Memento Mori (MxM)

Chapter 2

Sleep did not come easy for Calael, who had always struggled when it came to sleeping in an unfamiliar space. Sleep leaves one vulnerable, after all, and Calael had always been one to gravitate towards the corner of a crowded room for the familiar security of two walls flanking him. This was his house now, yes, but a house and a home were entirely different concepts, and this bedroom did not even vaguely resemble something of his own creation. The bed was not his own, and creaked whenever he moved, springs prodding him indiscriminately in the back hard enough to leave deep red marks against his skin.

Even the wallpaper was paining him. It was a faded yet gaudy floral covering that looked as though it belonged to a different generation. Calael was, frankly, opinionated about hone decor. He was not of the belief that such dreadful repeated patterns belonged all over the wall, like some dreadful half ditched effort at a mural. Art was for frames. Anything larger stripped the art of its very definition. It faded into its surroundings.

He rolled over to turn off the lamp, reaching out to touch the switch, but was startled as a cold feeling abruptly brushed over his fingertips; as though a chillingly cool breeze had rushed in from an open window. He frowned a little, rubbing his fingers together to warm them.

Barely a second passed, after he registered this, before the light began to flicker. He watched it struggling to maintain its brightness in the bulb with silence, a faint electrical buzzing sound humming from within the lamp, before without warning, the room was enveloped in a thick, crushing darkness.

There was truly nothing in the world like the darkness of the countryside in Spring. He was overwhelmed by it, and felt the sudden urge to pull his hand back under the sheets into the warmth, like the shadows themselves could reach out and grab it. 

More unnervingly perhaps was that his hand hadn't even touched the switch, and he couldn't imagine it being anything like his own, modern lamp that used a motion sensor; it was covered by a lace doily, for heaven's sake!

He swallowed hard, staring into the pitch black void of his bedroom, and fumbled around for his phone. He never let the device go far, and found it incredibly difficult to believe that it would be farther than his nightstand. Not the pillow, of course, never the pillow; the risk of it overheating and bursting into flames was too great. But his nightstand. Someone so introverted  needed something like a mobile phone to get by in the modern world, a crutch to depend on. An excuse to avoid conversation on the train, a means of keeping in touch with friends he was otherwise too drained to reach out to, and a tool to conduct his business.

So why couldn't he feel it?

He felt along every inch of the nightstand blindly, then let out a weak sigh, and followed the wire of the lamp along the click the switch again. Only nothing happened. He clicked it back and forth but the bulb would offer no light whatsoever. Had it died? He supposed that explained why it had turned off so abruptly, but the timing seemed absolutely inconceivable.

The thought now entered his mind that he must have left it in the kitchen. It was highly uncharacteristic of him, but far more plausible than any alternative. He shifted back the covers and carefully swung his legs over the edge of the mattress. The man could make out the narrow crack of light on the other side of the bedroom door, which served as his beacon in the night as he stepped surreptitiously through the midnight haze and towards the hallway.

It was exactly when he opened the door that the light behind him switched back on.

A chill raced uncontrollably down his spine, and a feeling of being anything but alone in the room was overwhelming, though he knew for a fact that he had to be. Still, he grabbed the door handle, rushed from the bedroom and closed it over behind him, leaving it barely ajar. His eyes were a little wider now, before finally forcing himself to pull together and look at his precious facts. This house was old. The furniture was old. Therefore, lamps were bound to glitch, and there was no reason for him to be behaving so erratically.