The Poster

I stood before the wall, staring blankly. It happened again; I forgot what I had to do. You know that feeling where you know you were about to do something, and you forget? Yes, that. It has been happening to me a lot recently. My mind seems to still be tied to the dream I had; its extreme realism is hard to let go of. Enough of the insanity, I've got a lot of packing to do. It was the poster on the wall; that is why I came here.

After having it for a while, I think I have grown attached to it. I'm taking it with me. I began to peel it carefully from the wall, and it tore through the wallpaper. I felt my heart rip with it. I peeled the layer of wallpaper off to cut the poster out; I was not going to give up on it.

After I peeled the wallpaper, I saw markings on the wall that looked like a secret door. I knew better than to get too involved in whatever this was. I found a good reason to leave before sundown. All that was left to take was the poster anyway. The markings looked somewhat sacred; they painted a picture of what was behind that door, but I was not curious enough to know.

Maron, my cousin, came to pick up my things, and we left.

The new place was not bad. It took the whole day to get everything into the house. I set up the bedroom as best as I could, but it was not enough without the poster. I lay in bed, obsessing about it, proud I had brought it along. Then I went to sleep.

I stood before the wall, staring blankly. I had forgotten what I was about to do. I can't forget about that dream I had. The details are blurry, but it felt so real. I need to get to packing; I am moving out, and I need to get things ready before Maron gets here. I remembered I was there because of the poster. Having it for this long, the poster seems to be part of me. I need to take it along. I peeled carefully, but it ripped through the wallpaper. I felt a rip in my heart. It felt so familiar, like déjà vu.

I went ahead to peel off the layer of wallpaper to cut the poster out.

I saw sacred markings on the wall that almost looked like a secret passage. But curiosity, they say, kills the cat, so I decided to let that mystery be.

The doorbell rang. Maron was here.

Maron is my cousin; we've been very close since childhood.

"Let's get something to eat before we go," he said.

"Why do you keep asking for us to take a detour?" I complained.

"What do you mean 'always'?" he asked.

I was stunned, more like confused. Why did I say that? But it felt so right.

"What should we get, Maron?"

We went to a diner called Mommies, my favourite burger place.

"Clarince, what was that about?" He seemed worried.

Obviously, I would be curious myself.

"I need to get a smoke." I walked out.

I saw a man standing under a tree, a man in black, with long black hair and fair skin. He would be Cain's age. I don't know how old Cain is, but he would be in his good thirties. He stared as though he was waiting for me. I am not one for mystery; curiosity kills the cat. I ignored him and walked to smoke without turning toward the tree. I began to smoke, and suddenly, there he was, beside me.

"Can I have a smoke?" I froze. He stretched out his hand. I handed him one.

"You know, obsession and attachment are a poison. You are stuck, and the only way out is to give it up. It's almost new moon; you've got only a week to escape. It will be here soon, here for you. You have become a distorter. You are breaking a lot of rules, and the price is your own existence. Now you have to wake up."

He burnt my forehead with the cigarette.

The burn hurt badly. I felt dizzy. I felt myself passing out.

"Tell Maron to take you to Anansi," and then his voice faded.

Everything went dark.

The next thing I knew, I stood before the wall, staring blankly.

What was I doing there? The poster- I had grown attached to it. It had to go with me. I began to peel it, but as I peeled, I felt pain in my forehead. My desire for it exceeded the pain. It ripped through the wallpaper, and my heart ripped with it. I peeled an entire layer of the wallpaper and cut out the poster. It felt so familiar, but I got what I wanted.

The bell rang. Maron, my cousin. We packed everything into the car.

"Let's get something to eat before we go," he said.

"Why do you always keep asking for a detour?" I said, but wait. Why did I say 'always'?

Then a name rang in my head.

"Anansi," I muttered.

"What?" he asked.

"It's nothing," I replied. "Did you just say 'Anansi'?"

"Don't mind me," I replied.

"Where did you hear that name from?"

"Why are you overreacting? It's just a name."

He was quiet for a while, but I could sense the suspicion.

"Anansi is the name of my professor," he said.

"Your professor?"

"Yes, psychology, mysticism, physics. He was more of a polymath, somehow psychotic, but a genius..."

"I see."

".....and Anansi was his nickname."

I lay in bed that night, obsessing over the poster, when I noticed it had peeled off at its top right edge. I moved closer to get a better look. I tried to stick it back, but it peeled again. Then I tried once more, and it peeled entirely from the wall, taking the wallpaper with it.

My heart beat uncontrollably, sweat running down my face. The markings- I remembered the markings. How did they get here? The secret door opened by itself, and behind it was pitch blackness. I froze. My heart began to beat faster, and my breath grew louder. The lights in the room dimmed, and a dark figure slowly crept out.

It suddenly became hard to breathe. I wished I could escape, but I was stuck. The figure got closer and closer. The light went out; only the glow from outside came through the window. The figure stood before me, a human-like figure with no eyes. It reached its hands toward me, and then a hint of cigarette smoke filled the room. My forehead began to hurt, and a sudden glow came from the burn. There was a flash, and suddenly I appeared in the room of my old apartment. I stood staring at the markings, with the poster in my hand.

The doorbell rang.

"Anansi," I thought.

I met Maron at the entrance.

"Let's load up," he said.

"There's no time." I headed straight for the car.

"What is wrong?" he asked.

"Just get in the car. I need to meet Anansi."

"How do you know that name?" he asked in surprise.

"There's no time. Get in the car and get me to him."

We headed for Anansi's in silence. Then he asked me what I had in my hand. I realised I was still holding the poster.

"It's just a poster," I replied.

The drive was quiet and fast, but not too long. We arrived at an old mansion in the woods. We parked in front of it, and I followed Maron. He paused in front of the door, looked at me one last time, and rang the bell. We heard footsteps approaching, and a voice asked from behind it:

"Who is it?"

"Maron, Professor... Maron the cunning," he said, hesitating a little at the end.

The door opened.

"You little rascal," he said with great delight. "What brings you here?"

Anansi was a charming old man, not too wrinkled; he wore a robe with his glasses, as though he had been in the middle of a study.

He turned to me, and his expression changed.

"Who might you be?"

"He's Clarince, my cousin."

The poster caught his attention, and I saw a grim look on his face.

"Can we come in, Professor?"

"Of course."

"Would you like some coffee?" he offered.

"Of course, Professor."

He poured us each a cup. He sat down with a straight expression.

"Why did you bring that... here?"

"What, Professor?"

"I am talking to your cousin. How did you get it, and why did you bring it here?"

He stared at me.

"He asked me to come to you..."

"The one who gave you the light?" he asked.

I nodded.

"That sneaky fox, always finding a way to get me involved," he complained.

He dropped his cup on the table.

"I would like to ask a lot, but you don't have much time, and I can tell you have little knowledge of any of this. What you have there is a seal. He sent you here because you're stuck in a time spell. You continuously live the same moment, but time is still flowing as it should, yet you are stuck. How long did he say you have?"

"A week," I said.

"A week? What have you been doing all this time? You've wasted the whole week; now the days are slipping out. Why did you even rip it off the wall?..." he kept mumbling.

"I ripped it off because it is mine. I had it before I went to the house, and something is wrong with the house. How can it even be a seal when I have always had it?"

"It is yours? The poster is a seal, an ancient one, and an incompetent fool like you can never own it."

"Professor!" Maron cut in.

"Maron, your cousin here, blinded by his desires, ripped the seal off a door that was containing It. Now we have just a day or two until It slips out completely."

"How did I do that? I just took what belongs to me."

"The poster was never yours. It made you believe that and got you to rip it off, but not open the door. Why didn't you open the door?... I guess your caution outweighs your curiosity, but your desires reign supreme."

"The door opens in a month without the seal," he continued. "The seal is off, and as you were stuck in the moment, time flowed right by. The door is now weakened."

"Wait, Professor, what is all this about?"

"Your cousin opened something he shouldn't have."

"Professor...."

"Don't worry, there's a way. But he's the one who can save us. You met It, right? You have its stench all over you. The light cannot protect you after the new moon. It will come for you then. The only way to stop this is to go back to the wall. You have only a single cycle."

"How do I do that? I have no control over that."

"Get the poster on the wall of your new home; a rift was opened there. It will get you back.

Hurry home. It is here. Get home before It gets you."

"What about you, Professor?"

"I'll be fine." He leaned back in the chair.

The room began to darken.

"Go!"

"Maron!"

We bolted out to the car. It was already dark. The lights in the house exploded one after another. The hall where we had met Anansi was the last lit room. The shadow of the figure emerged from beneath the window. The light glowed very brightly, and it exploded. We drove off toward my new apartment. Maron just drove, without any questions, diligent in his role.

We ran out of fuel suddenly. We stopped at a station to refill. I headed inside the shopping mart to get some crackers. The mart was oddly dark. The attendant stood almost frozen.

I found the crackers and headed to the fridge for a drink. I lifted my head and felt a presence.

Behind me was the attendant. No, he had no eyes.

It.

I fought my way out and heard the horn from Maron's car. I ran to the exit, but the doors were locked. I banged on the glass, hoping it would break. It grabbed me from behind and threw me across the room. It grabbed me again, and I could feel it in my head: "Where is it?" as if it was communicating directly with my mind. I felt myself being dragged out. Suddenly, it was struck in the head; it was Maron.

We ran back to the car and saw the dim light glow and explode.

We headed straight to my new apartment.

I noticed something was odd about Maron. He was driving with his eyes closed. I immediately jumped out of the car and ran into the woods. I heard the car stop.

I ran as fast as I could, and he appeared before me. It threw me around and finally pinned me to a tree.

"Clarince... Clarince," he said. It was Maron's voice, but his face... it wasn't his face.

"Listen. You have to free me. Strike me when I lose my grip. Hit me hard enough to end it. I can't hold on much longer."

He was barely holding on.

I walked back to the car, feeling empty, anticipating the end.

I got to my room, broken. I stared at my wall, the markings... I wondered how they got there.

I pasted the poster on the wall, and the door opened. I walked into the blackness, and there was nothing.

I stood before the wall, staring blankly. It happened again; I forgot what I had to do. You know that feeling where you know you were about to do something, and you forget? Yes, that. It has been happening to me a lot recently. My mind seems to still be tied to the dream I had; its extreme realism is hard to let go of. Enough of the insanity; I've got a lot of packing to do. It was the poster on the wall; that is why I came here.