Official reports have recently confirmed what you have long suspected: that the dim and as-yet-formless shape hovering at the foot of your bed or perhaps just outside your closed (but locked? Did you lock it? Is it locked, or is it unlocked?) window is very real and the only thing keeping it from moving any closer is your constant, wakeful vigilance. Were you to relax this watchfulness even for a moment, the shape would almost certainly land heavily on your bedspread — its blurred edges sharpening and resolving into something resembling a face — and work its towards your heart.
As long as you maintain this unceasing situational awareness and heightened level of anxiety, you will almost certainly be safe, and the shape will almost certainly not move. Unless you look away even for a moment. Or if you look directly at it. Do not look directly at the shape, which is now radiating thick, palpable waves of ill will directly into your lungs and eyes. Do not allow the covers to budge even one millimeter from their current position. Were you to lower them below your chin, you would find yourself entirely defenseless. Somehow — scientists aren’t sure how, exactly — these strategically placed covers are your best and greatest protection against the shape, which may not be conscious but is certainly capable of basic things like loathing and intent and desire and planning and already knows your name.
Luckily for you, however, your unflagging terror and inability to fall asleep are the shape’s two greatest enemies. The shape will never go away, of course; it will return every night as soon as everyone else in the house has fallen asleep and you are without distraction or protection, and it will slip horror into your throat, but at the very least you can make sure it never gets closer to you than it is right now. It is vital that you never let it come one inch closer. It is vital that you never let it touch you. Why you cannot say; you do not need to know why. Stay awake and stay alert, and the shape will keep its distance.
Tags: sleep, the ravelled sleave of care, tired nature’s sweet restorer, WHAT IS THAT
Oh, fuck you, Mallory
not really i still love you
but jesus christ
why do you do this
I DO IT BECAUSE IT HAPPENS TO ME
This story reminded me of your trees story!
That’s a very nice thing to say!
(interesting. As a reader, I’m always ‘whyyyyyy’ but as a writer I know why: because it fills me with glee to see your suffering)
Heehee as a reader, I feel that way too. ‘whyyyyy’ followed by ‘because it’s fun!’
Right? The best compliment I ever got on a piece of short horror fiction was “I think I read that without breathing.” Ahhhhh, please suffer while you read it, yesssssssss.
‘You made me cry!’
YESS, FILL THE AUTHOR WITH YOUR TEARS IT SUSTAINS HER
I KNEW IT.
NEVER STOP WORRYING. WORRYING IS A PREVENTATIVE MEASURE.
You are only safe once the worry takes physical form
If you worry is strong enough, it will take on a corporeal form and charge at the Thing Outside the Window- a phenomenon known as the Worry Patronous.
For me, there are two types of Mallory pieces – either I cackle like a maniac and spend the rest of the day bursting out into giggles for no apparent reason, or I spend the rest of the day checking over my shoulder waiting for Something to come and get me.
I love all of them.
This is the most correct assessment of The Toast. I shall quote it to people when I am trying to explain how wonderful The Toast is.
I am, again, in awe of (1) Mallory’s pitch-perfect distillation of my deepest-held fears and doubts and (2) her extraordinary deftness in turning an errant Tweet into a Twitter forum that becomes a Toast post within about 12 hours.
For real, I woke up from a nightmare last night that a big, invisible thing was hovering over my bed, and the only way I could see it was when it moved, because it changed from invisible to out-of-focus. (My eyes are so bad that everything is out of focus, so I’m not sure how I knew.)
Luckily, I had my dog to protect me, he kept tabs on it for me for the rest of the night.
I thought you said no more Harry Potter posts? When did Mad-Eye Moody start writing for the Toast?
CONSTANT VIGILANCE *spittle*
As long as we’re not writing about The Thing That Will Grab Your Ankles If You Don’t Run And Fling Yourself Onto The Bed, then we’re cool.
Oh man, I HATE that thing.
It can only come out in the dark. Before you turn out the lights, check that the closet door and all drawers are closed; it/they lurk in there too. Keep your hands and feet under the covers. Oh, no! You forgot to close the curtains! It can look in from outside!
and its sequel, The Thing That Will Bite Your Foot Off If Even One Toe Is Uncovered And Dangling Off The Bed
(a totally legitimate fear in my mind)
The Thing in my room is a tiger. Thank god it is thwarted by sheets, because otherwise it is truly terrifying.
YES. Or the Thing That Will Suck Your Soul Through The Mirror if you have to get up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom but you don’t want to turn the light on.
Don’t mind me, I’ll just be having this recurring dream where I’m trying to drive a car from the backseat and the brakes don’t work.
Oh man, that dream is the worst! I am always in the front driver’s seat, but no matter how hard I stomp on the brake pedal – nothing.
I’m not alone! I work that dream in regularly between dreams where my teeth are falling out/I grew a beard overnight and dreams where it is late in the semester and I never went to one of my classes.
Oh hey! That is my stress dream too!
I ALWAYS HAVE THIS DREAM. *shivers*
I am so relieved to know that so many other people have the driving-from-the-backseat dream! Our brains are terrifying but at least they’re terrifying in a predictable pattern. For the record, my other regular anxiety dreams are (a) realizing I have forgotten to feed a pet or pets- usually small rodents and (b) going back to school or college for a semester and then suddenly realizing that I can’t go to class full-time and work full-time. Brain, why you gotta be like this.
One night, on our honeymoon, I was convinced that our host was strangling my husband in the bathroom while I was lying in bed. I heard noises, I just assumed they were deadly murder noises. I was convinced that me lying in bed very quietly and staring at the door for 20 minutes was my only way to survive. After a while a thought entered my mind…maybe he’s just pooping? But still, just in case, I continued to watch the door. And then he came back in and I said “I thought you were dead!” And then he laughed and laughed and laughed at me.
My rabbi’s wife told me the other day about spending their honeymoon in some haunted Scottish castle and waking up in the night to hear him arguing with someone and he didn’t know who when she asked him but the hosts said it was the ghost so the next night she made them go to a conventional hotel.
My then-not-yet-spouse almost threw himself out of the window of our converted-stately-house hotel in Ireland when he dreamt the Nazi’s were chasing him.
I think learning to share sleep with another human, especially in a strange place, leads to some fucked up night-thoughts.
I stayed in a haunted Scottish castle and not one ghost talked to me. 🙁
You have to bring a rabbi with you.
duh
Our cats like to knock things off at night.
Every time I assume that we have SOMETHING in our house and make Jos go check.
If it takes longer than 10 minutes I start assuming he’s been killed,so I hold my breath and stay very still.
I love that about cats, though: any weird night noise can be blamed on them.
“What’s that noise?”
“It was the cats.”
“But the cats are all on the bed with us.”
“It. Was. The. Cats.”
It’s going to be a while before I can write a Haunting Tale Of TERROR without thinking of any character in obscure peril “… maybe he’s just pooping?”
Please do not mind the glistening, milky white giant millipede-like creature that seems to be watching you from the bathtub while you are pooping. You try to discern which end has a face (either? neither? BOTH??) as multitude of colorless articulated legs furl and unfurl. Is the giant millipede-like creature waving hello to you? Maybe he’s just pooping? You weigh the consequences of each possibility thoughtfully and try not to scream.
When I’m half-asleep all noises are terror noises to me. I used to wake up in a panic every garbage day because for some reason the truck sounded like a distressed dog crying in pain outside my window? After I lying in bed frightened for a few minutes I would wake up enough to realize that it was the garbage truck, and suddenly it would all make sense and not sound like a dog at all anymore.
I still laugh at you about this. The look of abject terror in your eyes when I opened that door, followed by “I thought you were dead!” was one of the funniest things.. basically ever.
I suffer from sleep paralysis, though thankfully not very often these days.
Funny thing I discovered while contributing to a study on sleep paralysis: what’s the one factor most likely to trigger my now-rare episodes of sleep paralysis? Thinking about sleep paralysis – remembering it, describing it, answer questions about it, or I DON’T KNOW READING A HELLISH TALE OF SOMETHING SWOOPING IN MY WINDOW AND LANDING UPON MY CHEST IN THE NIGHT AS I LIE HELPLESS.
Clearly, I am a fool for reading this.
So there’s that.
Tell me more about your sleep paralysis. Does it matter how many blankets you have? How about a soothing cup of tea, does that help? Let’s really just dig deep here and go into elaborate detail.
I FEEL LIKE YOU MIGHT BE A MONSTER IN COMMENTER FORM YOU MONSTER.
I do love to talk and read about sleep paralysis, though. What a fascinating phenomenon! But for me, it’s fascinating the way the edge of the balcony is fascinating for some people: I know it’s not good to look at it too hard for too long, but I just… really… want to.
AM I THE MONSTER AT THE EDGE OF YOUR VISION? Let’s explore that topic, too.
Nooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
oooooooooooo
p.s., that dude is just a dude. He oughtn’t be in my room, but 90% of the time, he’s just a humanish dude who shouldn’t be there. He just stands there and watches. Sometimes I watch in horror as something (sometimes him, sometimes something else) sits on my chest, but mostly my subjective experience is that of being held down by THE TERROR while he watches from the foot of the bed.
The monster lives under the bed, everybody knows that.
I’m beginning to think you really ought to revisit that soothing cup of tea thing.
What, and offer one to the monster? Or to the dude-who-oughtn’t-be?
Yes, offer a cup of tea to both of them. They might start chatting and forget about bothering you. Especially if you have some small tea cakes and cookies to go along with it.
Seriously, though, sometimes thinking of something like that can break the mental loop and either wake me up or push the dream experience on to something less disturbing.
Unless, of course, there is actually is something sitting on the dresser. That requires different tactics.
The Monster at the Edge of My Vision always looks like a large rat that may or may not have mange. So, monster or new friend? Monster or new friend?
I have sleep paralysis, too. Luckily I only get it if I sleep during the day.
But this piece is spot on for what it feels like. *shivers*
I once had these intense episodes of sleep paralysis combined with these extremely lucid dreams that made me think I was waking up and getting out of bed. I’d start going about my daily routine and only realize I was dreaming when I noticed something odd, like that all the lights in the bathroom were red or that my living room was decorated with disembodied doll heads. Then I’d snap back to myself in sleep-paralysis state. It suuuucked.
I’m probably not helping you, am I.
I had sleep paralysis yesterday! (That is why I wrote this post)
I am so looking forward to having a sleepover with you. We can paint our toenails, braid each other’s hair, eat popcorn, and lie rigidly in a rictus of unending, undying terror as the shapes survey us in the night with cool certainty. Bring your sleeping bag!
Thank god for the cat sleeping on my feet every night. He is the only thing standing between me and doom.
My cat sleeps on my head, which is significantly less helpful. Any Hideous Doom coming in through the window (closest to the foot of the bed, of course) will have lots of time to eat me before getting close enough to wake her up.
The only solution is to reverse your bed and start sleeping with your head closer to the window.
I mean, obviously that’s problematic on those nights when the cat fails to sleep on you, as it makes you that much closer to IT, but it’s still easier than convincing the cat to sleep elsewhere.
Or in my case the rabbit under the bed. If something was actually wrong he would flee in terror an probably I would hear that. Probably.
My cat likes to hump my foot while I sleep, which has the upside of breaking the ominous atmosphere.
Scientists have also confirmed that houses do not sometimes make *that* sound, and that the source of that sound is, in fact, The Shape moving around downstairs. Eagerly. In anticipation.
Ahahaha, there is some odd acoustical trick of our building (an old house converted into apartments) so that something dropped upstairs can sometimes sound exactly like someone moving stealthily on this floor of the building…
… which is to say, when our neighbor drops a shoe upstairs, it sounds exactly like someone in my living room’s large closet has stumbled, then caught himself and is waiting silently to see if we noticed the noise. It’s eerie enough that guests have jumped straight off the sofa.
That is…I have no words. I’m pretty sure I would live with my heart in my mouth. And take all the closet doors off FOR SURE.
Is this anything like the Faceless Old Woman Who Lives In Your Home? She keeps leaving weird notes in my books.
Are you going to vote for her in the next election, though? I don’t trust that Hiram McDaniels character.
Don’t blink.
Blink and you’re dead. Good luck.
I’m so glad everything is under control.
Everyone knows that your blankets are a protective barrier against all evil night beasties and if you so much as have one foot dangling off the bed, the creatures hiding under it will snatch it off.
Also, there are certain words that, whispered fervently and frequently enough, will dispel any unwanted nighttime visitors. I have held this belief since childhood and since I haven’t been consumed yet, I can only assume that they work Quite Well.
Also: It helps to pull the blankets over your head because survival is more important than breathing well.
Unless the blankets are what’s keeping that nest of snakes captive at the bottom of your bed in which case you’re screwed. NEVER ENDING NIGHTMARES MY ENTIRE LIFE.
I have only had one or two snake nightmares, but they are the WORST. I’m jumpy for the entire day afterwards.
This would not happen if you had a dog that you let sleep on the bed.
No, no, the dogs have to patrol the floors, otherwise the things UNDER the beds could emerge.
Dogs beside bed, cat on bed, blankets to chin, I am SAFE.
My cat sits right next to me, and if I have a bad dream, I blame him for not shielding me from it sufficiently. I also *still* jump from my door to my bed, just in case *something* is beneath it… and slept with my mattress/box springs on the floor for years to avoid the possibility.
Mine is too busy sleeping and snoring like an old man.
That’s what the dogs want you to think, but in actual nightmare scary times they have been no help at all.
LALALA (fingers in ears) I CAN’T HEAR YOU!
NOPE. This is NOT how I’m starting my morning.
I’m going to leave this, and read it in the comfort of my partner’s arms.
THIS IS MY LIFE.
And also, sweet use of the Fuseli image. That painting is creepy as fuck.
AAHHHHH THE SHAPE IS USUALLY IN MY CLOSET BUT LAST NIGHT IT WAS IN MY WINDOW GET AWAY FROM ME YOU EVIL WIZARD!!!
God, this is my life, too. Remind me why I watch Supernatural? Besides for the pretty?
No but it is though.
I had a friend who once, late at night, recounted the plot of the movie ‘Darkness Falls’ where the tooth fairy is a ghost who collects teeth. Basically, if you see her, she kills you violently. She also cannot appear in lit areas. So basically: either be in full light or keep those eyes SHUT and you are safe. If I think about this before going to bed I become simultaneously terrified of opening my eyes, and extremely tempted to do so to prove to myself that I am being STUPID.
Sometimes I open them and sometimes I don’t. Nevermind the fact that I have no baby teeth left to lose so she shouldn’t even be visiting me anyways.
I saw this movie when I was 16 or something, and I pretended to laugh at it (come on, an evil toothfairy?), but I may or may not have spent the next few weeks after seeing the movie — whenever I remembered — sticking to areas of bright light at night, you know, just in case. I may or may not still do this every now and then.
this is all very well and good, but how do we deal with the Thing in the mirror if you accidentally look into it when peeing during the night?
I didn’t see your post before I just posted about the exact same Thing above. I think I was exposed to one too many adolescent games of Bloody Mary.
I had an abnormal fear of bloody Mary as a kid and on through adulthood. While living in my old house, I would get crippling paranoia whenever I even saw a mirror out of the corner of my eye in even slight darkness. I would have to turn on ALL the lights and not stare at the mirror or think about the ceiling trap door in the bathroom where I knew the creepy mirror lady lived when the house was not dark. (If you think about her she will come.) Thankfully, I have cats, and cats are really good at breaking up over-active imaginations. Someday perhaps I will write an elaborate account of how I broke this fear, but that would involve actually writing as opposed to procrastination.
YES. Or the Thing That Will Suck Your Soul Through The Mirror if you have to get up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom but you don't want to turn the light on.
I didn't see your post before I just posted about the exact same Thing above. I think I was exposed to one too many adolescent games of Bloody Mary.
The Thing in my room is a tiger. Thank god it is thwarted by sheets, because otherwise it is truly terrifying.
The thing that lives in the wall your bed is placed beside. If you turn your back on it, it will surely come through the wall and get you. But if you face the wall you won't be able to see the thing that comes through the bedroom door.
OH HAI THERE MOST INTENSE AND IRRATIONAL PHOBIA.
How often am I going to run across snakes? Not very often. How often are there mysterious shapes in the dankest corner of night? Forever.
bloody hell.