The Shrouded Figure

“I have the vision to see that which is otherworldly. I cannot recall the date that this power became prevalent in my life, however from the moment of its inception I yearn for my release from it. I am unable to walk along the streets of my town without seeing the being which stalks me. It is shrouded in a black haze. The sole resemblance to a human is in its body composition, it models my own. It hasn't a face, rather you cannot look into where its face should be without a repulsion so great you feel sickly. It comes and goes throughout my days, although the image haunts me. I fear its growing prevalence in my life, and how inept I am in countering this demon. I believed changing my surroundings would free me from this burden, so I ran away to a small rural town.

Upon my arrival to this new environment; I felt the hand of my tormenter grow exponentially. The ghostly figure emitted waves of dark fumes, carpeting the ground in a thick haze, the sky as well was shielded by dark clouds. I departed from the moving van and, without the aid of my neighbors, promptly moved my belongings. Finally at rest with my new surroundings, I began unpacking my things into my newly acquired apartment. The haze of the ground slowly dissipated, it seems as though this creature of malevolence lingers still just outside the door. For one reason or another, this does not bug me, and I begin to relax into my home.

For quite some time, my home has been a fortress of solitude, I call it this as I have stayed the only being who has access to it. My ghoul strangely finds its own solace outside my door, although I do question this, I am happy all the same. I leave my home the following morning for a job I procured over the internet prior to my arrival. My mind rings with all the same feelings a person has on finding a new job. One always questions their own aptitude in meeting new coworkers or the performance they need to ensure a good first impression. My drive is lengthy, and I made it this way, I left much too early to arrive at my new workplace. My coworkers would imagine me to be an overly zealous worker! I need to cover all bases; they must enjoy me there!

My car putters along the road, traversing the streets which perimeter my workplace. I fervently check the location and time which I am instructed to arrive. The creature which I see so recurrently, and do not want to become monotonous by its frequent mentioning (for your sake), has stationed itself in front of the door which I am to enter. The body trembles at the thought of walking past such a figure, or even being close to it. The tentacles of ghostly smog extend from its body, once again blanketing the ground. I park across the street from it, the color has completely been lost from the sky, it is now a haze of blacks and greys. The entity stares at me, I drop my head so as not to look into its detestable face. Despite the distance between us I hear the ragged breaths of the darkness across from me. The deep breaths haunt my ears as I step into the street, I dare not look towards it, not now. My left foot steps past the extrusion of my car's parked space, I enter into the street. I blink repeatedly, believing this is all a mirage, my shoes are completely enveloped in the excreations of the creature. Again and again I step, approaching both the specter and my workspace. A blaring horn of a car is all I can hear before seeing the hood of a minivan approach me.

I jump back, my foot narrowly evading the oncoming wheel of the minivan. I fall back, hitting the ground, my arms become the only supports for my torso as I prop it up. I gauge the surroundings, I see no other cars passing between us, yet the shrouded figure is still across the street staring into me. I imagine the monstrosity laughing at my folly. Cackling at even my ineptness in crossing the street. The idea becomes so real that even now I feel as though the pain of the experience originates from its laughter. As I rested next to my car, I realized that I had kept my breath the entirety of the journey, from the car to beginning to cross the street. This is a strange revelation to me; thus I am transfixed with the idea of why I had held it.

I return to my feet; my field of vision has now shrunk drastically. The walls created by this creature have now made the entirety of the other side of the street completely enveloped in the dark smog. Yet, although my eyes cannot pick up any building, I can still see the silhouette of my tormenter, gazing from across the street. I hastily enter my car and leave the area. My breathing hasn’t slowed, I turn on the radio to remove my mind from the transpiring events. My breath hasn't slowed since I regained it, and now my only thought is to arrive home and distance myself from all others. I cover the windows when I enter my apartment, I then collapse onto the couch. It is still morning, so it is no use in going to sleep to escape this hell hole. After multiple failed attempts in drifting off, I open my laptop and start to research on how to proceed in my situation. I find a multitude of people who allegedly deal with demons often, yet an elderly woman catches my eye. In her website she has a variety of services she provides: Speaking to the dead, expelling demons, advice, analyzing haunting objects and dispelling curses. My cursor hovers over the advice section for some time as I imagine how the forthcoming conversation will go. I decide to consult her for my affliction, and upon scheduling a meeting I get a price quote for her time which I pay. I set the meeting for the next day in hopes that my demon will disappear before then.

My mind is between states of anxiety and excitement. I rehearse how the conversation would go constantly; I walk through the living room to my bedroom and again back all the way to my kitchen. My body stays restless the entire day, my legs tire and sit onto the couch to watch tv to no avail. I tap incessantly at the padded armrest, thinking only of tomorrow's conversation. The strands and reach of my usurper, slowly creeps under the doorframe. The quantity of smog isn't sufficient to encompass the whole apartment, yet it makes me know that it is outside waiting for me. The night has already enveloped the sky, so I decide tomorrow will come sooner if I can sleep through the night. I toss in my sheets, my sleep is restless, my dreams are filled with a ceaseless cacophony, all of which resembling conversations I had rehearsed. When I cannot fall asleep, my mind is bombarded with images of the shrouded figure, its face now enlarged and spanning across my bedroom ceiling. The face now has a wide smile, one that is not warm or welcoming, as though its pesterings have suddenly become humorous. The laughs ring in my head, and I turn away to face a wall which it implants its image onto. I cannot escape its reach, no matter where I turn.

Eventually the morning light shines into my room, and I get out of bed fatigued from the night prior. My appetite is completely gone as it has been since arriving in this town, so I sit stagnant in a chair staring at the clock as it slowly gets closer to the time of my call with the medium. My mind isn't occupied with the toils of my everyday life. For once I feel free, and it is because of exhaustion and inability for any cognitive function. I don’t sense another presence now, my apartment feels empty, perhaps the creature has gone to torment some other poor fellow.

After another hour of listlessness, my screen brightens with an incoming video call. I straighten myself to an upright position and I move my cursor to the green “accept call”, and at this moment, it all feels okay. Despite how tired I am, I don’t fear this conversation or the hypotheticals which usually cloud my mind. I finally accept the call, the screen buffers for a second before showing the image of the elderly woman. She has remarkably red hair which sticks up in many different positions. It is almost an erratic look you’d expect of a person who is perhaps in a feverish fit of delirium and doesn’t know herself completely. She opens with a spouting of different questions, leaving me unable to answer any before the next is asked. As I wait for her to settle, I eventually am able to explain my situation. She thinks over my explanation before entering another rambling of spirit and ghosts, all of which she has vanquished with ease. She questions my every sighting of my tormentor, and asks of the unsightly quality of it. When I explain it further, she asks me to recite when to see him, and after some time a silence falls between us. She rummages around her room and desk, then gives me a number, and invites me to schedule a meeting. This happened to be you, and here we are now.”

“I see, do you know who I am or what I do?” The woman asks, as she adjusts her glasses and finishes scribbling in her notebook.

“From the building name, I guess you would have to be a therapist, although I am not acquainted with who you are.” I reply, shifting on the couch, finding a comfortable angle.

Her chair seems far more comfortable than this couch, and it is above the patient so you feel as though you must look at her. “That’ll do, and putting these pieces together, have you figured out why you’ve been sent here instead of a priest for exorcism?”

“I can’t really figure it out." My words come out in a mumble, and I curse myself for not being as dignified in my speech as she is.

“Hm, do you remember when these visions of this being started?”

“I believe it was entering high school, or that was our most notable meeting.”

“Can you relay the events that day?”

“Not in as much detail as my preceding events, but from what I do remember, my mom had dropped me off at school. I was nervous, so I looked around frequently for friends, or anyone to talk to. There was a line of greeters into the main entrance of the school, and I remember, vividly, how I slipped in front of them. Although during the moment no one laughed, and one even came to help me up. I only imagined them smiling at my stumblings, and cackling at the memory when I left. My face was flushed with embarrassment, and that is when I first saw the shrouded figure. The whole day I couldn’t do anything right, nor was I confident in anything I did, as all I could see was that thing in the corner of my eye.”

“You said earlier that you were unsure of when it grew in precedence in your life, so I’ll assume after this day it was sparse?” She readjusts her sitting position.

“Yeah, following that day, the figure seemed to move in and out of my days. Sometimes I wouldn’t see it for a month.” Her workplace was remarkably brown, almost as though it was made inside a log cabin to provide clients with an additional level of comfort.

“Please excuse my blunt approach for this but, why are you scared of yourself?”

My eyes widened, taken aback by the statement “I’m sorry?”

“To me, the creature takes form during your most tremulous periods. As I see it, it does not affect you physically, nor does it invite itself into your home when you are mentally stable.” She bites her words, before continuing, “You are always mentally stable, however not always okay with your surroundings.”

“You think I created this malice filled being, simply because I cannot deal with my own mind?” I sit up from the couch and face her.

“I think this is precisely true, and perhaps why you stepped through that door and sat down here to begin…”

A tremor goes from my mind and body, I see the world shifting from side to side, the therapist's voice fades into undecipherable mumblings. Although the shifting world leads to my feet stumbling, I still leave the room in a hurry hitting various pieces of furniture as I go. My car becomes a sanctuary, once more I sit there gradually decompressing, my breathing again becomes gradual. I can’t help but linger on the words she said, her calm demeanor when she said it. How could she be so confident in something like that? My mind races along all the same paths it is accustomed to. On my way back to my apartment I saw the figure six times. Standing and staring at me as it has for years. It shields my path to anything people seek excitement out of. It corners me in my most vulnerable, how can it be so precise?

“Leave me at once you vile creature!” I cry out into the air.

I return home and once more collapse onto the couch. My time idling in the living room extends far beyond midday, dusk, and even midnight. My ponderings are only cut short by a desire to freshen myself up for bed. The water runs in the sink as I stare down the drain, I recollect the day, how often I saw the figure today. It was so frequently found in places I feared for one reason or the other. I raise my head to the mirror, and there it is. My actions paralleling its own, I look into the figure, I am absent of emotion. I find the figure docile and innocent. As I fixate on the figure, the darkness which it is shrouded in shows more and more of the visage which I normally fear. My hand goes to touch my own nose, and the figure does the same. I step away from the mirror, my breathing becoming ragged and labored.

No, I don’t want to realize it, no it isn’t my fault. Why didn’t I realize it before? How couldn’t I have figured it out on my own? I sit on the side of the tub, my head in my hands, occasionally looking up to see the figure peering back at me. Can I dispel the figure now or has it fully been part of me?

Finally, tonight I fall into a deep slumber, one I have longed for since my arrival in this town. My mind is at ease. The revelation has led my mind to solely focus on it, and despite the numerous questions I have, I am able to rest peacefully. My mind or my body have suffered during the night as they used to, yet I circle the idea of my stupidity in challenging the figure. Had I only known, then I would be much more suited for my life. I cannot fully comprehend the words of my therapist, yet in my heart I believe them.

When the morning comes, I leave my bed and go to my bathroom to stare into my image. Most times prior to today, I would avoid the mirror as the time I spent critiquing myself lengthened to hours. For only moments the figure appears in front of me, it stays just inside my field of vision as I lean over to wash my face. When I stand, it is gone and I am left with my own eyes staring back at me.

Today I have decided to go to my workplace. I cannot close off the hypotheticals of what could happen from my mind. My heart beats so loudly, my fists tighten as I leave the car once more in pursuit of making it across the street. My enemy is still across the street, staring at me. Its long stringing appendages that normally extend from its silhouette are gone, yet it remains staring at me. I cross the street successfully, the presence of the figure near me only fills my heart with more anxiety. My breathing suddenly becomes foreign, and so does my step pattern as I gradually approach it. The hypotheticals grow in magnitude, my brain spins in my skull. I feel weak and feverish once more. Still I step on, bringing my body in line with the figure. I look into its face, a full look, it stares back at me. I turn my head from it and once and bring my foot past the figure. I feel a moment's reprieve, as I now become set to enter the building finally.