The Wake Demon
A short story about a long day
“Why don’t you sleep?”
I looked at the dark, indefinable shape shedding its ash on my quilt.
“You’re in the way.”
“I will move.”
It oozed down to the end of my bed, hanging off its edge, coating my comforter in a trail of grey-red slime. With a deep breath, I turned back to my computer monitor. The spreadsheet was frozen again. I swirled the window around my screen. Nothing. I jiggled the display cable and hit the side of the case with an open palm. My cursor flickered on again. I pounded my fist on the table, and the pile of empty energy drinks trembled. That’s right, Bang. Fear my power.
“What are you doing?”
It still perched on the edge of my bed but had extended a sinuous appendage around the top of my monitor. A chittering sound emerged from its smoky, spiny, spherical tip, hovering over my head.
“Work,” I grumbled. My house guest clacked something chitinous within its maw.
“Is it important?”
“Don’t you have anything important to do?”
Long, limp, tendrils fell and groped across the top of my screen. Ash sprinkled down into the cracks of my keyboard. If not for the aura of utter desolation emanating from my guest, I would have reached up and choked the damn thing.
“What is important?”
I jumped up from my chair and paced across the room. It immediately recoiled, retracting the tendrils and it’s spherical appendage back into the central mass on my bed. I could feel it watching me.
“Okay,” I said, staring at my feet, clenching my fists. “You want my attention? Fine.”
Holding my breath, I raised my head to stare at my guest. It had grown significantly since it moved in four days ago, practically engulfing my twin bed. The chests of normal creatures rise and fall with each breath. But its hulking, erratic form sat perfectly still.
“Speak!” I shouted, lunging forward, shaking my hands. Tears brimmed in my eyes. I was used to long hours, the crunch, reaching my peak while on the verge of my breaking point. I hadn’t realized until now what lay beyond that break—I was pitiful.
“What do you want me to say?”
A sound between a groan and a scream crashed out of my throat. I wanted to throw it out the window. I wanted to kill it.
“You seem upset,” it said. “Some sleep might help.”
“Hah. Haha. You’re funny. They never said you had a sense of humor. Maybe you are just in my head.”
“You can rationalize me however you want.”
I staggered. Forcing my eyes open wide, I dug the thin edge of my fingernails into my palms. I sprinted to my fridge, then remembered I’d already had my last energy drink. I tore apart my desk drawers, but I was out of nicotine patches. And adderall.
“Thank god,” I whispered when my fingers found a single stick of nicotine gum left in my pack. Chewing vigorously, I stared my guest down.
“Okay. Okay. What are my odds?”
“One-hundred percent. If you sleep, you will never see me again.”
“But I might die.”
“You will still never see me again.”
I spat at it, forgetting I had gum in my mouth, and sacrificed my last tether to the waking world. It spewed ash back at me. Cheeky bastard.
“How about this. Fight me. I win, you fuck off and we both pretend this never happened. You win, you better put me to sleep.”
“I will not fight you in this state.”
“That’s fine by me!” I yelled, charging. I didn’t care how fast it was. I didn’t care what it was. The forums had called it the Wake Demon, the Dream Eater, all kinds of poetic shit. No one I’d read about had beaten it, but there had to be a first.
I aimed for its center of mass and lunged, attempting to grapple it. It didn’t move away or block my attack. I braced myself for impact, but just as quickly as my arms met it’s slimey black tendrils and spines, they collapsed into ash. It all turned to ash, and I kept moving forward.
Crack. A bolt of pain ripped through my skull.
I opened my eyes. Around me stretched an enormous, dark cavern. It stank of sulfurous wetness. A fire crackled in front of me, and behind it sat a child, a brown-haired girl in a striped shirt, tattered jeans and red sneakers. She raised her head and smiled.
“You lost.”
I recognized the voice of my guest.
“Cheap trick,” I grumbled, rubbing the point of impact on my head.
“It was self-defense.”
“Sure. Alright. What now?”
I accepted that I was asleep and dreaming. I was where it wanted me. But I wasn’t going to lower my guard.
“Now? There is no now. There is only now. Be specific.”
The fire popped. Embers shot up and flew away as fireflies.
“You said this was a test. What do I need to do?”
The girl laughed. She stood and stretched her arms. Then she jumped into the open flame.
“Whoa whoa whoa!”
I lunged to grab her arm and pull her out, but I couldn’t move. Tendrils of fire worked their way up the girl’s blistering legs, and she just laughed. And grew. Taller and taller. Her face changed too.
I couldn’t place her name, but she looked like an actress. She was gorgeous.
“Will you save me now, Shane?”
I couldn’t move. I tried to speak, but my mouth just made strange vowel sounds.
“What’s wrong, Shane?”
The woman was growing older and older. Her brunette hair became grey. Her legs had burnt to charred pillars.
“Where’s your heart, Shane?”
I wanted to help her. I tried. But I still couldn’t move. I had to watch as her head dried to a husk before the flames had even reached it. As her body collapsed into ash, the fire went out.
The darkness didn’t last long. Another fire appeared before me, casting light onto green pine needles and dry stumps. A campfire.
My legs collapsed underneath me. I had been straining them all this time. At least I could move again. As I pulled myself up to sit on a stump, brushing dirt and dead leaves off my jeans, I noticed an old man sitting across from me. Light cast harsh shadows on the wrinkles around his grey eyes and jowly mouth.
“That wasn’t fair.”
The old man stared at the fire and smiled.
“What do you mean?”
“That wasn’t a fair test, I couldn’t move. I wanted to help her.”
The man frowned and reached into his pocket. He pulled out a lemon and bit into it. Juice ran down his chin and dripped, sizzling on the hot stones around the fire.
A voice came from the woods to my right.
“Oh, sorry, we thought this was our camp.”
I turned and saw a woman in a down coat and a fuzzy hat, a full pack on her shoulders. My heart raced. She shouldn’t be here.
“Zoey?”
“Uh, yeah. Who are you?”
A little boy ran out of the woods and clung to her pants. His green and purple windbreaker was torn and covered in leaves.
“Shane.”
“That’s my name,” the boy whispered, suddenly very interested in me. He started to walk towards me when the woman put a restraining hand on his shoulder. I remembered this now.
“My apologies,” the old man said. “It’s colder than I expected, and I was drawn to your fire. I’ll be on my way.”
The old man started to stand, his joints popping and creaking. The boy tugged at Zoey’s sleeve and whispered to her.
“Wait,” she said. “He, uh, wants to know if you’d like to make s’mores with us.”
“Oh, that’s very kind. Are you sure that’s alright?”
Zoey looked to me, clearly uncomfortable. I wanted to stay. I wanted to stay here forever. But I didn’t belong anymore. Neither did the old man.
“We should go,” I told him, standing, striding over to take his arm. I led him away from the fire. As sticks and brush crunched beneath my feet, I felt the man grow lighter and lighter. I looked at him as we hit a patch of moonlight, but he was gone.
I decided to circle back. As quietly as I could, I followed the orange dot in the distance until I could clearly see the fire again. Zoey and the child sat on a blanket, roasting marshmallows. The kid couldn’t stop talking. Zoey just nodded and oohed and aahed at his stories.
Crack.
Zoey had a flashlight on my face instantly.
“What do you want? Where’s the other man?” she demanded, holding onto the kid.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”
Zoey stood and slowly backed away. I blinked, trying to see around the painful point of light in my eyes.
“I’m sorry, I promise I’ll go now, really.”
I started to back away too. Then Zoey screamed. She dropped the light. My eyes were still blotched-out and burning, but I saw a flash of firelight on the old man’s arm and Zoey’s twisting torso.
“Let her go!” I shouted. I ran toward them. The kid screamed and kicked at the old man’s leg. He wrapped his arm tighter around Zoey’s neck. She clawed at his face, gasping, fighting to stay out of the fire he dragged her towards.
My legs burned and my lungs felt like bursting. I wasn’t any closer. I ran harder. The kid grabbed the old man’s coat and pulled, but he slipped, his sneakers flying out from under him. Crack. The kid’s head hit a rock.
“Stop it!” I yelled. The old man looked at me briefly. Smiling. Zoey wasn’t clawing at his face now. He picked up her body and dumped it on the fire.
I stopped running. I couldn’t breathe. My throat closed up and I shrieked. I couldn’t look. I couldn’t watch this time. I couldn’t. I couldn’t.
The ground beneath my feet shifted into something soft and slippery. I fell, landing in sand. Seagull cries and crashing waves filled my ears. I opened my eyes.
Zoey lay in front of me, on a beach towel, wind tossing her ginger curls.
“Stop brooding and just relax already. It’s gonna storm soon.”
I sat back, leaning on a beach bag, taking in the kids and dogs running through the surf.
“Where’s Carrie?”
“Now you’re just trying to make me worry.”
“No, honestly, I don’t see her.”
Zoey sat up and put on her tortoiseshell sunglasses. After scanning the horizon, she sighed.
“She’s right there, with Andy. Jesus, Shane.”
“You can never be too careful.”
“You’re paranoid, you know.”
“I’m just teasing you.”
Wind dusted the side of my face with sand. I watched Zoey settle back down on her towel. I remembered the burning.
“Did that really happen?”
“What? You being an idiot?”
“No. I mean—when you used to take me camping. Did someone ever…”
“What?”
It sounded ridiculous to say now. I would have been interrupted anyway.
A child shrieked. Then another. A chorus of screams erupted with the sound of a heavy crash on the shore. A dark shape rose out of the water. Everyone scattered. Zoey sprung up and grabbed my hand.
“Come on!”
“It’s okay. I know it.”
She stared at me, then looked to her husband and child and ran after them. The shape stepped, then oozed, then wriggled, then flopped, making its way toward me.
“Tired of human disguises?”
“I do not tire.”
“That’s not—what do you want?”
“I expected more dreams of spreadsheets.”
“Aren’t you controlling all of this?”
“No. Also, you will wake up soon. I have to perform your exit interview.”
“I…passed?”
“This was not a test.”
“But you said—hold on, you said you were testing me, and I might not survive.”
“It is intergalactic law to fully inform all experimental subjects about a study’s inherent risks.”
“Study?”
“Yes. Thank you for completing DE529’s Sleep Study. Your cooperation, although combative, has been crucial to our scientific efforts. As compensation, you will receive Xsdo183& when my supervisor’s ship reaches your planet in 2,947 Earth years.”
As quickly as my guest had appeared, it began to float and drift away, like any other cloud in the sky. That world faded, and I slowly woke in another. I was on my own bed, alone. I laid still for a long time. My head throbbed, and I felt a little nauseous.
It was very quiet now. Almost silent. Holding my head, I walked to the window. People were walking down the sidewalk, driving their cars, sitting on porches. It was just another morning for most of them, but not all.
Logging back onto the forum, I prepared to write a detailed account of my guest and my dreams. But as I typed, I found myself omitting certain details, or rewriting them entirely. When I got to the old man and my sister at the campfire, I deleted everything and logged off. I opened my recent calls. It had been six months since I last talked to her. I let the phone ring on speaker so my shaking hand wouldn’t have to hold it.
“Shane? What’s wrong?”
“Hey sis. Nothing, actually. I just…wanted to talk.”
“Oh. Really?”
“Yeah.”
“Um. Okay. It’s good to hear your voice! How have you been?”
“Busy with work, as usual. I’m actually getting kind of tired of the city. Do you remember those camping trips we used to go on?”
“Oh yeah! You were my little fire man. Made some really good s’mores.”
“Yeah, they were pretty great.”
“Did you—were you going to ask if we wanted to take a trip with you?”
“No, uh. I mean I would love to, really. But I just wanted to thank you. You always took care of me. And I felt bad I couldn’t do that for you too, like I was a burden, but…I just wanted to thank you. I know it wasn’t always easy. You shouldn’t have had to do any of that.”
Zoey was quiet on the end of the line.
“Zoe?”
“I wanted to. And you’re not a burden. Stupid and annoying, like any little brother, but…never a burden.”
It helped to hear that, but I couldn’t totally shake the feeling.
“Do Carrie and Hannah know how to start a fire?” I asked.
“No, they don’t. Do you want to teach them? We have a big yard here. Enough for a starter camp.”
I grinned.
“I’d be honored.”
Thank you for reading Every Nook Uncanny. If you liked what you read, please share and comment. The audio version of this story will be available this Friday. You can follow Mae on Twitter.