Daily Prompt: Faint
From Streaming Sarah:
As I closed my eyes to sleep, a white light crossed my peripheral vision. My heart quickened. I turned toward the movement and exhaled when I realized it was the headlights of my neighbor’s car creating a beam of light on the far wall. It disappeared as quickly as it appeared. I rested my head back on the pillow hoping for a few hours of sleep. From the far corner of the room, I heard three male voices singing something that sounded like Happy Birthday. I strained to hear. It was faint, but it was definitely Happy Birthday. Only it wasn’t my birthday. When I tried to turn my head in the direction of the voices, something or someone slammed my head back into the pillow and held it there. I pushed against the hand with my head trying to turn it in the direction of the voices. I was pinned with such force the pillow raised around my head. Suddenly, the singing stopped and the pressure against my head lifted. I sat up and curled my legs underneath me, crouched, ready to spring forward and out of the room.
The room filled with an eerie glow. As my eyes grew accustomed to the light reflecting off of the walls and ceiling, the fluorescent glow revealed symbols and handwriting. It looked as though the symbols were drawn with Luminol. Only the result wasn’t blood patterns like you would see at a crime scene when Luminol was sprayed by the Criminal Investigation tech. Was it a message? From whom?
I closed my eyes to see if I was hallucinating. The images were still there. I tried blinking, alternating closed and open eyes. The images would not disappear. I couldn’t make out a pattern and I had never seen the symbols before. They seemed to be a blend of chemistry symbols and drawings of squares, circles, triangles. Unlike the blue glow of the blood at a crime scene, these patterns were a mix of lime-green and candy-apple red. Am I projecting these images? How can I see them on the wall and with my eyes closed?
The images began to fade as though they were melting back into the ceiling and walls. The next voice kicked my fear into high gear. It was angry and loud.
“Why haven’t you arrested him?”
My detective instincts took over. I turned on the lamp and grabbed my journal. The voice was new.
“Saul Alexander? Is this Sarah?”
How is this possible? How does she know I am working on her case?
“We tried. He has an alibi. He was at a convention; he didn’t do this.”
The room dropped 30 degrees, and I could see my breath in front of me. My bed shook as she screamed.
“He is a liar. Arrest him!”
The bulb in my lamp burst and a painting flew off the wall above the headboard, narrowly missing my head. Shit. Can spirits hurt me? I hadn’t even considered that.