DarkyLights

The Daily Struggles of Carell Castle

Chapter 1
(Part 1 of 2)

Tick… Tock... Tick… Tock…. Only 2 things were floating in my mind.. Will that dumb ticking knock it off and how long will this suffering last? The sound of the clock on my wall echo so quietly… only the sound of drizzling rain pouring outside of my window and the leaks dripping from the ceiling into the bucket… drip…. drop…. Oddly quiet for New York City. You may think that’s peaceful but that’s beyond peaceful for me almost as if I wasn’t in the same world anymore.  Maybe I’m in a different world or reality?

The atmosphere of my office was cold and gray, no sign of color. My eyes focusing on the pendulum swinging, shifting left to right, the more I look at it.. the more time seems to slow down.

Could feel my eyelids, fighting the battle against my everlong slumber… but I’m losing this fight... I feel like I’m in some sort of state as if fear took my body that I can’t move my body. But why should I be scared?

frozen in my worn-down desk chair. All I can move is my fingers, digging into the scratched up armrest. I have lost this battle… my eyelids close to the ever-welcoming darkness consuming my vision, falling into the “dreamland” and last sound from this world was… Tick… tock… drip… drop….

Beep.. beep.. My eyes flickered open to a very familiar sound and a familiar hallway. remember the checker pattern floor, the clipboard with the advertisements and lost dog flyers, and the dreary hallway. The dull ceiling light flickering in annoyance, the only source of bright light leads to this room. The only thing on my mind is: Here we go again.

I know what lies in that room, wish to not enter that room but I must or I may not wake up in this hellish nightmare. I get up from the plastic waiting chair and starts walking toward the door, every step time grows slower or the hallways grew longer. Hard to tell in this little world in my head. It’s almost like Alice and the Wonderland except without all the talking plants or caterpillars smoking some dope.

Sooner or later, reach the room to be greeted by these dark figures, their white soulless eyes piercing into my soul. Each figure coming in different sizes and shape... But they all share the same trait: no distinctive shadow humanize bodies and the white eyes. They don’t do anything except keeping their eyes on me…. I do hear whispers but hard to tell if they’re doing it since I’m not sure they have mouths or even speak.

The ever so familiar sound of the heart monitor growing louder and louder but yet slower and slower. Once I approached the hospital bed where my father was in 16 years ago. The decaying fungus like demon monster, releasing toxic like spores from its gruesome body and hovering over my lifeless father. The monster was like the shadow figures but much larger, less human-like and it always stares at my father.

I stood by my father’s deathbed, close enough to my father but away from this thing, the spores are toxic to me and I found out the hard way so I try to stay away from it. My father was still alive but barely, but there was no sign of emotion in his face, his dull lifeless eyes staring back at the monster. He wasn’t that old back then…. He was like in his 40’s but he always has health problems, he was fighting till one day. He gives up trying to fight against his illness and let it win.

His dark red violet hair is now almost completely gray. He looks like he aged to 70 quickly.

“Father…” said his name softly.

My father’s dull orbs slowly make over to me but I can tell he wasn’t looking at me but what is behind me. His eyes that were once the color of fire were now the color of ashes.

“Son… hey there bud” his quiet raspy voice.

Once he spoke, his eyes shifted toward my eyes. The room was empty and quiet now, almost all of the weird shadow creatures were gone except for the big one, still hovering over my ill father.

“Son, come closer…” he whispered.

Took a step closer. Felt immediate goosebumps racing across my body and a sudden little sickness twisting in my stomach as if my guts were tying themselves in knots. Even if this is like the thousandth time with this nightmare, the presences and sickling of this creature always affect my wellbeing. focusing on my father, trying to puke my guts out. My nails digging through the sleeves of my sweater and into my scarred wrist.

“Hey buddy…” he said. When he says “buddy” means something not good. “Could you do your old man an offer?” he asked before moving his shaking hand across the edge of the bed. Poor man barely had the energy to even move his arm without support. The almost lifeless arm falls down to the side of the bed.