Magic Bullet Cups
Stories similar to this that you might like too.
“I can’t believe you’ve never played this,” he murmured. “It’s so good.”
He was holding up the controller in his hand, ready to pass it over. I didn’t want it.
“Why do you care?” I asked him suddenly.
There was a brief pause and then he shook his head with a smile as he put down the controller, reaching for my cup of hot chocolate.
The heat from the cocoa felt good against my skin when he pressed me back into the pillows on the couch. He’d turned off the fireplace and candles because they were bothering us, and instead, we’d settled ourselves onto the cushions with my hot chocolate in his hands.
It wasn’t like being alone at home watching movies or listening to music—it was like sitting beside someone who knew all your secrets and liked them anyway. I had no idea how long we sat there before we started playing video games. I just remember that by the time we finally looked up it was dark outside, and neither of us was wearing our coats anymore. We’d been too busy having fun to notice what had happened around us.
We took a shower together. We brushed our teeth together. When he pulled back from kissing me at the door of my apartment building, he whispered, “See you tomorrow night?”
I nodded and watched him walk away. The snow crunched softly under his feet until I couldn’t see him anymore. And then I went inside. Unloaded the dishwasher. Changed clothes. Got ready for bed. Wrote a little note about how much fun it had been to be able to go out tonight with someone and not worry about being judged for any of it.
And then I lay down in the dark bedroom and let the memories roll through me again.
When I came back to myself I was staring up at the ceiling, still naked, and it felt like every single nerve ending in my body was screaming in pain. I thought maybe I was going crazy, but the sound was real, and it came again before my brain could register the meaning behind it.
Someone was laughing hysterically somewhere in the darkness of the room. My stomach twisted when I realized what I was hearing: laughter. But there was nothing to laugh at here. There were no mirrors on the walls, and none of the paintings showed anything funny; there was nothing even remotely humorous to see.
I’d been living my whole life with these images and they’d always been there. They weren’t supposed to have voices now.
My eyes fluttered open. I was still lying on top of the covers. The light of an alarm clock shining across my forehead told me it was early morning, barely past midnight. The sound of the laughter was gone.
But something was wrong. Something was very wrong.
I got up from where I’d curled up against my back. Took several deep breaths to clear my mind before looking around the room.
Nothing else changed. Everything was just as it should be. Nothing strange was showing up anywhere.
Except for one thing. On the floor beside the desk lamp, I saw that someone had drawn a perfect circle of chalk around a single piece of paper on the rug. The paper held another image that I knew well. A man with bright blue skin and glowing eyes stared at me from its center.
His mouth hung wide open, his teeth sharp and white as if they had just been freshly polished. His hair was long and golden, and even though he was only made up of black lines of chalk, I could feel a terrible hunger emanating from him.
His arms were folded across his chest in defiance, but the muscles bulged and flexed with every breath as if he would break free at any moment and attack me with those hands of death.
This drawing hadn’t appeared while we’d played video games and laughed together. It didn’t show up after I’d kissed him. It was new.
I picked up the piece of paper off the floor.
***
The Blue Man
As soon as the paper touched my fingers, the image began to blur. I tried to hold on to it, to get a look at what was written on it. But my vision was already starting to waver. I dropped the paper onto the table, trying to steady my hands enough to read what was written on the front.
“What’s happening to me?” I muttered out loud, my voice shaking uncontrollably.
My vision blurred and darkened.
It felt like the worst hangover ever. Like someone was pouring sand into my veins. I could barely stand it. It was hard enough for me to breathe without being conscious of everything else going on around me. Every movement I made was slow, and I kept feeling like my head was getting too heavy to hold up.
My body fell forward on the desk, landing hard on the cool surface and knocking my glasses off.
I couldn’t find them. Couldn’t see anything at all.
I felt my consciousness slipping away. This wasn’t how I wanted to leave this place. Not when I was just finding my feet again. So many things had started to make sense since we’d met—the dreams, the visions, the nightmares.
I needed time to figure out what was really happening here. What I was dealing with. Who was doing this to me? Why were they taking their time? Did they want me dead or alive? What did they want with me? And why hadn’t I figured any of it out yet? I was so close.
I’d never felt more sure that I understood the nature of what was attacking me … but then I lost my sight and it was as if my brain stopped working altogether.
I closed my eyes tightly, fighting against the darkness. Fighting against the weight of my own head. Trying desperately to keep my senses focused on something. Anything.
Then I heard it: that sound of laughter. I thought it might be in my ears, but it must have been coming from outside the house because I could hear it over my pounding heartbeat. I knew this laughter. I’d heard it in my dreams.
In the darkness of the attic. Now I’d come home in the middle of the night, and it had followed me into my bed. When my eyes finally opened again, I saw nothing more than a thick gray haze around me. The light from the window was too faint to see by, but whatever I’d been staring at had turned pitch-black.
It was as if my eyeballs refused to open completely as if they weren’t strong enough to take in what little light there was. But when I looked down, I saw that I was still dressed in my pajamas. My clothes were covered in blood. My hair was matted with it, and my face was smudged with the same substance, making me look like I’d just crawled out of the gutter.
Something inside of me broke loose at that point.
I screamed for help. Screamed until it hurt. Even when there was no sound coming through, I screamed, unable to stop myself. No matter how much pain my voice caused me, it was worth it because someone would finally come. Someone would rescue me from this nightmare.
When I woke up later, I realized I’d been in my dream again, but this time I remembered more about what had happened. Or maybe not exactly more … I’d seen it clearly before, so when I came awake now, all the details were crystal clear. There were no missing pieces. As far as I could tell, nothing new had happened, but I knew better. That wasn’t real life. This was some kind of alternate reality that I’d created.
That meant the drawing I’d found on the floor earlier must’ve come from my subconscious. A wayward message from my unconscious mind that had somehow ended up being written in my handwriting. It was a warning sign. It said, “Watch out! Something is coming!”
I got to my knees and looked around. Nothing was out of place, and I didn’t think I was in any danger right now, but I couldn’t afford to take chances. The last thing I needed was to lose control of my senses for even a second. I knew what that felt like—to lose my grip on who I really was, to become one of those creatures lurking around outside my room.
So I gathered up the few things I owned and left, locking the door behind me before turning off the light. I took the stairs two at a time and stepped outside into the dark yard. I needed fresh air.
The moonlight cast shadows everywhere; it was easy to imagine it was daytime rather than late at night. The trees were full of birds flying overhead, chirping their songs at each other. They fluttered across the sky and landed somewhere far beyond where I could see, probably in the woods beyond the property.
I walked over and looked down at the ground below. Everything was quiet for now, but that didn’t mean I had peace of mind. This was no safe haven from this horror, only an illusion that allowed me to get used to the idea of living here again after leaving. It was a necessary evil until I got my bearings.
And I had a plan.
I went back inside and grabbed my sketchbook and pencils, then headed out of the house and down the driveway toward the forest.
My legs were shaking when I made it to the woods’ edge and found the tree that marked my boundary line. There was no one else around to ask for directions, but I’d spent countless hours walking through these woods before. Back then, it was to escape a broken heart. This time, my feet carried me away from home, to the spot where I’d first learned what it felt like to kill someone.
I stopped when I reached the stump. My stomach twisted and roiled. If I’d known what I was going to do tonight, maybe I wouldn’t have come back here.
“It’s okay,” I whispered, trying to convince myself as much as anything else. “You’re not here anymore.”
I closed my eyes, and my mind flew back to a night long ago, when I’d lost everything in an instant. An instant when my life had changed forever, and there was no going back. To a moment when every piece of me had shattered into shards of glass that cut me to the bone.
When I’d felt as though the world had fallen in around me. And when the only way I could hold on to anything was by holding onto death itself.
But now that I’d gotten that out of my system, I knew I had to leave this place. It was time to go home and start a brand new life. I’d been in the woods too long. The past would catch up with me if I stayed here for too much longer.
Not just my childhood nightmares, but the truth about my father and all his secrets. Once upon a time, he had told me, “There are worse things than monsters.” Now it seemed I might be forced to find out what they were, which was frightening enough. But to make matters worse, this was also the home of another monster.
I drew closer to the stump and knelt down to study the markings carved into its surface. Each word spelled out something terrifying, but nothing I recognized from my own childhood. All those years ago, I’d thought it had to be some kind of warning against bad guys. Maybe an ancient curse or curse word.
But that was wrong.
Because now I knew who my enemy truly was.
And she was already dead.
The End