I am NOT dead.

In fact, I’m a good bit living. But what other place I return from, I’m not sure you, audience, can understand or accept. It was a place full of strangeness and curiosity. I doubt you shall believe me, because I don’t fully believe myself. Nevertheless, I recount it:

The morning sky spread itself like fresh linen, presenting a day to attend classes and otherwise squander with socially acceptable pursuits. But my story begins sooner, in the still inky span of pre-dawn.

My alarm trumpets a tinny “techno” loop interposing itself upon my now bewildered dream. As the dream-haze morphs into an awaking-haze, I hurriedly thumb the “disable” button of my alarm. My eyes are fixed on my roommate across from me. He hates it when my alarm wakes him. And I am not ashamed to say I fear him. There are stories of him chewing through shower rods and crushing his head through dry wall during fits of berserkergang rage. He is still asleep and I let my held breath escape.

What happens next you will assume to be embellished. I suspect this myself, as my memory is too convinced of impossibilities that a psychological phenomena can only explain their existence.
I have brushed my teeth, showered, and changed, all but set to carry on my morning routine, when something odd happens.

There is a knock on my door, and with my roommates all asleep, I answer it. It is not a neighbor. It is not an acquaintance.

It is not a human.



-----TO BE CONTINUED-------