Tyler Smith Shed
I only wanted a glass of water to take to bed with me . That ’ s how all of this started . I wasn ’ t reaching for a bottle of vodka to lull me to sleep or a quick joint to smoke on the porch whilst contemplating life . Nope . None of that anymore . Just a cold glass of water . But now , I can ’ t move ; it ’ s staring at me from the shed .
We ’ re supposed to go into fight or flight response when we ’ re scared , but I can ’ t do either . I ’ m frozen from the horror that ’ s sending an ice-cold chill avalanching down my spine to my feet . For a moment I think it ’ s Medusa staring at me , cementing me in time so that I would be an eternal personification of how I ’ ve been feeling ; stuck .
Its vacant eyes are glaring at me , and the glow of its sneering grin is the only source of light in the winter abyss . It ’ s the type of nightmare you expect to see as a kid ; when you turn back around for one last look at the bottom of the stairs and truly believe you ’ re going to see the bogeyman standing there . Then the adrenaline kicks in and sends you racing to your bed . I was a kid again standing at that window .
I feel its eyes drilling into my temples , but instead of adrenaline shooting through my veins , sending me running out of the house , a numbness washes over me . I can ’ t move and I can ’ t feel .
I ’ m paralysed , but with growing curiosity . The fear that I had before now feels as light as a cloud in the back of my head . However , the cloud spreads , and now my mind feels like one grey sky that needs to rain . All I can do is watch and wait for a storm that feels inevitable .
Just when I thought its grin couldn ’ t get any wider , it begins to move further towards the corners of its eyes , like a scar that keeps tearing open and refuses to heal . The wider its grin spreads across its face like a disease , the sicker I feel . I ’ m infected , but maybe that ’ s why I ’ m starting to warm to its smile . Like cartoons on a rainy day as a kid , comforting and amusing . I can imagine someone standing above it , with a needle and thread attached to each corner of its mouth pulling that smile wider and wider . My focus shifts to its eyes . Those entrancing eyes : widening , maddening the longer I stare , as though someone was now above it with a needle and thread attached to its eyebrows . It moves the palm of its hand upwards so that its face is covered for a second . Still smiling . Then it moves its hand downwards . When its face reappears , it ’ s plastered with a heart-wrenching frown , but it ’ s only a second before it ’ s smiling again and I feel a glee reminiscent of childhood joy , so I begin to laugh .
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