High school archive – 2020
Differentiating reality from a dream grew more difficult for Paul. His mother grew more worried about him. His brother grew taller every day, but Paul just didn’t see it. It was only a matter of time before Paul’s pillows grew roots to surround him, before his nails grew to the length of his fingers, before his hair grew to hit the floor, before his pyjamas grew into his skin.
Paul’s eyes were in his hands. His way of determining reality from fiction would be if it was tangible or not. That usually seemed to work, but sometimes his dreams would play tricks on him. He’d wake up, not even sure if he was awake, with an extra bruise or scratch from an entity in his dream despite never having left his bed.
After a tiring day of having a shower and watching half an episode of a new show, Paul crawled into his bed for the final time that day. It was only 2pm, but he wanted nothing more than to leave this plane of existence and enter into yet another dream world. His limbs fell numb as soon as he closed his eyes.
Even though Paul’s head felt like it was full of mud, he could clearly see a figure in front of him. A tall, shadowy figure. Was this a dream? Paul wiped his nose with his sleeve. Brown? Is that blood? Or is my head actually full of mud like it feels? A quick glance back at the shadowy figure revealed that it hadn’t moved. It just swayed back and forth at the end of Paul’s bed.
“H….” Paul tried. Nothing came out. It felt like he needed his entire body just to utter one word, but he couldn’t move. He could do nothing but examine the figure in front of him.
Its eyes sparkled amongst the darkness. It was as if Paul were looking into the night sky. He was frozen, enraptured with its ominous gaze. Shivers shook his spine as the entity appeared to lean closer.
This dream feels more… real than others.
The being’s sparkling eyes engulfed Paul as it moved toward him.
Wide brown eyes stared into black crystal ones. The eyes staring back at Paul seemed to brighten up and he could make out subtle features in the reflection. Suddenly, it seemed that big brown eyes stared back at Paul. His own brown eyes. His nose too, and his lips. His whole face was staring back at him. The shock of this revelation threw Paul back against his headboard. He then realised he’d regained control over his own body.
Slowly and shakily, Paul’s hand reached toward the mysterious being in front of him, the “Shadow Man” he’d decided to call it. His finger pierced what seemed to be the Shadow Man’s skin, only to be enveloped in black. It was like a curtain covered his finger. Not even a flinch came from the figure, its eyes just continued to stare deep into his soul. Paul’s shaky hand tried to grasp at the being but to no avail. It just disappeared into the Shadow Man’s body. Heavy confusion washed over Paul as he retracted his hand and examined it.
“What’s wrong with you?” he burst out. He didn’t mean it to sound… rude, he just didn’t know what else to say. Everything stood still for a moment. The Shadow Man stopped swaying and stood stagnantly.
“Sorry,” he continued, “Who are you?” A deep inhale echoed around the room. The Shadow Man sighed. It gave a low, long grumble as a reply. Well, it sounded like a grumble but Paul could seemingly understand what it said.
“A nomad soul,” the Shadow Man said. Paul’s eyebrows crept higher.
“Why are you… here?”
“I just wanted to visit,” it replied. Paul’s confusion grew. Gears whirred in his head as he tried to decipher what the Shadow Man meant and why it was here with him in particular. He had so many questions! Like, Who is this, really? Where did it come from? Why is it in my bedroom?
“It’s not your fault or my fault that I’m here,” the Shadow Man began, “I’ve been in limbo for I don’t even know how long. I’m stuck, but I’m not really complaining. I made peace with the fact that I’m not going to an afterlife, nor am I going to come back to the mortal plane, so I just visit people and explore each and every night. Tonight, it’s your turn for a visit.”
Paul gazed at it in awe.
“So you’re… dead?” he asked tentatively.
“I think so. People don’t usually talk to me when I visit, so I appreciate you, Paul.” With each of the Shadow Man’s breaths, an echo rattled Paul’s ears.
“Oh, okay. Well, did you need anything? I just want to sleep, man. I don’t mind if you stay,” Paul said. “I- just- … let me sleep!”
And with that, Paul abruptly pulled the covers over him as he laid down.
The Shadow Man crept around the tiny bedroom while Paul’s soft snores drifted out from beneath the duvet. Its bony finger swept Paul’s desk and discovered it was covered in a thick layer of dust. It sighed.
How could it get this bad? Paul should clean this. The Shadow Man looked over to Paul’s bed woefully and understood why no one cleaned this room.
It was 11am when Paul awoke with a melancholy feeling weighing him down. He felt like he was missing something. His sleep-filled eyes were staring lazily at the ceiling as the events of the previous night came to him. Paul sharply inhaled and sat upright in an abrupt manner and looked to where the Shadow Man was standing the night it visited.
“Oh,” he sighed. That wasn’t real. Paul slumped back down. He turned to face his bedside table to check the time on his phone, but none of the dirty dishes were there like they were yesterday.
What? He was shocked. Mum never comes into my room. Why would she start today?
He sat back up and looked around his room to discover that things were slightly different. They were… cleaner. The surfaces in his room were no longer tinted
grey from dust, nor were there any clothes on the floor like there used to be. A black piece of paper sat on his desk across the room that wasn’t there before. He quickly got up and went over to it. He never got up this fast or this willingly before, but he was just so confused! Nothing seemed like it was before he went to sleep yesterday. Paul took a deep breath and opened the folded piece of paper. The note in white ink read:
“Paul, there is a life
to be lived outside your dreams.
Live before too late.
S.M.”
