Cold was the first thing William noticed as his mind was pulled from sleep. It was early autumn and the days had been wonderfully mild but the nights deserved the warmth of a fire in the fireplace. He pulled the blankets up over his shoulders and rolled onto his side, his hand reaching out in search of the warmth of his mate, but his mind was shaken into full, saddened consciousness as the empty space on the opposite side of the bed reminded him that he was alone in the darkness of that house that he’d yet to feel any sort of familiarity with.
William recited a memory in his mind, his lips mouthing silently along with his thoughts. “Arthur Browning, March 23, 1884, 28 years old.” He concentrated on the image of the name and date cut into the grey stone. For reasons William had yet to figure out, it seemed to mean something to him that the letters were the perfect indentation to trace his claws through.
He reached into the pitch blackness of the room, over the cold and empty space on the bed, and felt around blindly on the bedside table until his fingertips came to rest on the smooth metal of a match safe. He pulled it into the bed with him and held it in a tight fist against his chest, his thumb feeling over the casing for the engraving he’d ordered put on it. Arthur had always said that having a match at the ready was the perfect way to make friends of a stranger in need of a spark. He’d kept that match safe in his breast pocket any time he was out of the house and William had joked that Arthur would sooner leave the house forgetting to bring along his own head than he would his matches. It had gotten Arthur to flash a wry grin as he slipped the match safe into his pocket with a flamboyant little twirl of the wrist.
William stared off into the darkness as he tried to keep his thoughts on better times, but this house still felt wrong to him. He’d been there for less than a week and hadn’t yet learned it’s sounds and smells. Everything that was in the room he had brought from the house he had shared with Arthur. The same armoire, the same bed, the same night stands, the same bedside lamps that he set up just the same as they had been at the old house, even if he knew that Arthur’s would never be used again, but it felt wrong not to have it there. All of the furniture was the same, but the room itself was different. It was like looking at a recreation of his old room within a miniature doll house. It felt like a lie. The one comfort he had was that he had brought along their grey tabby cat, Tobius. He may have been a fat and lazy cat that rarely did anything to actually offer comfort, but the simple fact that he was there was enough to make William feel he wasn’t the only living soul in the house, and setting out food in the morning gave him a reason to get out of bed those mornings when the memories weighed heavier.
It was these moments, however, in the middle of the night when William would wake and be left in the darkness with nothing but his thoughts that were the hardest. Occasionally though, the old house would let out a low groan or creak to distract him.
This time however, William was distracted by a different noise. A thump down he hall pulled him from his thoughts and he rolled onto his back to look at the crack in the door. He was accustomed to leaving it just open enough for Tobius to come and go as he pleased.
Another thump. Tobius, probably pouncing on a mouse that had found its way inside. The floors were old and Tobius was overweight afterall. The third thump however sounded more familiar, and it made William’s heart skip a beat. Was that a footstep? It couldn’t be. The house was out in the country and there was no one around for miles. He rubbed his eyes and tried to shake the sleep from his mind. “Recognize it.” he thought to himself, trying to come up with a more rational explanation.
Thump.
It was closer now. It was all he could recognize. The sound from the hallway was coming closer.
Thump.
Closer still. It sounded only feet away from the door now. He watched what little light he could see through the door for any sign of...who? What? He didn’t even know. He lay there, propped up on his elbows, somewhere between fear and trying to rationalize what the sound could be.
Thump.
THUMP.
It was right at the door now. Rationalization left his mind and he stared at the door, waiting to see the silhouette of someone finally showing themselves.
A moment passed...and then another...and another, and there was no sign of a figure in the doorway. And just as he was about to find the courage to get up and look, he felt a sudden, gentle tug at the covers from the foot of the bed.
William drew in a sharp gasp, then exhaled in a growl and fell back into bed.
“Tobius, you shit!” he called out to the air. He lay there for another moment, trying to calm the pounding in his chest that he was embarrassed to be feeling at all. Finally though, he flung himself up. “Alright, get up here.” He said, patting the covers. For a moment there was nothing, then another light tug at the blanket. “Well come on if you’re coming, you git.”
The sentence was barely out of his mouth when the blue, transparent, blank-eyed face of a person peeked up from the end of the bed
William kicked his legs frantically, trying to get his legs free from the blankets. In the flurry he lost sight of the pale face just before he managed to claw his way out of bed. He needed light to see properly, but there was no time to light a candle. He dived at the window, flinging open the curtains to let the light of the moon flood into the room, but there was nothing there to see. No silhouette, no glowing blue face, not even a fat cat for him to scold. His eyes darted around the room looking for anything that may be there, but there was nothing other than the light curls of steam from his own ragged breaths. Was he still too fresh from sleep to trust what he thought he saw? What about what he had felt and heard?
“Tobius.” he let out in an urgent whisper, but silence was the reply. One long stretch of silence and stillness before William worked up the courage to take that first nervous step forward, then another. He peeked around the end of the bed to see the empty floor. His rational mind was beginning to tame his nerves and he became frustrated with himself.
“Come to your senses ol’ boy. You were still half asleep and dreaming.” he grumbled to himself, rolling his shoulders and building his courage before starting at the door in a determined march, flinging it open and staring off into the empty hallway. “See? A dream, nothing more. You’re starting to lose your mind.”
Thump.
This time it was new. This time it wasn’t out in the hallway. The fur on Williams back bristled as he recognized the noise coming from behind him.
“Tobius, if you-” he began to say as he turned around, but his words cut short as he saw the pale blue face hanging there in the air in front of the window. Not just the face this time however, but the full figure of a young man standing beside the bed, his face solemn and staring blankly at the floor. William’s jaw fell open and his breath caught in his throat. He gripped the doorknob and tried to speak, but his mind was blank.
The young man’s head slowly tilted upward and even though his eyes were blank, William could feel the spirit’s focus fix itself on him. The translucent lips parted and a soft voice trickled out.
“Did something happen to me?”
It was all William could stand. It was either collapse or flee and his legs didn’t give his body the chance to decide. His knees began to shake and his muscles turned to jelly as the room started to blur. His knees his the floorboards with a loud crack and his vision went dark before his body came to rest, calm sleep overtaking him until morning.
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6 years, 8 months ago
22 Apr 2018 03:26 CEST
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