Building 8 “The Dinner Date”

“People here talk a lot about the legends of this place. I don't give them much thought. At least not consciously. But in my dreams...in my dreams I see something impossibly large coming. Something with hands the size of train cars and teeth the size of railroad ties.

And every day, in increments, the thing gets closer.

It whispers to me terrible things about my birth and my life. About the end of the world. And I honestly find the things it says about my family to be far more disturbing.

That and the way all this feels in my head.

How am I supposed to keep all this inside?

These secrets are driving me insane. It is just too much, and I can't tell anyone. Not because I can't, but because the thing made very clear that I should. That it would be in the best interest of us all if we knew what was coming.

I always wondered why our basement in my childhood home smelled weird. I never really expected the answer to be anything pleasant. But not this...if I had known the answer, I never would have let myself wonder.

I wouldn't have asked it.

When it first appeared in my dreams, it kept asking me what I wanted to know. At first it was a whisper. Just a lingering moan on the wind. But over weeks, I was able to make out what it was saying.

I thought about what I wanted to know. I thought this thing was just my mind; my own curiosity. But it knows things that I wouldn't know for many years...

So many awful things.

I decided to ask it something, and though I planned at least three other questions, somehow it knew what I needed to know most.

And now I know what made my basement smell so bad, even though I wish I didn't. And the thing is still coming. Still getting closer. And I smell the scent of its coarse wet hair, carried on by the storm winds. And when the lightening flashes, I see its eyes; the color of a waterlogged corpse.

I know how the world will end.

It is coming closer.

It knows things I didn't want to know.”

Margaret and I have been going on walks now that the weather is better. I am screaming less at night. Her rest has been calmed as well. At least sometimes.

We went and got ice cream.

She didn't really look at me much.

I asked her what was wrong. She told me that I'm drinking too much. I had told her I would stop drinking when she came back to me.

When I got home, I threw out the beer in the house. I want to be drowsy. To block it all out, but not if it means losing her. Not again. I poured it all down the drain.

Loyd watched. He still smells like dirt. I have washed him several times. Still smells like dirt.

He was dead. My cat was dead.

Now he isn't.

I thought I missed the heat, but now that it is here I don't. It is stifling. Every time someone walks into the restaurant, I feel a blast of hot air. Throws me off. Maybe I’m dehydrated. Need to drink more water. Need to drink only water.

Invited the neighbors with the strange faces over for dinner.

They brought flowers. They were really fragrant. They looked sick, but insisted they were okay.

The wife looked off. Not put together. Claimed there had been a fire in their previous home. Was why her and her husband looked like that. Didn't mean for her to notice me looking at the deformed skin on her face.

Couldn't help it.

Saw skin like that on soldiers.

They brought wine. I had to explain I wasn't drinking. Margaret had me make an exception. It was clear they didn't get out much and neither did we.

I invited them over again. Margaret and the wife... Nancy...got on. Talked to the husband about the war. I thought that was why his skin was like that...

lights kept flickering.

Needed to get them looked at.

I keep dreaming of the water. That beach.

Something is in the water.

I wake up and my heart is pounding and I have trouble breathing.

Doctor says it's just panic attacks.

I don't know what I can do now. Already on medicine. Seeing a therapist.

Sometimes I try not to wake up.