Building 11 “A Love of Storms”

Ever since I was a kid, I have loved the rain. I remember sitting on the porch with my dad, listening to it come in as the cars would drive by, creating that unique sound of rainwater being parted as they passed. The smell on the wind and the feel of the air on my skin is always something I relish. It's muggy and misty, but some days it is a little cold and just a little bit biting. Those are the best days. To this day I can't help but run outside when it rains, no mater how bad it is. The feel of rainwater running down my face and the sounds of the storm are relaxing to me. It's that shifting rush, that sort of churning of sound I enjoy. It's like the rain is the encroaching surf at the beach, but much louder when it really gets going.

When I got older my dad and I made a special drink together, for the days when the storms came in and the sky darkens. It is one shot of gin, thirty seconds thereabouts of the rainwater, some green olives and a little bit of mint. It is briny and bites a little, but is a perfect combination when relaxing on a porch during a thunderstorm.

The only nights where my night terrors seemed to mostly subside were the nights when it stormed. I would leave the window open in my room, listening the storm as I fell asleep. To this day I use videos of storms and the like when I am having trouble falling asleep.

I would still see that thing lurking in my room, but the smell of the rain would seem to wash out the smell of the creature. On those nights its presence didn't bother me too much. It was almost like having company, like a sleepover. Maybe that's a little silly looking back on it, but you dream of the same thing long enough and the feelings get complicated.

It's been years since my last fit of night terrors, and even longer since I was able to recall my dreams. My doctor and I tend to keep up with my medicine, though I doubt it matters at this point. According to what I read and from what my doctor said, most people tend to outgrow those sort of things.

Even if I stopped my medicine cold turkey I doubt I would have those visions again.

Better safe than sorry I think.

One time I got really sick. I was in high school and I got something that just knocked me in my ass. The medicine I got put on had a complication with the medicine I take at night. The doctors tried to find alternatives, but we just settled on the idea that we would simply have me stop my medicine for a few weeks while I was recovering. It had been years since I had last had issues.

I didn't think it would be a problem.

It was a few days before my medicine fully worked its way out of my system. It had been a nice few days weather wise, but then the skies opened up. It was like the storm appeared out of nowhere. None of the meteorologists had mentioned it on the news. But night came, and it was one of the worst storms we ever had. The rain came down so thick I couldn't even see out my window, and the thunder caused the windows to rattle.

At around twelve I woke up. Or at least I dreamed I woke up. The rain was still going, but it had calmed a little, and I could hear the cars passing by outside. I went to get up, but I stopped when I noticed something large, lingering in the dark.

The smell, that terrible smell of sewage and ink seemed to be everywhere. At first I thought it was just from the thing in the corner. That thing that had haunted me so many nights. But...the smell and the sounds weren't coming from it.

I could hear a heavy, ragged breathing, and its form was rising and falling in time, but the sounds were coming from behind me.

My sheets were wet, and at first I thought it was from sweat, but then I realized that the mattress was depressed, lifting a little on my side of the bed. I turned around, and I saw another one of those things looking at me. It was dark, but even though its oily, stringy hair I could see its eyes. It was muttering something under its breath which smelled of rotting fish, and as it spoke it slowly inched closer and closer to me.

Its skin was damp and cold. Even though it wasn't touching me, I could feel the chill in the air. The rain pattered on the roof, and the I could hear the sound of the one in the corner walking across the room. The floor creaked and groaned, and I began to cry as the thing was now close enough for our noses to be touching. As it breathed its head shook, a deep wheezing reverberating through its body.

I tried to scream, but no sound came out. I screamed and screamed, my throat getting hoarse and my lungs burning. But no sound came out. And I realized the thing wasn't talking. It was giggling.

I launched myself off my bed and rushed for my door. The handle was cold and it took a few pulls but I managed to open it. The hall light was on, but the shadows seemed deeper than they should be. The light barely seemed to illuminate at all. I ran for the stairs. I had to get out of the house, and I managed to reach the top of the stairs.

But there was another one coming up the steps.

I turned, and the other two were in the hallway now. I tried to get to the bathroom, but the one from my bed grabbed hold of me. Their flesh felt like it would slough off, but I couldn't pull away. Then I tried to look away, looking down the stairs, but I couldn't look down the stairs. The thing was at the top of the stairs, and it towered over me, its hair reaching all the way down to where I was on the floor.

The one closed in, and it wrapped its arms around me. I couldn't breathe. It wouldn't let me breathe. I felt like I would die.

But then I woke up. I was in my bed, but my side felt like it was on fire.

My sheets were soaked through, and I was covered in grime. I found out later I had broken a rib and dislocated my shoulder while tussling about in my sleep. To this day my movement isn't too good, and sometimes my rib comes loose for weeks at a time.

I got back on my medicine, and I haven't been off it since. It was the last time I saw the thing in my room, but it was the worst one of all.