It appears that, once again, I have a computer in my possession. Times are tight, after all, and after the third time my laptop took a bullet for me I decided that, perhaps, continuing to purchase computers was not a worthwhile investment. Recently I have moved into an apartment and, as such, it seemed appropriate to acquire a desktop and return to this blog. While I attempt to articulate the resolution to the cliffhanger I appear to have left you with, here's yet another yarn.
Not long ago, a man began to forget. Nothing material, at first, he simply forgot his dreams. Although not odd for many people, this man had enjoyed being able to recall most, if not all of his dreams. He mourned the loss of his nightly jaunts, sure, but he paid it little mind. It was when his roommate reported to him that he had been screaming in his sleep and wandering about the apartment that he began to wonder if there was something else going on.
The roommate could never exactly recall how he discovered these screaming episodes, only vaguely recalling waking up and encountering the man sleepwalking. When pressed for details, he could never supply them. Even when he consciously decided to keep an eye out, he could never remember the specifics. Not even when he stayed awake and waited and even tried to blog, he could only recall vague sentiments. At his wit's end, the roommate set up a video feed one night. The next morning, he watched it.
The tape ran for a while, until the familiar screaming started. The roommate's eyes were glued to the screen as he saw the culprits. Ivory white things appeared in the footage, like spiders made of bone and bleached muscle. To say they appeared is misleading. They appeared retroactively - when they suddenly blipped into existence in the footage, crawling all over the man and buzzing, they had been there all along.
The spiders cluttered close, probosces emerging from what appeared to be their heads as they all swarmed about the man's heads. Wet slurping sounds dominated the audio for several minutes, accompanied by the man's muffled screaming. Then it was over, the spiders gone, for they had never been. The man rose from his bed, blood running from his face and panic in his eyes.
"Peter! Peter!" He shouted, banging at the door of his room. The door creaked open, revealing the roommate with tired eyes and blood running down his face.
"Go back to bed. I swear, I'll never get any sleep with your racket."
The door closed, and the tape ended. The roommate Peter stared blankly at the screen, suddenly aware of the several holes bored into his skull. Then, just as suddenly, he wasn't.
"Anything on the tape, Peter?" The man asked.
"Nah. I think you're just crazy or something."