Whispers of the Unseen

Ditching the bloody suit-jacket over the bridge edge after wiping off his face, he made a swift yet casual stride towards the city. There was some distance that needed to be crossed before he reached the crowded streets. Though the urge to flee drove him on without hesitation. His stride was swift and determined, pressing on with a light foot and a familiar sense of guilt. The sounds of sirens dimming in the background as every desperate step carried him farther from the perceived danger. He didn't have the luxury of getting a moment to think. Not out in the open where everything was still so confusing. He has one goal in mind: get home!

Police cars were still at the distal end of the bridge. Despite their demanding attempts to push through, the traffic could not be easily navigated. With so many vehicles crowding the narrow lanes, there would be more than enough time for Dan to harmlessly slip into the swarm of pedestrians crowding the city sidewalks. Now that he's left it behind, he figured no one else would be able to connect him to the bus for at least a couple hours.

As one would expect, the streets were active as people carried on their routine lives. The daily bustle often sparing only a moment or two for non-personal considerations. Yet, most would rather go on with their agenda instead of worrying about other peoples' problems. A few might not even think twice about what happened minutes ago and only a few city blocks away. An angel descended to earth, people were massacred, and a cosmic battle revealed divine beings hidden within the mortal realm.

Dan started sweating; he clenched his jaw and squeezed his hands into fists. I'm losing my mind! That can't be what happened! A feeling of panic was starting to develop; beginning with an urge of strangulation wrapping around his chest. His veins started feeling muddy with thick blood and there was an unusual pounding in his skin. Faint lines ran down his arms. They were filled in with goopy fluids being forced through shriveled vessels. Each pulse shook him from the core. The beats were so hard that his head felt ready to explode! "Get a grip on yourself!" He demanded out loud. An elderly woman passing buy took notice of his tantrum and sped away quickly; looking rather shocked and uncomfortable.

​Quickening his pace again, Dan wanted nothing more than the comfort of his nice quiet condo. He turned around the street corner and felt the sunlight cascading down. There were no obstructions along its path and the light surged unabated. Daniel continued his tortured journey with surprising ignorance. Finding small comforts in his own ridiculous dismissal. Trying to stay focused on catching a glimpse of the first street sign he could; anything to keep his mind distracted and his course accurate. It worked for a few minutes. Yet before long, flashes of the past began flooding into his head. Images of a dozen dead bodies were the first things that came to the forefront of his mind. Gasping and shrugging, he put that skeleton in the closet for later. "Did it really happen?" He mumbled to himself with a look of horror.

Daniel wished he could just turn his brain off! Make it stop thinking so many dark thoughts. So, he sought another new distraction, anything to prevent a full mental breakdown. He got his wish. As usual, be careful what you ask for.

The sunlight continually fell upon his skin. It was bright and warm as usual. There was nothing different about this morning's sunlight from yesterday's sunlight. The difference today is not the sun. Rather, the difference is the man whom walks within it. For on this day, he would not welcome the light. It would awaken and remind him of the pain he's suffered. He felt warm, more than usual. Slowing his pace, a passing car stirred the wind and he smelled the strong aroma of the city: fumes of food, gaseous emissions, sewage, and everything in between. These extreme sensations stifled all ambulation, and Dan raised his arms up towards his face. He rotated his hands while staring intently at them. A thin layer of steam seemed to be coming off his skin, and his flesh-tone had a reddish glow. Haunting sounds began to occupy a mounting presence. Quiet noises were amplified, and there were sinister arguments in the crowd. Between the faint and distant conversations, noises called to him, they were whispers…spoken from the unseen.

At first it seemed like a choppy static-ridden voice on an old radio. Though as the seconds passed, the voices became clearer. What language they spoke could not be ascertained, yet it was obvious their words were directed at him. And it was in that moment, Daniel began to sense how many eyes were upon him. Most could not be seen, but they could be felt. Dark piercing stares cast from hidden perches. A sickening nausea crept over him and he felt ready to faint. "Not here," He tried to encourage himself. He said another sentence after, something along the lines of a self-directed command. However, the words became mere gibberish while he started a slow jog. Daniel had enough wisdom left to know this wasn't a time to stop moving. The police hadn't been escaped yet. And perhaps, there were other foes about as well.

With some determination creeping back into his mind for a second wind, the journey resumed. He continued down the busy street. Daniel usually had a keen sense of direction, but at this point, he was moving on reflex alone. Hoping that every stride was one step closer to relief. Relying on whatever subconscious force remained as a guide –a rather primal sense lost in most people nowadays. Most people, but not him. Dan had a very strong will to survive.

Since Mr. Gosting had no intention of quitting, he trudged forward ever on. His constitution unwavering, yet it seemed to attract more and more attention. The surrounding whispers were changing in tone. For some time, they may have been keeping their distance. Now however, his fleeting presence called them closer. The sounds growing louder, one voice seemed as if its source rapidly approached. Dan took his lowered gaze and shifted it towards the city-dwellers. Across the street, on wandering pedestrians, he saw twisted things. A visage of horror with empty black features and ravaged flesh, then on another: a contorted jaw bearing large razor teeth and arms with skin-rending claws; demons were among him!

​Daniel was terrified. He suddenly realized they were everywhere, completely surrounding him! Some but a body-length away! There was nowhere left to turn, nowhere left to hide. If this were still just a dream, he wished he'd wake up already. Or if this was just some tasteless prank involving psychedelics then he hoped it wouldn't last. Though at this point, a cruel prank would be the welcome alternative. At least it would only be an illusion. One thing was for certain however, he was becoming paralyzed with fear. The first tear rolled down his cheek as his gaze fell back to the ground. Closing his eyes, he recited, "This isn't real. This isn't real! This isn't REAL!"

​"Daniel…oh Daniel," a hushed tone called to him. The smells, whispers, heat, and city sounds vanished in the presence of this summoning voice. "I see you, Daniel. I've seen you from tether to post, everything you've become. I know why you fear the end, let me release you."

​Staying focused, yet more petrified than ever, Dan kept his eyes closed and shouted. "You're not real, I don't hear you!"

​"You are not free, you're in a cage. A prisoner of your own fear. A prisoner of your own shame. I am the one who can release you…heed not their inglorious rhythm, or share the eternal dread."

​Hearing those words again, Dan found the courage to open his eyes. His peripherals caught a shifting image, and in the back of his mind he felt pressed to look towards it. He stood before a large window that reflected things to come. An image of himself as one of the Damned, bearing demonic wings and warped flesh. He shouted and wailed! This challenged everything he knew in his adult life. Which was that demons don't exist, and religion was just used as a form of control over the masses. So, it can't be possible. I'm imagining it! He insisted in his own mental meanderings. Yet no matter how hard he blinked his eyes; this demonic reflection would not fade. The sight of stretched skin from his face painted across the grotesque hellish body was unbearable. Unable to withstand the sight any longer, he once again took to flight.

​Whimpering as he passed by the people of San Diego, Daniel hadn't the faintest idea –even on a basic level, what they must be thinking of him of right now. His reality was once a well-off entrepreneur with a good reputation, no emotional ties, a few skeletons in the closet, and living the American dream. Everything was different now. He didn't know what was real, or what was happening in his head. Gods and demons…what did it all mean and why are they here? How is it possible?

"It's not possible. It's not possible. It's not possible!" He recited this over and over to himself while running. There had to be a reasonable explanation. Though with no obvious one in reach, he was forced to decide upon one for himself. "You've had too much coffee today and there is obviously someone playing a cruel joke on you. They put acid in your drink! It's the only logical answer. These are all just hallucinations. I remember my college days; they had some really strong stuff back then. Can only imagine what must be out there now! That's got to be it! Some new age drug slipped into my coffee this morning. Giving somebody a big laugh on my behalf. I'm sure of it. I bet they are even following me right now. Living it up as I make a fool of myself. I hope it doesn't get on the internet. Damn these punks. I need to stop making a scene every time I turn the corner. Just calm down. Get somewhere safe and out of sight. It shouldn't be much further."

​Heeding his own "rationality", Dan was once again regaining a semblance of sanity; restricting his full-blown sprint down to a brisk walk. Huffing and heaving, he continued talking to himself between his exhaustive panting. He kept his head down and plugged his ears while still speaking aloud, "Explanation Two: say it's not drugs. Perhaps I'm just having a mid-life crisis. An emotional break down or something." Trying to really go the extra mile on his self-coaching, he began getting more thorough with the directions. Doing his best to dissect all options, he continued, "If after a few hours it doesn't wear off, then 'Explanation Two' gains more credit. In which, I will then proceed to call a psychiatrist, the best one in the city –talk about everything!" He suddenly hesitated and trailed off with muted tones. "Well maybe not everything. Let's start with the immediate details and work back one step at a time. If necessary, we will get all the way to the real personal details. They're doctors, they hear that stuff all the time, I shouldn't leave out a single detail! They aren't allowed to tell anyone anyways, and this is important. I need to figure out what's going on." Nodding his head up and down in approval, "Yeah, yeah, this is a good plan. I've just been under a lot of stress, and it's all bottled up… oh and most likely someone drugged me! Don't want to forget that's still the most likely scenario. I'm just a little crazy right now, but everything is going to be fine."

​Finally arriving at his building, Daniel took his keys from his pocket and unlocked the front door. The entrance of the complex was marked by a large lobby comparable to a four-star hotel. It wasn't the richest building town, but it certainly wasn't the poorest. He looked to the desk clerk and was greeted with a smile. But suddenly the image flashed and the old clerk had blood pouring from every socket on his face: eyes, ears, nose, mouth –everywhere! Dan's eye's widened before instantly darting away. With his gaze focused on the ground once again, he hastily walked up the stairs. He needed to only climb one level before reaching the floor to his condo. He mumbled some more, "Have to find a really –REALLY good psychiatrist."

​Distortion followed him around every turn. Looking down the hall that contained several doors for families whom were strangers to him, the path looked exceptionally distant. As if the building suddenly stretched across the street; merging into the nice coffee shop that would always help get his day started with a warm cup of Joe. That shop being the most likely source of this drug-addled state.

Trying to stay present and ignore the fact that the hallway was wavy and moved like viscous fluid, Daniel started towards his door. Thumping came from his neighbors' homes, and a loud piercing buzz echoed through the hall. His brain felt overwhelmed from so many sensations, and his eyes began to hurt from the warped imagery. There was a tremble in his hand. It shook like a leaf and burned like a coal. He struggled to get his key in the lock as pain began to seethe into his fingertips and toes. Bursting from the small bones with a wave that only abated in the wilting creases of his flesh. Dan started crying from so much frustration. "Why won't you just open?"

​Loud scraping metal reverberated through his hand as the key finally found its mark. He twisted and heard a rewarding click. However, in this mental state, it sounded more like a rewarding explosion. Yet he would rather go deaf then endure one more moment in this suffocating hall. And as the barricade swung on its quaking hinges, he at last found relief. Released at once from his torment, Dan fell through the door and collapsed to the ground. Leaving the keys behind, he kicked the door shut. Letting out a large exhale, his eyes closed before he started gasping. Soon as the door latched close, it seemed whatever spell was cast upon him had been defeated. Normality started realigning and Daniel felt the breath returning to his lungs.