The Search for Abraham Portman - Book the First [ON HOLD]

~Chapter 2: Notes or Nothing~

I stumbled back into my grandfather's workroom, remembering to close the door behind me. I didn't realize I was holding my breath until I almost passed out. I inhaled sharply, then made toward his workspace. I gathered all the scattered photographs, trying not to think about how he'd tell me about these 'monsters' while showing me these.

I found an old cigarette box in another shelf, then gently placed the photographs in them, before closing it. I found my dad shredding old documents in an almost-bare room.

I offered him the box; he didn't ask what was in it.

We rode back home in silence, and I almost ran for my room. I wanted to sleep, to wake up and realize that the monster was something I'd just envisioned.

I didn't even bother to get ready. I fell asleep as soon as I hit the bed.

***

The next thing I knew, I was crouching in a corner of my grandfather's bedroom, a plastic pink gun in my hand. My grandfather himself was kneeling in front of a vending machine, which had replaced the bed. Instead of candy, this one was filled with guns and other weaponry.

He cursed as he inserted coins into the vending machine, one by one, but it took a lot to buy a gun, and we were running out of time.

Just as the door flew open, a small gun fell from its slot, but it got stuck, and it wouldn't come out.

My grandfather cursed, louder this time, and shoved his arms into the vending machine to get it out himself, but now he was stuck too.

The creature stalked into the room, dripping black and brandishing its tentacles, which, I now realized with some horror, were its tongues.

My grandfather was now yelling out to me, but it was in Polish, and I couldn't understand a lot of what he was saying. That was when one of the monsters tongues wrapped around his torso, pulling him toward it.

I tried to shoot the monster with my pink plastic gun, but nothing happened.

I screamed, and my vision soon faded into darkness.

***

I woke, panting, to worried expressions by my parents. I was rambling, and without being able to stop myself, I told them all about it.

Of course, they wondered if I'd gone insane and took me to a psychiatrist; an old, frail man. His name was Dr Golan.

I told him everything, what I'd seen in the forest behind my grandfather's house, and what had happened in my dream. He listened intently, making a few remarks here and there. He occasionally wrote something down in a pad of paper, nodding to himself.

After I was done, he talked to me gently, about how I'd felt, and what I'd been thinking of when I went there.

I told him everything I could remember.

Before I knew it, the session was over. I stuffed my hands into my pockets as I stood to go, only to feel a folded piece of paper in one.

I remembered the piece of paper I'd found, addressed to me, in a compartment in my grandfather's workspace. I wanted to read it at home, preferable alone, but Golan had seen me notice something.

'What is it?' He questioned.

I wanted to pretend that I'd noticed nothing, but I knew that he would probably see right through me. I pulled out the now-crinkled piece of paper, and explained from where I'd gotten it. Just as I'd predicted, he asked me to read it out to him.

I unfolded the piece of paper, and for the first time, got to see what was written in it.

To my surprise, the words written on it made as much sense as whatever was happening to me right now. I was okay with it, though, because it was the note or nothing.