Haunted

Decorating A Haunted Office

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He hangs the decoration, a scrap of white with a face facsimile adorning the lumpy top, and then shifts his ladder five feet to hang another. They do not match his vision, but they match his wallet. He pauses, steps away, and returns, shifting the decoration once listed as “hanging ghost” half a foot away. He might not take pride in the look of the thing, but he takes pride in the look of them all. These imperfect pieces must be placed perfectly.

When he is done, the room is dark. Lights turned off to check the effect are now off in earnest. He cannot turn them on again. The building has gone dark while he labored, his coworkers gone and the thermostat set low for the night. There is no one left to see if his vision is visible amongst the clutter and decorations.

He takes one last look round before returning to this office and the one light he could turn back on after time turned them all off. He packs his things, glancing out at the bits of cloth and draped cotton that are visible from his drawing board, all while silently hanging his thoughts on the wall for another day. These mingled doubts, anxieties, and notes of pride will still be there tomorrow, when he can act on them. He does not need them now.

When he is gone, the decorations battle the scant airflow of the greater office, fighting to stay where he placed them. They were not made with pride or care, but they were placed with an abundance of both and what little power they have will be spent to show everyone else the vision he so carefully cultivated: a room haunted in truth by the death of a dream no one supported.

Grief Taken Nightmare Form Has Invaded My Dreams Of Late

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I’ve had a weird and entirely discomforting thing happen a few times over the last couple months. While having fairly normal dreams (and the word “normal” is doing a lot of work here because I tend to either not remember my dreams, feel them so strongly that the emotions from them color my entire day, or have horrible nightmares), a cast of charactes from a past dream have invaded and changed the very nature of the dream they arrive in. You see, a few months back, in late April, I had a dream about defeating a horrible warlock. It was a pretty typical fantasy story dream, with a cast of adventurers on my team as we did stuff I don’t remember that eventually culminated in taking down an evil spellcaster who was trying to perform some kind of ritual that would give him some kind of ascendant power (I’m pretty sure it was immortality). This warlock had a crew of misfit-type underlings that we were mostly able to bypass as we went in for the kill. As I struck the head from this vile sorcerer, the mooks we’d bypassed swore undying revenge on me, specifically, but I woke up pretty much right after that so I didn’t think much of it.

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Horror Movie

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He knew his apartment did not have a good setup for horror movies, but he couldn’t resist them. His couch only fit in the living room with its back to the rest of the apartment and the room was too narrow for other chairs. Even the constant creaking of floors and the furtive sounds of movement whispering through his walls couldn’t convince him of his folly. Attendance at his viewing parties had dwindled after he moved here and now he watched horror movies alone.

He was used to surround sound from his old apartment, so he didn’t notice that not all of the sounds were coming from his home theater until the first thing fell off his counter. After fixing the mug’s handle the following morning, he kept a closer eye on his kitchen and a closer ear on the sounds of his apartment. He took careful note of every sound made by the neighbors and wrote down every creak of walls as the building shifted in the wind.

The following movie night, he was ready. It was a zombie flick he’d seen before, but he picked it because it had always sounded fake to him. As the movie went on, he noted every noise that came from behind him, glancing over his shoulder for the source. He saw a pan hanging beneath his cabinets shift in the still apartment air and noted that as well.

For three weeks, he took notes. At the start of the fourth movie, he shifted so he was sitting on the floor in front of the couch. He had his notebook ready, but he heard nothing from behind him. Once the movie was over, as he headed off toward his bathroom and bed, he heard something new.

Thanks for moving.