Tales

The night was dark and the sky was grey. The first thing that seemed strange to Aaron Silver was the lack of lightning that accompanied the constant thunder. The slow, steady droplets of rain tapped lightly on the screen window, while the wind was calm and relaxed. The trees swayed in a drunken dance of the night, but the wind was hardly enough to move them much.

Aaron was lying uncomfortably beneath the sleeping bag, hoping that it could warm him enough to let him sleep. But the shadows still swayed unnaturally on the tent. The trees hurled themselves toward it. Then, as the leaves brushed fresh water on the side of the tent, they ricocheted into the night.

His pillow was wet, both with rain water and with sweat. After trying to run back from the latrine, he had found rain sprinkling on top of him. Now the pillow he had placed his head on was dreadfully uncomfortable. His drying hair continued to cluster and itch as it soaked the mixture back toward Aaron's scalp.

The darkness played with his eyes, seeming to get brighter and darker as the constant shadows blended with the tent's interior. As the shadows swayed back, Aaron could see dark objects lying on the floor, in bizarre shapes that his imagination loved to play with. No flash preceded the thunder, thus not helping Aaron to make sure the dark objects were normal things. He had to get his flashlight.

The shadows returned to the tent, blending more darkness upon the omnipresent darkness, forever blackening Aaron's vision. His hand passed through the floor of the tent, rolling over small stones and sticks that tried to break into the tent. He hit a puddle of liquid, slipping it across toward a pile of sand, which attached itself to him.

Thunder struck from the outside world as the rain started to become heavier.

Finally, the dark shadows swung away, revealing an increased speed as the wind grew to a breeze. Aaron was able to adjust to the brighter darkness, seeing what looked like his pack. He reached for it.

Lightning finally illuminated the tent for half a second. Aaron was reaching for the large object in his tent, which never became totally clear, but the lightning from outside flashed over two small objects that reflected back to Aaron. The two objects were round and close together, like the eyes of a beast.

As darkness returned, Aaron shot his hand back, some of the cold liquid flying onto his cheek.

He was stunned to the point of immobility. He simply stared at where the lightning had reflected, looking into the eyes of the thing in his tent. The thunder arrived, but Aaron did not flinch; he simply remained in a fixed position, looking almost like a corpse lying stiff in a coffin. He could even here the wind mourning in her black dress, crying tears that fell onto his casket, the never ending roar of weeping, and the flashes of light that attempted to ease her pain.

Yet the darkness did not move.

The creature remained as still as he.

The wind grew stronger, swaying the tent slightly. The drop of liquid on Aaron's face began to slip down, leaving a dried trail of crust. It was not water, because his body did not absorb it. It was something thicker, something that dried onto his warm skin.

Yet the darkness did not move.

The creature remained as still as he.

The fire of those eyes lingered in Aaron's mind as the droplets of water sprinkled in from the window. He could still see the small balls of light flash into him, the image burning onto his cornea. The eyes had looked directly at him.

The rain began to hit harder, making fiercer noises as they rapped on the tent surface. The night shadows seemed to get darker, revealing nothing for Aaron to see.

But he did not want to see. Perhaps he would see the same horrifying image if lightning struck, an image that would stalk him all night. Thunder shook the tent.

Yet the darkness did not move.

Aaron decided that there could not be anything there; no monster was hiding in the shadows. There had to be a logical explanation. Even as he tried to reason with his irrational, infantile trepidation, his body refused to move. So did the darkness.

The wind began to whistle through the screen window, throwing balls of water on Aaron and his pillow. The trees became wild, dancing faster and faster in the moonlight, trying to emerge from their roots and sway into the night. The thunder became louder and more vicious.

The liquid on Aaron's face dripped onto his pillow as it diluted with the newly formed sweat on his temples. The darkness was mocking him; the night was playing a cruel prank to amuse itself. It refused to move, only letting the wind and the trees drive him insane as they flowed across the tent.

A sting erupted from Aaron's arm.

In pure reflex, he swung his wet hand across and slapped the mosquito. The sound emerged loudly from the darkness and Aaron froze in sudden panic.

Yet the darkness did not move.

There was nothing in the darkness, it would have reacted. The monster was an inanimate object, in a haphazard shape, dazzling Aaron's imagination.

He relaxed and let the rhythm of the hell outside calm him. He closed his eyes. A new, more complete darkness overwhelmed him and the first thoughts of sleep entered his mind.

A loud clap of thunder abruptly shook Aaron back into reality, though, and he opened his eyes. He was able to see the shades of black in the darkness, as shadows and water tickled the tent. The storm had begun to relax, but the thunder had gotten closer.

He looked back at where the large, ominous object had been, hoping to see the same thing completely unchanged.

Yet the darkness had moved.

Every tired cell in Aaron's body awoke in panic, blood rushing through them as his heart began to roll. His lungs tried to keep up with his increased breathing rate, but the shock on Aaron's mind resisted it.

Aaron covered his eyes, hoping to wipe away the fake image of nothingness, but was only overwhelmed with the slightly tinted liquid. It was red, blood red.

This was a nightmare. It had to be a terrible, ridiculous nightmare. When he awoke, he would laugh at the stupid dream, if he even remembered it.

But when the second flash of lightning filled the tent, an object caught the corner of Aaron's eye. He turned quickly and looked at it.

The wind blew harder, the rain became intense, and the thunder exploded the air. The trees became violent, dancing a horrible dance of death, but the night sky simply looked into Aaron's tent and watched.

It watched Aaron as he stared into the eyes of a dark creature, whose breath stung his heart.

That night, Aaron Silver died.