to myself. The closest that I had ever gotten to having a friend was when I met this girl, Emiko. She was only a little shorter than I was, with shoulder-length, jet-black hair and a nice smile. She was the only kid that ever talked to me. She came in midsemester and was only there for a couple of weeks. Her dad was a wealthy businessman; and her family was always traveling. I hadn’t seen her since then. The last day that I talked to her, she was talking about Christianity and how God is all around.
She said, “God is everywhere. He watches over us and protects us. It doesn’t matter that you do bad things. He still loves you.”
I didn’t really understand what she was talking about at the time. I just thought that God dwelled in churches and only cared if you followed the rules of the church and stuff. I didn’t really give it much thought.
Once I got to high school, you’d think people would mature, and that I would have made more friends. Nope. I was a senior in high school and things had stayed pretty much the same; except I had the highest ranking you can get on all first-person shooter games. There I was: six foot one, eighteen years old, sitting in my school gym eating lunch.
The gym was dimly lit, with only a few large hanging light fixtures. I had my smartphone out listening to one of my favorite hardcore bands. No one was in the gym; it was just me—alone—again. I tried sitting in the lunchroom a couple of times, but no matter who was sitting around me, food always found a way to hit me. And the last time I was in there, one of the jocks thought that it would be funny to shoot peas through a straw from ten feet away, with me as the target.
I was getting tired of the abuse, so I calmly picked up some of the peas and put them on my food tray. I got up with my tray and walked over to him. “I think you dropped some of your peas.”
The guy had blonde, spiked hair, brown eyes, and earrings. He was wearing a golden football shirt, some dark-blue jeans, and flip-flops. “No, I didn’t.” He looked around the table at his friends and laughed.
“Yes, you did, and I think you should have them back.” As I said that, I used my cafeteria tray like a baseball bat and smashed him across the face. As I made contact, the tray bent and broke in half under the force. The dude’s body fell out of the chair and hit the concrete floor.
I found out later that I fractured his nose. I was somewhat disappointed that I didn’t fully break it off or anything. At least no one messed with me after that. So I decided it was best for me to find somewhere secluded to eat lunch; and the gym, so far, had been the best choice.
As I was sitting on the bleachers, a finger reached for my left earbud. I felt a sudden tap on my headphones. I looked up and no one was around. The atmosphere felt heavy. I took my headphones out and searched for what caused this feeling. I saw nothing but dark shadows in parts of the room.
After lunch, I headed back to class. I sat down at my uncomfortable, hard plastic desk and put my head down with my arms folded. The teacher ignored me and went on with her teaching for the last class. I started to drift off to sleep when I heard a voice that whispered, “Are you ready to die yet?” I was jolted awake and yelled a little bit. The whole class turned and looked at me.
The teacher stared at me and said very sarcastically, “I’m sorry, did I wake you?”
“No ma’am, I would never sleep in your class,” I very smartly said to Mrs. Mahler.
The class chuckled a little. She looked away and continued with the class, pretending I didn’t say anything. I couldn’t get over the voice. I felt like someone was inches away from my ear and whispering to me.
The bell rang; everyone collected their things and headed out the door. I made my way down the hall, through the courtyard to the other side of the school where the music room was located. My parents thought that I needed to do something productive and creative with my life, so they had forced me into the after-school arts program. I had a choice between drama, dance, or learning an instrument. I opted for one-on-one instruction with Mr. Bryans for guitar. He was a nice guy and very knowledgeable about music. He reminded me of the nerdy KFC guy. The white hair and beard made him look older than he really was though. I’d only been working with him for a few months, but I’d learned a lot of basic stuff. After that day’s lesson was over, I grabbed my backpack and guitar and headed to the bus lane for the activities bus.
Oh, crap! Just then I realized I had left my lunch box in the gym. As I made my way through the lime-green hallways, I started to notice something. Around each corner of the walls, I saw shadows.
Maybe those stupid lamps are busted, I tried to reassure myself. The shadows seemed to move where and when I moved. As I took each step, I heard the movement grow nearer. It was like someone had closed a door; except every time that I looked over my shoulder, no one was there. Whoosh! I heard a small gust of what sounded like wind.
“What the hell are you?” I yelled.
There was no reply. I was only answered by the strange looks of the janitors and some of the kids waiting for the late bus.
The shadows began to fade.
“Thank God.” I sighed in relief.
Then I began to hear something, like somebody sharpening a knife or the gnashing of teeth. It was a grating sound and it seemed to get louder and louder as I neared the final right turn into the gymnasium.
I approached the doors to the gym and they swung open with relative ease. The gym was empty and deserted. Unlike the rest of the school, at this hour, the gym was dark. The stadium lights were off, and the basketball hoops were put up for the night. I noticed my lunch box sitting on the bleachers. I walked towards the bleachers to retrieve it.
“Are you ready to die?”
I was just about to pick up my lunch box; my hands were almost wrapped around it. I felt a sudden surge of fear and absolute terror run up my spine. I barely managed to utter, “Huh?”
“Yes you, Owen.”
I gulped.
“Nobody will miss you anyways. Everyone thinks you are crazy. What’s the point of your pitiful and meaningless existence?”
“Excuse me?”
“But what would I know? I’m not even there.”
“Yeah, you’re not real.” I pointed into the thin air in front of me.
“How about now?” I could hear the voice coming from right behind me. I could feel the creature breathing down my neck. I whip my whole body around to see nothing.
“You’re not real!” I shouted.
“Oh, I am very real.” The creature jumped out in front of me. Its fur was gray and matted, like it hadn’t groomed itself in several weeks. It had fangs that were very large and yellow. It looked like a werewolf with a crazed look in its eyes. Its dingy fur was tinged crimson red, like blood near the tips. The creature had an odor about it, not like the cleaning products used in the gym—like a cesspool. The creature opened its mouth wider, exposing its teeth and further spreading the smell. “You can’t escape me.”
I fell to the ground and hunched over. “You aren’t real. You aren’t real. You aren’t real!”
“I am real. But who is going to believe you? Everyone thinks you are crazy—and you are.”
