Canary

A dose of surrealist horror from my recent entry to the Macabre Monday Wicked Writing contest!

The insomnia had gotten worse. So did the nightmares. Every night I looked to the ceiling, wishing any reprieve would come. 

Just let me sleep. Please.

Nothing worked. Nothing. Until it did.

When the grip of night would tighten around me, unknown horrors would plague my dreams. I'd find myself burning alive, a wicked figure looming from the darkness beyond the fire. It was waiting for me. It knew me, I swear it knew me. It had to. I stared in horror as I was next in line to horrible eternal tortures. A strange sound blared from around me. I felt a climbing brassy crescendo echoing across the darkness, calling to me. As it became more clear, it began to sound like music. The figure would move forward, protruding from the darkness in its large sickening form. From the flames the roiling mass of a single entity came towards me. The sound rose higher and higher into the sky as the flames rose and the figure grew into the world around me. 

I couldn’t get away. 

As quickly as it started, it ended. I woke up, drenched in sweat, my hair a tangled mass, sticking to my face. On one particular night, I wiped my face and went to the bathroom. I stared at myself in the mirror, my eyes red with exhaustion. I can’t keep this up. I can’t keep doing this. I wiped the thoughts away with the sweat and returned to bed. 

They were just dreams, weren't they? After all, I'd wake up again with only 5 minutes between the last time I checked the clock and the next.

My insomnia tracker said I wasn't sleeping at all. 

My therapist said these probably weren't dreams. Rather they were exhaustion hallucinations. He recommended some pill or another, but I figure if I'm not falling asleep then maybe I'm not meant to. So I stared at the pills on my nightstand well into the late hours of the night. I thought about the sleep that could be, but sleep was becoming too much anyway. They weren’t hallucinations. They were dreams. If I took those damn pills, I’d be trapped in a hell of my own making even longer. I’d rather think about the wonders of sleep than bear the horrors of rest any longer.

But I’d slip.

I’d fall into the beckoning night.

I’d crumble into the dark abyss of what must’ve been my innermost feelings. I felt my skin searing, and my eyes melting out of their sockets. The sound became louder and louder with every passing night. The world around me grew to heights beyond my reckoning and the shadow - oh, the shadow, that figure in the distance - loomed ever closer.

After weeks - maybe months, for I had lost count - I woke up on my bedroom floor, tangled in my blankets, my face pressed against my nightstand. My alarm had been blaring for 15 minutes. I scrambled off the ground, turned off the alarm and ran for the bathroom. The cold tiled floor shocked my system as I rushed to get ready. I showered off the sweat of the night’s terrors, brushed my teeth, and tried to get the knots out of my hair.

As I struggled to remember what to do next, a beautiful sound shook me to paralysis. A smooth jazzy song vibrated the waves of my home, emanating from my phone in the bedroom. I felt an overwhelming peace. I savored the moments as the swinging electric orchestra rocked back and forth. I took gentle rhythmic steps into my room and picked up my phone. I’m usually up before this alarm ever goes off. I always turn it off first. I stared at my phone as the time blinked across it and the music continued playing.

For the first time in months, I felt peace.

…

“Oh yeah, it’s like guided meditation.” My coworker, Irene, said as we chatted in the copy room. We were waiting for the copier to finish printing off new manuals. Frankly, I couldn’t wait to get back to my cubicle and pretend this wasn’t the sort of personal discussions I had with coworkers. “My anger management guru taught me to find my peace song.”

“Uh-huh.”

“You want to know what it is?” Irene asked, raising an eyebrow. I looked at her for a second, my mind a swirling ball of concern. Did she say anger management guru?

“Sure.”

“Unwritten by Natasha Bedingfield. It just… centers me. Helps me find my inner peace. You breathe out and project your anger to the world.” She took a deep breath in then out. As she breathed out, she raised her voice, screaming the chorus of the song. I lowered my head. 

“Thanks, Irene. I’ll - uh - I’ll try that.” I grabbed the freshly printed manual and headed to my cubicle. Most of what she said sounded like garbage to me - no better than sleeping pills - but there was something to finding a song that gave me peace. Something that helps me through the night. As Irene walked by with her updated manual, she was mumbling, “Today is when your book begins…” to herself. I opened a tab and googled Insomnia management guru. 

What a load of trash.

…

On the bus home, I let my mind drift away as music poured through my headphones. Soulful jazz became my safe place. I never liked jazz before this, but this felt new. It raised me to new heights, like I was connected to the heavens, safe in a world beyond the horrors of fire and endless suffering. Maybe this was the answer. Maybe this was salvation. 

That night when I was getting ready for bed, I felt no dread, no fear. I let the music pour forth, uplifting me. I settled into bed, plugged my phone in and relaxed my eyes. 

As I slept, the music continued. It flowed through my mind, calming my nerves, relaxing the tension in my body. 

This was peace.

I woke up in the morning, feeling restful for the first time since I could remember.

I’ve got the world on a string… 

The music filled me with excitement and vigor for life. Something I never thought I could feel again. I got out of bed with my first alarm. I felt calm and relaxed. I got ready for the day and took my time eating breakfast. I danced from room to room, humming along with the music as I went. This was what being alive could be. This was life’s promise when the sun rose each day and I woke up to meet it rather than stayed awake to greet it. 

What a world, what a life…

I did a little spin as I threw my coat on and danced to the door, then stopped short. What was that smell?

Something was burning. I began looking around my home, trying to find the cause, but I couldn't find anything. Strange. I opened the door and immediately stopped in my tracks.

Across the street, my neighbor’s home was ablaze. I stared in disbelief, unsure of what to do. What could I do? Within moments the house was surrounded by fire trucks. Geysers of water poured forth to douse the flames. I was running late for work, but it felt wrong to just leave. I walked over to a firefighter talking on a radio.

“Yeah, it’s pretty bad. Fred went in. Send an extra EMT.” He saw me approaching and continued, “Send out a patrol car too. You know how suburbanites get.”

“Is everything okay?” I asked. The man stared at me. Then back at the fire. Then back at me again.

“Everything’s great! Look at that, completely under control.” My stomach lurched with embarrassment. What a dumb question.

“Is there anything I can do?”

“Try staying out of the way. That’s a good place to start.” I cowered back to the sidewalk, feeling the heat of embarrassment on my back more than the heat of the fire. 

Back on the sidewalk were my next door neighbors. They were an older couple who I’d never spoken to before. They wore embroidered robes with the initials R and J on them. J waved to me.

“You know them?” I gestured to the burning house. She shook her head.

“Always kept to themselves.”

“Guess we all do.” The more I looked at them, the more I realized how exhausted they seemed. Bloodshot eyes, crow’s feet, glassy stares. “You okay?”

“Haven’t been sleeping well these days.” J replied. 

“Huh. Ever try inner peace?” She scrunched up her face,

“No. Can’t say I have.” She tightened her robe and crossed her arms. 

“Inner peace don’t pay the bills.” R replied. I nodded.

“That it doesn’t. Speaking of, I’m off to work.” I walked away from the blazing flames down to the bus stop.

…

“You think it was a murderer? Maybe fire was their calling card!” Irene shouted as we stood by the copier once again - yesterday’s manuals had a misprint. “Or maybe they were trying to burn the evidence. You know, I once heard a story of someone killing his partner, then burning the garage down. Jokes on him, he locked himself in by accident with the body.”

“That sounds terrible.” I replied. Irene nodded vehemently, a disconcerting grin resting on her face.

“Oh, awful. Absolutely awful. I’ll send you the link to the podcast I heard it on over slack.”

“Great.”

“How’s your sleep by the way?”

“Great, actually.” I beamed. “Yeah, best night of sleep in a while.”

“Inner peace, huh? I’m getting good at this spiritual stuff. Maybe I should start charging you for it.” I gave a courtesy laugh and excused myself as I snatched up my manual and left the room. 

…

Another well rested night was behind me. I danced across the wind as I got ready for another work day. The calling waves of a French singer swooned me over the soaring trumpets of an orchestra. How couldn't I dance to something like this?

When I made it to the door, I paused. What would face me on the outside? What might wait for me in the daylight? 

I smelled it again. I panicked, thinking I should check my home, but I remembered last time. Maybe it was the leftover stench of yesterday's fire. I took a deep acrid breath and hoped for the best. 

Then, there was a smashing knock at the door. I jumped back in surprise then jumped forward to answer. A firefighter stood opposite to me, his eyes panicked and wild.

“Hey, you've gotta get out of here!” Smoke began pouring in the front door behind him. He looked over his shoulder in a panic then back at me, “Come on, let's go!” He threw my arm over his shoulder and dragged me out. My mind was reeling and the world shifted under my feet. I looked around trying to get my bearings, but there was smoke all around me. I couldn't breathe right, couldn't think straight. 

Next thing I knew, I was sitting in the back of an ambulance having my vitals checked. An EMT approached me,

“Don't worry, you're okay. I hear your house wasn't damaged. You might have a small cough, but everything's okay. You got off lucky” As my mind began to grip the world around me, I realized music was still pouring gently from my phone in my pocket.

Crazy he calls me… sure

“I - what happened?” 

“Your neighbor's house caught fire.” She explained.

“Are they okay?” I asked. I didn't know them but I saw them all the time. I heard their arguments in the night. Heard them getting ready in the morning. I didn't know them. But I knew them. 

“I'm sorry…” the EMT replied. “Did you know them?” Poor R and J. I sighed and shook my head.

“We talked yesterday - about the first fire.”

“Don't worry, they're sending out the fire marshal to investigate the entire street for potential causes. The house across the way was ruled an accident but unless this is a coincidence…” she paused then shook her head. “Maybe get a hotel tonight - or stay with a friend for a while.” I nodded.

“I'm late for work.” 

…

Things were quiet in the office. The silence made me uncomfortable, but I left my headphones behind in the chaos of the morning. Where was Irene? I walked to the copy room and was greeted by an employee I had never seen before. He stared down at the printer, his eyes distant. I greeted him with a polite smile.

“You seen Irene?” He gave me a weird look then frowned,

“You didn't hear?” 

“Hear what?” I asked. The concern in his voice made me think he may tell me Irene died.

“She was fired last night. It was pretty big. She was on the news for assaulting someone on the subway. Apparently some teenager was chewing their gum too loud or something.”

“Noooo,” I drew the words out. I thought I might be feeling disbelief, but it made sense. I wish it didn't but… “she was doing so well…”

“Was she? She threatened Jess at the front desk last week for saying good morning too loud. Way I hear it, she was on thin ice as is. Last thing the office wanted was another wild card - I mean I - yeah.”

Another?

I shrugged and smiled, “That's true. Well, I'll see you…” man I never met before. He dismissively raised a hand as I slunk out of the room.

I think I'll miss Irene most.

The rest is still unwritten

…

I didn't get the hotel. Things were good at home and I didn't want to lose my restful streak. In honor of Irene, I played her song as I ate dinner in bed. I sat with my legs crossed and a plate of cold mac and cheese in my lap. It was warm once… I think. The music was nice, but it wasn't my inner peace. Still, I could see why she liked it. It made me feel in control. 

Of course, the neighborhood was burning around me, I lost the closest thing I had to a friend at work, and I was sitting alone in my bed with cold food. Maybe I wasn't in control. Still, I liked the illusion. 

…

That night I drifted away, back into the safety of my music. There was the faintest smell of charcoal in the distance, but it was easy to ignore with the right soulful croon.

What a world and what a life…

Safety. 

As I dozed off, I began to give myself over to the music. Finally, I found my peace. I found my solution. My hope. 

…

It happened again. From the darkness, something came for me. From beyond the flames, it encroached upon me, eating at me, devouring me. I awoke, throwing myself forward in bed, drenched in sweat. The room was draped in darkness. I sat there, gasping for air.

What went wrong?

What happened?

The music was playing, I could hear it, It should’ve been safe. It had to be. Why? Why did this happen? As my mind began to clarify against the darkness, I began to realize I didn’t know the song playing.

The brass was all wrong, the sound didn’t seem right. Didn’t feel right. The song wasn’t crooning, it was crying. It wasn’t swinging, it was hanging. It wasn’t something to live to, it was something to survive to. I felt my blood run cold, my head began to pound. Something was wrong, something messed with my music. My safety. 

I reached for my phone and paused the music.

It didn’t stop.

My heart began to pound even harder. Where was the sound coming from? The more I listened, the more I realized there wasn’t any music at all. This noise - this sound… its source…

The light of my phone screen barely illuminated my room, but it became clear. The thing. The shadow from the darkness. The colossus of my nightmares.

A great pulsating mass of cells taking the shape of a lumbering giant that overlapped and seemed to vibrate the air around it. What must surely be its head craned downward to avoid its viscous coating covering the ceiling. It was made up of visibly large cells that gyrated and pulsed across its body in time with the music - no - it was the music. The creature hummed the sounds, trying to mimic a soulful blues call. A distorted woman’s voice that howled in pain in time with the music echoed off the vibrations.

I was frozen. Trapped. It stood in the corner, millions of nuclei darting around like eyes absorbing the room. It was waiting for me. It wanted me to notice it. I tried to pretend I didn’t. Maybe I just had to make it through the night. Maybe I just needed to survive. Maybe it’d be gone in the morning. Then? A hotel. Then, just a single breath of fresh air and I’ll never come back here again.

Please.

Please.

The distorted woman’s voice soared higher, as though someone stamped down on her foot, the voice rising to meet the call.

An involuntary whimper broke free from my lips.

The music stopped. The body undulated, twisting to meet my gaze with each of its single cells. It was all. It was the devourer. It was fire. It was the end.

But there was something more. 

It smelled like something was burning.

---

Hi friends, quick housekeeping here. As always, thank you so much for reading. I’ll admit, given that this one didn’t quite perform well in its recent writing contest debut, I considered not sharing it BUT this story really grew on me. It’s weird, surreal, and was so so so much fun for me to write. So, I decided it does indeed deserve a home on this here substack. 

Coming up, I have two serials that I’m planning. One was supposed to be a standalone story, but the more I work on it, the more I think it deserves to be much longer than originally planned. I haven’t decided which is going to come out first, but that’s okay. Stay tuned for both The Dragon Mother’s Chosen and The Southern Calt. One of those might sound familiar if you’ve read other stories from the world of Astra.

And lastly, speaking of Astra, for those who enjoy it, how do we feel about a full length novel - or maybe even a trilogy in the world of Astra? I’m going to drop a poll at the end here. Feel free to throw a yes, no, or I don’t care into the poll responses. Of course, if that were a thing to happen, we’re talking a minimum of one year. I’ve written a single novel that I’ve started the sequel on, but I don’t know if it’s worth sharing or not, and even so, the first book is only a second draft so it still needs time and work. That all being said, would a novel be worth putting out into the world? I haven’t decided if I’d go the indie route or the more traditional approach. Maybe both - pursue traditional while prepping for indie if it doesn’t work out. Anyways, thanks so much for reading! Drop me a comment, or a like, or answer the poll. You know, all the fun engagement stuff! Thank you again!