Written December 28, 2018

He awoke drenched in sweat and breathing raggedly. His pale eyes were wild and his back was stiff. The woman beside him, his wife, stirred, groaning slightly and mumbling for him to lie down. But he did not hear her. He scanned the room frantically, turning his head this way and that like a rabid dog, jumping at the slightest sound.

After what seemed like an eternity he settled back in his bed, straining to hear beyond the reckless howl of the wind. It was then that he knew he was not alone. He felt a silent presence watching him, blending with the ominous darkness of the room. He could not see it, but its volume was overwhelming—so palpable that he felt himself slowly suffocating under its weight. It was heavier than the humidity of a summer afternoon. He could almost sense its grotesque mass lean on him, its fingers wrap around his neck ever so tenderly and gradually tighten with each passing minute. No scream could fend it away. No cry for help would be answered.

The wind continued its lament.

• • •

“Darling, you haven’t had a sip of your coffee yet.”

The noonday sun shed an ocher light over its kingdom. Will turned from the café window to the face of his wife, her slender eyebrows knitted with concern and her red smile one of encouragement. He glanced at the full mug of dark liquid.

“You’re right.” He uttered the words with an air of indifference and reached for some sugar.

“Why, Will, you already put three spoons of sugar in there. That’s going to be some awfully sweet coffee. Are you alright?”

“Yeah, Will, you don’t look too good. I can drive you and Evelyn home. It wouldn’t be any trouble,” said Will’s friend, who was sitting opposite him.

Will’s clammy hands released the spoon. “I’m fine. Just hot and tired, is all.”

A moment passed as the two people stared at Will in silence. His wife glanced at a thermometer on a nearby wall. It was seventy-two degrees Fahrenheit. “What was it you were saying, Ryan?” She said, simply to put an end to her discomfort.

“I was saying how these days your only enemy is yourself.”

Will glanced up sharply. “What?”

“Oh, I know you don’t like it when I get all philosophical on you, Will, but I have proof. Two days ago a friend called me up. He was panicking. He told me that he got fired from his job. I was confused, because he had just gotten a promotion, and he was perfect for it. There shouldn’t have been anything that prevented him from being successful. Yet he got fired.”

“Seems like pretty shallow evidence, Ryan. Lots of people get fired from jobs that they’re seemingly perfect for,” Will said automatically.

“I know. I know, it’s just—well, I was thinking out loud, I guess.” Ryan frowned. Then he smiled and shrugged. “Life happens.”

“It certainly does.” Evelyn sighed.

Will’s voice lowered to a harsh whisper. He looked into the distance. “Everyone is the creator of their own demise.”

Evelyn laughed nervously. “That was very melancholic of you, dear.” She pushed her husband’s mug towards him. “Here, have some coffee, it’ll make you feel better.” 

The day ripened and the air grew sweeter with the passing of the hours. People came and went out of the café door, the bell above it ringing merrily. If it was another day, Will would have been content in the pleasant setting, chatting lightly with his friend and wife. His right arm would have woven around Evelyn’s waist, and her head would have rested on his shoulder. He would joke with Ryan about subjects of no importance. 

But it was not another day. Will was being watched. Intently. And the sweetness of the air and gaiety of the atmosphere did nothing but make the feeling worse. It meant that no one else sensed the presence.

“Well, Ryan. Thank you for a lovely day.” Will heard Evelyn say.

“It’s always my pleasure, Evelyn. Will,” Ryan turned to his friend, “You take care of yourself. Feel better soon.” He stuck out his hand. 

Will stared at it for a few seconds and took it reluctantly. “Thank you.”

Evelyn held Will’s arm. “Goodbye.”

Ryan waved cheerfully. “Bye. See you soon.”

The couple made their way to their car. Will was about to open the driver’s door when Evelyn stopped him. “Let me, Will. You’re not well.”

Will paused before opening the passenger door and glanced behind him. Thunder clouds were beginning to form in the distance, but no storm would be large enough to rid Will of the looming presence that observed him so intensely. 

• • •

Evelyn was in the kitchen. Smells of spices and vegetables wafted out into the living room. Will was sitting in a chair. His hands clutched its arms and his eyes darted from one corner of the room to another. Droplets of perspiration collected on his brow. He did not see his wife enter the room and stare at him. Several minutes passed.

“Will,” she said faintly. She received no answer. “Will, you’re frightening me.” Her voice wavered when she spoke.

“Something…” Will began. The sentence trailed off.

“What? Will, please. Please tell me what’s the matter.”

“You should go, Evelyn. It’s not safe for you here.”

“What do you mean?”

Will rose from the chair abruptly and looked directly into his wife’s eyes. “Something is watching me. Don’t ask me what it is, I don’t know. All I know that if it’s watching me, it must be watching you, too. Get away from here, Evelyn.” He walked towards her quickly and gripped her shoulders. “Now.”

“Will, you don’t know what you’re saying.” Evelyn frowned. “Or you do, and this is all a joke. If it is, Will, stop it. Stop it this instant.”

“It’s no joke, Evelyn.”

Evelyn began to smile. Her posture relaxed. She chuckled slightly. “Alright, Will. Alright. Whatever you say. Come on, dinner’s ready.”

She attempted to get out of her husband’s firm grip. He held her for a few seconds more, then let go. She rubbed her arms in discomfort. They stood facing each other.

“I’m not hungry. I’m going upstairs,” he said, breathing heavily.

Evelyn opened her mouth in protest, but changed her mind. “Okay. Are you sure?”

Will nodded absentmindedly, clinging to the banister.

“Wait.” Evelyn rushed to her husband and kissed him on the cheek. She looked into his eyes, but they were hollow.

• • •

Her fingernails tapped relentlessly on her plate. Nothing else could be heard but the gentle twittering of birds outside. They were sitting at their breakfast table by an open window. The breeze blew the wispy curtain into the room.

Will looked up to find his wife’s squinted eyes boring into him, her lips pursed. He sighed, leaning back in his chair. “What?”

“What?” His wife repeated harshly. “I’ll tell you what, Will. What is the matter with you? You haven’t spoken to me in three days, you won’t eat, you won’t sleep, but instead sit up in bed until all hours of the night mumbling things under your breath. And whenever I attempt to comfort you or ask you about it, you say you’re fine and walk away. So either stop all of this, or tell me what’s wrong.”

Will studied his wife. When he spoke, he spoke slowly, enunciating each word carefully. “I told you, Evelyn. Something is watching me.”

“What Will? What is watching you?” She asked pleadingly.

Will continued to speak slowly. “I can’t explain it, Evelyn. I can’t explain it because there are no words for its description. It is in no physical form. It is not something you can touch. But it can touch you. You must believe me, Evelyn.”

Evelyn’s mouth was open and formed words, but no sound issued from her lips. Finally, she cried, her voice cracking, “You’re…you’re insane. Absolutely mad.” She scrambled away from the table, walking backwards in horror as if Will were a menacing wolf. She looked at the front door, back at Will, and ran.

But Will was not alone.

• • •

A frost glazed excruciatingly over Will’s spine. His entire being shook as he turned his head toward the place where his wife had been sitting. It was there. Suddenly, Will screamed. “What do you want with me?!” Needless to say it was a rhetorical question. He did not expect the thing to speak. It was possible he even knew the answer, subconsciously. But it did speak. Its voice was raspy and painful to the ears. It pierced Will’s entire being like a knife with a million blades.

“Everyone is the creator of their own demise,” it said.

Will clutched his ears and pulled his hair ferociously. “You are destroying me! Get out! Get out!”

“I am you. You are me. We are each other,” it replied. If spoken by something human, the phrase could have sounded light and playful. 

There was a ringing in Will’s ears. “Please—please, stop!”

The thing uttered a pitiless cackle that shook the universe. “Listen to yourself. Listen to yourself whine. Do you know how pathetic you are?”

Will was near tears now. “I was happy with my life before you came into it. Leave me alone.”

“You are alone. Stop lying to yourself. You do it more than you know. Lie, I mean.”

Will looked at the thing helplessly. “Who are you? What are you?” He felt the thing smile an acidic smile that burned everything in its midst.

“Let us say I am Truth.” The sentence sounded almost mocking.

They stared at each other for several minutes, Will breathing heavily and the thing relishing the agony of the silence.

At last, the presence spoke. “I always liked mirrors. I think of them as windows into eternity.”

Will glanced instinctively at a mirror hanging on the wall to his right, then back at the thing. It began again, but this time its tone was genuine.

“A word of advice: heaven and hell are one and the same. If you’re looking anywhere else but here, you’re looking in the wrong place.” It paused. “Look in the mirror. That’s where truth lies.”

The front door of the house opened. Evelyn and Ryan rushed in. “Will! Thank god you didn’t hurt yourself!”

“Evelyn! Evelyn, Ryan, it’s here. The thing—the presence—it’s here.”

The two looked at each other, their gazes ones of sadness and skepticism.

“I swear to it! Come here.” He ushered them further into the living room. His hair was disheveled and his eyes were wild with desperation. He entered the room slowly, as if stalking  prey. Then he turned to his wife and friend. “Don’t be alarmed,” he warned. Abruptly, he flung his arm in the direction of the presence. “There!” He exclaimed.

But he found himself looking into the tired eyes of his own reflection.

The Presence © Safira Schiowitz