06-26-2023, 08:42 PM
Evelyn is jarred awake on the bed. She sits up, looks around, everything appears to be normal.
She calls out to Tom, her voice soaked in desperation. In seconds - he’s standing in the doorway.
She fires a frantic litany of questions at him, he walks over and sits on the bed. He allows her to
finish, wild-eyed with messy hair.
“We’re alright. The house is fine. Sounds like you’ve just had a bad dream.”
Her demeanor switches from displaced to livid.
“There’s no way in Hell that was a dream!” she barks, leaping from the bed.
Evelyn bolts into the hallway, then the living room, Tom following. Her eyes dart around, witnessing
the impossible. It was just as he said - everything was fine - them, the house, the furniture. She breaks
and tears run down her face.
“This can’t be! I know what I saw, what WE saw! I’m not crazy!”
Tom places his arms around her.
“Of course not. You’ve been under a lot of stress. We both have. My retirement, leaving Iowa, moving
across the country. It’s a lot of adjustments.”
Her emotion gradually relents. Tom offers to make some tea and they head to the kitchen. Passing the
bookcase in the hallway, Evelyn spots the small navy blue vase on the top shelf. Her mind spirals.
“What’s this? Where did it come from?”
“The vase? We’ve had that for years. Your mother gave it to you.”
“NO! I mean how is it back on the shelf? It fell and shattered yesterday as I was dusting! I swept it up
and put it in the trash!”
Tom is at a loss.
“Why don’t you go lay down, I’ll get the tea started.”
Tom proceeds to the kitchen - Evelyn remains in the hall.
LATER THAT NIGHT
Evelyn has trouble getting to sleep - tossing and turning. She finally gives in and gets out
of bed, leaving Tom in dreamland.
She staggers to the kitchen, gets a glass of water and makes a beeline to her recliner. Perhaps a little
reading will help.
She takes a drink, sets the glass down and grabs her book - a tepid, peer-reviewed collection of
notes on human consciousness. Praised by critics but Evelyn was finding it to be a bit dry and on
the boring side of academic. It did however lull her senses into compliance.
Several minutes in and she was easing into that comfortable drowsy warmth. Eyelids heavy, breathing
slowed to a crawl.
The book drops closed onto her lap - she’s succumbed to the nod. The dim yellow light from the
desk lamp on the table beside her flickers. And again. She’s none the wiser.
Rising from the dead quiet - a clicking sound - much like a metronome. It is soon accompanied
by a deep bellow of dissonance - the tone of a morose, detuned cello.
The clicking evolves into a vicious, cutting static while the bellow grows louder, angrier. Evelyn begins
levitating from the chair.
The cacophony of noise reaches full detriment - Evelyn now hovers several feet in the air. The sound
is roaring, other objects in the room lose hold of gravity - slipping into the same otherworldly space
that Evelyn currently occupies.
Then a break - silence re-establishes - Evelyn drops like an anvil onto the chair. She’s instantly awakened.
Heart racing, eyes wide.
“You do not belong here.”
She looks around, attempting to locate the source of those foreboding words.
“Wh… who are you?”
A low rumble answers back, vibrating the windows. Evelyn springs from the chair.
“You shouldn’t be here!”
The rumble returns, shaking the floor.
Evelyn stumbles back to her chair. Then a bright flash - the entire room has been sealed in some form of translucent resin.
“Tom! Tom!!” she screams.
“Submit.” snarled the voice.
Evelyn, in tears, falls onto her hands and knees.
“What are you?” she begs.
“God!” booms the discarnate entity.
Her sobbing is louder, harder but is drowned out by a gallery of maniacal laughter that
echoes - shrill and seething.
“SUBMIT!” the voice repeats.
Evelyn sits up, tries to gather herself.
“What do you want?”
“Kill him.”
“Kill who?”
“The man.”
Her whimpering ceases. She wipes her face - those words slowly sink in.
“I will NOT!”
“Kill him!” the voice commands.
“Fuck you!”
The small desk lamp blinks, the bulb pops - Evelyn screeches. The room is bathed in darkness.
“You both will die.”
Evelyn collapses back onto the floor - alone in the pitch black.
https://imgur.com/a/gNveM7L
"Figments" - Second in the five-part series 'Unseen'.
Mixed media on plywood. My 122nd painting.
She calls out to Tom, her voice soaked in desperation. In seconds - he’s standing in the doorway.
She fires a frantic litany of questions at him, he walks over and sits on the bed. He allows her to
finish, wild-eyed with messy hair.
“We’re alright. The house is fine. Sounds like you’ve just had a bad dream.”
Her demeanor switches from displaced to livid.
“There’s no way in Hell that was a dream!” she barks, leaping from the bed.
Evelyn bolts into the hallway, then the living room, Tom following. Her eyes dart around, witnessing
the impossible. It was just as he said - everything was fine - them, the house, the furniture. She breaks
and tears run down her face.
“This can’t be! I know what I saw, what WE saw! I’m not crazy!”
Tom places his arms around her.
“Of course not. You’ve been under a lot of stress. We both have. My retirement, leaving Iowa, moving
across the country. It’s a lot of adjustments.”
Her emotion gradually relents. Tom offers to make some tea and they head to the kitchen. Passing the
bookcase in the hallway, Evelyn spots the small navy blue vase on the top shelf. Her mind spirals.
“What’s this? Where did it come from?”
“The vase? We’ve had that for years. Your mother gave it to you.”
“NO! I mean how is it back on the shelf? It fell and shattered yesterday as I was dusting! I swept it up
and put it in the trash!”
Tom is at a loss.
“Why don’t you go lay down, I’ll get the tea started.”
Tom proceeds to the kitchen - Evelyn remains in the hall.
LATER THAT NIGHT
Evelyn has trouble getting to sleep - tossing and turning. She finally gives in and gets out
of bed, leaving Tom in dreamland.
She staggers to the kitchen, gets a glass of water and makes a beeline to her recliner. Perhaps a little
reading will help.
She takes a drink, sets the glass down and grabs her book - a tepid, peer-reviewed collection of
notes on human consciousness. Praised by critics but Evelyn was finding it to be a bit dry and on
the boring side of academic. It did however lull her senses into compliance.
Several minutes in and she was easing into that comfortable drowsy warmth. Eyelids heavy, breathing
slowed to a crawl.
The book drops closed onto her lap - she’s succumbed to the nod. The dim yellow light from the
desk lamp on the table beside her flickers. And again. She’s none the wiser.
Rising from the dead quiet - a clicking sound - much like a metronome. It is soon accompanied
by a deep bellow of dissonance - the tone of a morose, detuned cello.
The clicking evolves into a vicious, cutting static while the bellow grows louder, angrier. Evelyn begins
levitating from the chair.
The cacophony of noise reaches full detriment - Evelyn now hovers several feet in the air. The sound
is roaring, other objects in the room lose hold of gravity - slipping into the same otherworldly space
that Evelyn currently occupies.
Then a break - silence re-establishes - Evelyn drops like an anvil onto the chair. She’s instantly awakened.
Heart racing, eyes wide.
“You do not belong here.”
She looks around, attempting to locate the source of those foreboding words.
“Wh… who are you?”
A low rumble answers back, vibrating the windows. Evelyn springs from the chair.
“You shouldn’t be here!”
The rumble returns, shaking the floor.
Evelyn stumbles back to her chair. Then a bright flash - the entire room has been sealed in some form of translucent resin.
“Tom! Tom!!” she screams.
“Submit.” snarled the voice.
Evelyn, in tears, falls onto her hands and knees.
“What are you?” she begs.
“God!” booms the discarnate entity.
Her sobbing is louder, harder but is drowned out by a gallery of maniacal laughter that
echoes - shrill and seething.
“SUBMIT!” the voice repeats.
Evelyn sits up, tries to gather herself.
“What do you want?”
“Kill him.”
“Kill who?”
“The man.”
Her whimpering ceases. She wipes her face - those words slowly sink in.
“I will NOT!”
“Kill him!” the voice commands.
“Fuck you!”
The small desk lamp blinks, the bulb pops - Evelyn screeches. The room is bathed in darkness.
“You both will die.”
Evelyn collapses back onto the floor - alone in the pitch black.
https://imgur.com/a/gNveM7L
"Figments" - Second in the five-part series 'Unseen'.
Mixed media on plywood. My 122nd painting.
