23:14

The sound wakes me up. I’m not sure what it is. I never am.

My eyes barely open, but I already know what the red glow is trying to tell me. 23:14. It always is.

I close my eyes. Drift back to sleep.

I wake up. Get dressed. Go to work.

I come home. Eat dinner. Watch TV. Go to bed.

The noise tears me from my slumber again. The red glow demands my attention. I turn away. Curiosity twists my head back, pries my eyes open. 23:14.

I close my eyes, not feeling the relief I expected.

I fall back to sleep.

I dream of shadows at my window, watching, waiting. They move on. I hear them scratching at another window. Each scrape shakes my bed.

Then silence.

I hear faint mumbling, like a conversation from another time and place.

The murmur is only noise, never meaning.

Then a scream. A knife through the calm. Chaos bleeding out, covering everything.

I begin to stir to my alarm, rub my eyes.

The shrieking still rings in my ears.

I get dressed, leave for work.

Do not think that when the sun is up, I forget about the red glow. It occupies my mind. Nothing else is allowed to.

It began two months ago. A noise. The same noise. Snatching me back to consciousness each night. 23:14.

Most nights, I drift back into peaceful rest.

Some, I fall into darkness.

I spiral into a world much like ours. Things happen there that only I seem to notice. I worry they notice me too.

I hate those nights.

Dream me makes decisions I cannot stop. I worry he will get us hurt.

I got a new neighbour around the time it started. I have never seen him.

My theory is he works night shifts. A very consistently inconsiderate man.

For the moments I am awake, my mind wandering into darkness.

Then the dreams begin.

Why do they feel so real?

I come home from work.

A moment to relax.

Now time for bed.

My brain is a room of nothing. It stares out into blackness.

Then nothing.

My rest is torn away from me.

The red glow screams 23:14.

I know the routine. Close my eyes and wait for the night to take me away again.

Nothing happens.

My world is blank, but the sound continues.

I squeeze my eyes shut, hoping sleep will be encouraged by my eagerness.

Nothing.

Curiosity pulls me from my bed.

I peek through the curtains into the darkness.

The world is peaceful.

The world is dormant.

The noise continues. Louder now.

A shadow moves in the distance.

The same one from my dream.

It flies from window to window, searching.

I hide behind the curtain, hoping to glimpse its face.

But, if I see it, will it see me?

I jump back into bed.

Protected by the duvet.

I lie still.

I shiver.

I shake.

I fall asleep.

My dream self arouse. Gets out of bed. Sunlight pushes through the window. I close my eyes and feel it on my face.

When I open them, I am outside my flat.

Not my flat. His.

My hand reaches out. Turns the handle. The door swings open.

Our homes are identical to the eye, but the air here is cold. White clouds of breath hang before me.

I walk inside.

The lights are off, but I know where to go.

I drift toward a door.

I am screaming for me to stop from under my duvet.

I continue.

The handle is cold when I turn it. I pull my hand away too late. The cold has stuck me to it. Small flakes of palm remain behind. There is no pain.

The door opens. The same I fall back to sleep.that disturbs me each night pours from within. Wraps itself around me and pulls me inside.

The room is lightless. The door slams shut, taking the air with it. I refuse to walk. My dream self does not listen. I move forward anyway.

My breath no longer turns white. There is no breath at all.

Nothing in this room is allowed to be alive.

A bed sits alone. The shadow lies upon it.

I shift closer.

My legs do not move. Yet I continue.

The shape begins to turn.

I try to run. I am not allowed.

Its face does not turn. It grows.

Its eyes, a familiar red glow.

They see me.

They widen.

I wake. Still cold.

My hand hurts now.

I scrape myself out of bed.

I dress, exit my room.

Leave my flat.

Passing his door, it whines inside

I move away. It follows me out of the building.

I come home.

It welcomes me as I enter. Rattling off the walls all day. It has multiplied, become a choir.

I drag myself to my flat.

The door shuts. The familiar comfort is gone. The place feels empty. So do I.

I don’t eat.

I don’t watch TV.

I only exist.

I am in bed.

I drift off.

It returns.

I sit straight up.

The red glow no longer bothers me.

I move to the window and search. Nothing there. The sound is. Still, he is not.

My hand grips the handle. Turns. Pushes.

Night air rushes in. The familiar rumble follows. Louder than ever. I lean out. There is nothing.

The sound becomes a command.

As I step back, the shadow glides into my room. The red glow traps me. Unable to move.

It remains still. I remain still. Somehow we get closer.

The white of its face smears with red. It opens. A mouth full of broken glass.

“Thank you,” it whispers.

“Thank you,” I echo back.

Pain.

I am suddenly conscious.

My body is broken.

I do not get up.

I do not dress.

I do not go to work.

I try to exist. It is difficult today.

Night comes.

Exhausted from trying.

I rest.

The glow gently wakes me.

I rise.

I walk to the window.

The shadow is there.

The window opens.

I join him.