A Terrifying Note
Elise woke abruptly, blinking and damp with sweat. She shook herself awake and was startled to find her hair was dripping; it smacked her face loudly and left a mark of perspiration. She took a deep breath and let her eyes adjust to the comforting dark of her bedroom, something felt different, and she reached over to her bedside table and flipped on the lam. Her hand flew back to her throat as she let out a sharp gasp, eyes wide in her face as she took in her vanity table, which instead of sitting upright on the floor was now on top of her dresser at an angle, her makeup and hair accessories still perfectly in place. She closed her eyes, thinking she must still be dreaming. The loud crash of her vanity falling over and all of its contents spilling out snapped her eyes back open and she screamed. The vanity settled itself back into it’s usually position, the mirror was foggy, like someone had breathed on it, and there was a perfect circle with a line through its center in the fog. She sat frozen with fear and watched as the image faded with the fog. When it was gone, she let out a choked breath that rapidly became hysterical sobbing. She cried until she fell again to an exhausted sleep.
She came to in the middle of the morning, and groaned. She had overslept, and she had a headache from the crying. She peered at her vanity, it looked like it should, and all of her make-up was back where it belonged. Slowly, she rose from her bed, relieved that her t-shirt fell away for her skin and did not cling wetly as she had feared it would. Taking a deep breath, she was reassured by the clean smell of the air, she went to look at her vanity. Everything was indeed back in its place, but all of her compacts were broken, every eye shadow was full of cracks, her lipsticks appeared to have melted out of their tubes. Hot tears welled in her brown eyes, it must have really happened. She ran from the room, and relieved her roiling stomach in the kitchen sink. Outside of her bedroom, things seemed calmer. She let the normalcy of her kitchen wash over her as the water ran her own mess down the drain. She knew she would have to go back in there, her clothes were in that room, her cell phone was charging by her bed, and her bathroom was also back there. Fuck. She would put it off as long as she could and have some breakfast.
As long as she could turned out to be about twenty minutes, she was cold, she had to pee and she needed to check in with her boss. She stood in the door frame, mentally chiding herself for being afraid to go in. She had had a freaky dream, nothing more. She clenched her first and quick-stepped through the room, grabbing her cell phone from the table and the suit she had pulled out the night before from the closet hook, not looking at her vanity, she entered the bathroom and shut the door. She arrived at work just after eleven in the morning, made her excuses and lost herself in the work, by the time she left for the day, she had forgotten all about the weird dream and the weird morning. A few after work drinks with friends turned into dancing until the bar closed, and when she returned home she sank into a blissful, dreamless sleep.
The next morning was Saturday, and Elise had a date. She took her time getting ready, soaking in a long, hot bath laced with oils, before showering and washing out her strawberry blonde curls. She sat wrapped in robe and towel at her vanity and began to select her makeup. She noted that none of it was broken, and smiled to herself. She opened her favorite blush and froze; there was a perfect circle with a line across the center etched into the compacted powder. She shivered. Staring at the blush, the symbol seemed familiar to her, not just from her crazy dream the other night either. She decided on a different shade and threw the blush in her trash can. She was not going to get caught up in a stupid nightmare.
They went to a jazz club downtown, Elise fell in love with the place instantly, it was a smoky, old school, piano bar kind of joint. The bartender was smooth and knowledgeable, the tables were comfortable and not too crowded, the food was incredible and the music! The music was out of this world, Roger danced with her and she found herself laughing and being pulled up on stage to sing with the band. She was terrible, but the crowd was gracious and she felt elated as she walked off stage. The Maître D handed her a copy of the sheet music for the song she had sang (Someone to Watch Over Me) and she saw a perfect circle with a line through the center, hanging out just belong the bottom line of the staff. Her skin flooded with goose flesh and she felt dizzy. She remembered the piano ringing out the note for her to start on, key of “c” they had said. Dimly she registered a ringing in her ears, the C note; she recognized it, as the sound became louder and steadier inside her head.
“Elise? Are you alright? You look like you’re going to be sick?” Rogers’s solicitations snapped her back to reality
“I’m fine, Roger. Just, I think it’s time you took me home.” was all she said
Back in her apartment, Elise was frozen in the hallway, hands pressed to her head as the ringing note pulsed, and getting louder to the point she thought she couldn’t bear it before it subsided and she remembered to breathe and then it grew again. She moaned, leaning on the wall for support. Her body trembled with each pulse of sound, and she whispered “Please.” over and over again, pleading with her head, with her apartment, with God, with the dead, with anything she could think of, whether she believed in it or not, to make the ringing stop. Finally, it subsided into a dull aching ring and she fell to her knees and crawled to her bed, burying her face in her pillow.
Her dreams were intense, she moaned in pleasure and her body moved in response. A hand ran up her thigh, lightly touching, leaving her skin tingling with anticipation, hot breath grazed over the skin of her neck and she arched her back, sharp nails made teasing trails over spine and then dug in. Her eyes popped open and she felt like she was screaming, but she couldn’t hear herself. The ringing started again, and the sharp nails drove deeper into her skin, blood welled and ran out of the wounds, the fingers began to move apart, widening the punctures, impossibly wide. She thrashed against the bed, searching frantically for her attacker, but she saw no one. The blood was pooling underneath her now and she became aware that the stabbing had stopped. She gasped, and was relieved to hear the sound. It was a momentary reprieve, as the nails now dug into her stomach; she looked down at the nothing that was tearing her open. Her skin was being peeled back, layer by layer, and her voice was gone again. Her face was twisted in pain and terror, but she couldn’t stop watching. She felt a sharp tug on her feet and her stare moved reflexively to look. She saw that her legs were twitching uncontrollably and her toes were being licked by a long red tongue. She could see the tongue, but not the face it belonged to. She registered that there must be more than one thing attacking her, there was no way anything could have a face at her feet and hands at her stomach. She looked back to her middle and could see her intestines now, and her ribs. The thing was tapping on her ribs; she felt the dull thudding of it colliding with her bone and then a sharp pain as the rib snapped, falling away from her sternum, she screamed silently and the tears that had never stopped, redoubled in her pain. With each break she convulsed, and she wondered why she was still awake, why hadn’t she passed out or died already? She felt a mouth on her neck, kissing her up onto her jawline, the pleasure of the kisses shocked her, could she really be enjoying that while she was being ripped apart? The mouth covered her and she felt it sucking on her, pulling the air from her lungs until they burned, and her body rocked again, her final rib cracked away and her breasts deflated, a hand tugged them back up and her nipples hardened under the touch. She felt betrayed by her body as the pleasure centers activated, and her hips rocked, then the hands released her she felt her breasts flop down onto her lungs, deprived of the protection and support of her rib cage, the pain was beyond anything she had felt so far, dull but fierce and completely new. The things laid her gently back on the bed, into the congealing blood on the sheets, she felt three mouths kiss her, one on the mouth, on the thigh and the other on her vulva. And then they were gone, the ringing in her ears returned. She saw briefly a flash of three faces, twisted and rotten, before she heard her radio click on and a perfect circle with a line through it was drawn on her ceiling, in her blood. As she took her final breaths and sank out of consciousness into death she heard the song on the radio
There’s a somebody I’m longing to see, I hope that he, turns out to be, someone to watch over me….
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