My Chest


I awoke with a thunderous crash and could neither move my arms nor my legs. My limbs suggested they were tied to the bed, both aside and below but I felt no ropes, no cord or tape binding them. It was after a struggle and a flail that I paused and noticed the weight upon my chest. It sat still, heavy and immovable, unwilling to budge despite the greatest effort on my part. The sweat prickled on my forehead as my breath was forced shallow.

The night had come on fast that evening and only the reflections form the broken window pane lent any light to the room. Wait! It wasn’t broken when I went to sleep, I’d have known, I’d have felt the chill that now firmly riddled my skin. The evening had come with a tumultuous storm, that persisted even now, that could have been it. There was a tree on side of the building; when the winds got up it often thrashed the outside and occasionally scratched the glass. But no, it had been felled only a few days before. So what caused the break and what now sat upon my chest?

The shadows in my bedroom played with the light as they often had as a child and shapes began to form. I craned my neck and peered around to watch an Eagle nest on the doors of my wardrobe, then a Rat scurry across my carpet, followed by a witch’s nose lain upon my bedside table and finally, as my eyes roamed, I saw the shadow of something upon my chest.

For such a small thing, it weighed an inordinate amount and beyond my understanding, failed to crush my ribcage. It simply sat, steady as a rock upon my chest and waited for my query. As my eyes grew more and more accustomed to the night light, my focus shifted and with that, a revelation was had. The lump was round, round like a football worn through years of use and possessing of arms, arms so stunted as to fail to scratch its nether region and legs, legs so spindly as to call a crane fat, that in Buddha recline hosted the lump and gave it balance despite my constant thrashing.

My mouth gaped as would yours and as my eyes gravitated up they beheld a glimmer of green in the left and red in the right eye of the lump. Those colours illuminated a smile of such ghastly proportions as to fill my mind with fear and my pants with pee. It began to chuckle. Its laugh, so maniacal that I could only wait and watch, expectant of the gnawing and nibbling of my limbs that must surely come.

I blinked; it was all I felt capable of doing. The lump; a perfect sphere, twisted its head in Owl fashion and tilted, taking in everything it saw. A terrified adult, thirty-five years old and damp in the pants stared right back. Its smile seemed to vibrate and shimmer in the moon light, lending something almost magical to the night, until my eyes lingered on the teeth. Pincer sharp and dagger shaped, they seemed to chatter.

My heart raced, my arm hair shivered and my scream muffled from the kiss.


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