring at the two ludicrously under heavy eyelids. As he rubbed his eye, he mumbled, “What’s going on?”

Words fail to describe the relief that washed over Filmore, slumping onto the ground with his arms behind him to keep him from sleeping on the floor. Vivienne had sunk onto her knees beside him, still sobbing into her hands.

“What happened?” asked Elvard, crouching next to her so he could pat her reassuringly.

“Take her inside. We’ll explain in the morning. I’m done.”