When I woke up this morning, I knew it wasn't going to be a normal day. I didn't know how far, but I had a strange feeling; even more so when my dreams were full of shadows and non-existent monsters. However, I decided to move those thoughts to a place in my mind where they wouldn't interfere with me day by day.
I did my morning routine: getting up, showering, getting dressed and having a cup of coffee. On the way to work my imagination made bad moves; I kept seeing shadows similar to my dream, they were around me, on the avenues, on the traffic lights, in the garbage cans on the streets and in the shop windows. I really thought I was going crazy.
My name is Krisslayn and I am nineteen years old, all I know about my parents is that they died in a car accident of which I was also a part; I was miraculously the only survivor. I spent eighteen years of my precious existence living with my grandmother, a person who hates me, although the feeling is mutual, so when I turned nineteen I decided to take a big step for myself and move to a small apartment, where I only breathe peace and quiet.
I haven't had the opportunity to study in college because of my limited resources; if I don't work, I don't have the money to meet my basic needs, so studying is just a luxury for me. Even so, I'm not far from my horizon, I work in a small publishing house in my city; I tried out and was selected to be part of the science fiction and horror editing team. I guess that had something to do with my dreams, since I was up late reading a manuscript that absorbed all my thoughts.
There really are people with the gift of making you live a reality parallel to your imagination. I would like to become part of those people.
I walk past the city cemetery and, like every time, my skin stands on end in an incredible way. My body suffers an enormous chill; there I feel fear, which causes a great upset in my personality. When I realize it, I am practically running; I am paralyzed at the sound of a whisper saying "Krisslayn", and I have reached the point where I cannot tell if it is true or if it is also a product of my mind. The moment I least expect it, I feel the tears running down my cheeks, and the road is much longer than usual.
I get to the publisher and feel that a weight has been removed from my back, I am in my comfort zone. I start with my work and I feel like I'm being watched, but there's no one around me; with the passage of a few minutes my neck hurts from moving it so much to the sides, the feeling that I'm not alone has returned.
I see a shadow out of the corner of my left eye and I place all my attention on not taking my eyes off the manuscript in front of me, which does not help much, because it is a story of wandering souls. Unexpectedly, a hand comes straight out of the leaves I hold in my hands and starts pulling on my face, whispering my name in a hypnotic chant..
I let myself be carried away by the tranquility produced by the tone of his voice, and before I can react, I am falling down a hole, where all that surrounds me is water. I am beginning to notice how the shadows that were present during these long hours take shape. Some are pretty and interesting, some are just creepy.
Each and every one of them observe me and sing in the same voice "She has arrived";.
In my next post:
Original text and illustration @ori.bvcbooksEncounters with the unexpected (Part II): "Under the ground there are things we don't know"
