Wakeful Dead

2

A light hits him like a train gone derailed. A reverberating shock jolts his head up from his desk. He sees papers scattered everywhere and an open- book beneath him. A cork-board hangs above on a wall displaying various advertisements only a weary college student fully understands. LU pendants, class schedules and syllabi, FAFSA statements, and the all too taunting clock reach out with their smirks knowing that he is their slave for life.

Radiating pain enters his brain as realization hits him. Battling light contorts his adjusting vision with intensity and pinpricks of pain. The vibrations continue. He turns over his phone to see a vague number calling him with a dreadful time stamp. He sits in his room now fully aware that 2am approaches and a test looms around 8.

"Hello?" He answers in an exhausted moan.

"Dude sleep much? You almost had me worried there. You were fidgeting like a mad man. Almost like you were trying to run sitting down. Tried to shake you awake but you kept pushing me away."

He looks up over his right shoulder after hearing an echo to see his roommate, Max, hovering over him with eyes glazed over from a night of Mountain Dew and video games. The retreating creases of his brow on his unnaturally large forehead indicate that the stress was gone from his face though a light layer of condensation still clutches to his rather narrow neck. They both hang up their phones and relax.

" Yeah, I'm okay. Thanks. It just looks like I'll be up for the rest of the day." He mumbles with a post sleep, early morning cackle and shoots Max a light affirming smile. He looks down at his rather thick cognitive psychology textbook. A pool of drool the size of a quarter sits drying on the page. The page is opened to Chapter 6: Memory and Its Whereabouts. The words almost seem to arrange themselves for him in a manner indicating imminent failure.

"Rowen, where are you off to? It's two in the morning!" He retorts as Rowen rises from his scholastic tomb and heads toward the doorway.

"Well, all the studying in the world probably won't help me at this point and," Rowen hesitates for a moment with his eyes glued to the floor in fear as he recapped what had happened only moments ago. "sleep is definitely not an option. So, I think I'm going to go for a walk."

"Alright well at least change before you head out." Max turned his head down towards his roommates' faded blue jeans.

He glanced down and immediately got hit by a pungent yet sterile odor. He had pissed himself.

***

Rowen Reed usually had nightmares. From anxiety driven dreams about failing a test or getting rejected by a girl to terror induced nightmares donning the all too familiar demon or murderer, he had them all and had them frequently. But never had they resulted in him reacting in such a childish fashion. In fact, he had gotten so used to them from watching horror movies and studying for his coursework that his nightmares of psychopaths, serial killers, and monsters just became dreams to him. He had truly been desensitized. This dream had been different though. Something about the aura of the dream made it seem real in a hallucinogenic sort of way. The screech still lulls creepily in his ears.

The brisk Autumn night creeps into his faded green Liberation University sweatshirt sending goosebumps up his spine. Empasic Hall and his traditional style dorm fades behind him in its Old Victorian wonder. The formulated lampposts hang dim upon a near dead campus. The silent cool air mesmerizes him and scares the clouds in his mind away leaving a sensation of clarity and confusion. Was it real? Had he actually been there?

He walks down a clandestine street through the middle of campus. Open windows whisper thoughts of teenage rebellion and sexual satisfaction to long dull days and flamboyant liquor induced nights only to be eradicated with the eventual spell of emerging adulthood and responsibilities. Rowen never felt this approaching adulthood necessity since he never much understood people and did not socialize very well.

His roommate Max was the exception of course. Living with someone for two years, probably the eventual four, has to sprout some sort of friendship or bond. It had worked out pretty well though. They both were socially awkward and had the common interests of video games, though Max was more devoted to it with him being a game developer hopeful and all. Making fun of the rest of the drunkards on campus also became a habit of theirs'. Nothing too damaging though, often it was just making fun of the way they walk or the way they hung over each other as if they always knew one another instead of the couple hours at a party. Rowen and Max just never grasped the enjoyment of dulling one's senses to the point of amnesia, embarrassment, and regretful journeys home of an overall unwanted personal encounter. He often viewed the escape of reality quite depressing. The world is filled with beautiful things and experiences that require open eyes and a clear mind. But if the world was so beautiful why would he have just experienced such a thing?

It could stem from the multiple foster homes I grew up in. Alcohol and drugs almost never comes across your mind when you're constantly moving from one place to another. I guess that also explains the loneliness too. Nobody wanting you and there's never enough time to form a bond when you're on to the next home within a couple months. I don't blame them though. Taking care of a kid can be difficult especially when money seems to be tight all the time. I guess it isn't all bad though. The school did spiritually adopt me and give me a full ride as long as I worked for them later down the road. Pretty cool. Full ride and all I had to be was an unwanted orphan.

Though I can't really say I'm totally useless. I pick up on how people are feeling easily. It's some sort of hunch I guess. It is just too bad that the words never come out the way I want them to. I stutter, I babble and I ultimately choke on my own spit. REAL smooth.

A run- down pavilion comes into sight in the middle of the residential quad. The spot is mostly used as a meeting place for the smokers on campus to socialize or calm the nerves after a stressful exam. The wooden sanctuary also provided the perfect haven to clear the mind and pass the time for a while. Rowen sits down on one of the benches in the pavilion and looks up at the sky. A couple clouds here and there but otherwise a clear starry night.

The thoughts of the forest and the creature float in his mind like a fish reaching the surface to collect its flake of a meal never fully realizing what lies above it. Yeah it was a dream he'd rather not have again but there was something more to it. The cold touch scarred him in a way. It took something from him or instilled something. He couldn't tell. Was it drool on his textbook or really a tear?

The thoughts linger for a bit longer while a couple clouds move in to cover the full moon. As the campus gets dimmer he hears a whimper. His wondering mind shifts with his head to a figure standing at the entrance to the pavilion. A female in a blue hooded sweatshirt wipes her face with her sleeve. He hears a couple sobs mixed with whimpers. He clears his throat.

"Hi… Ummm are you okay?" He hesitates.

"Well to be honest no," She sniffles. "Can you help me? Please?" She whimpers again and her voice cracks. " I just don't see the point anymore. Too often I want to end it all. All I feel is emptiness and sorrow."

He goes to say something and stops. A wave of air hits him and with it drains a little bit of energy out of him. He manages to gather himself and replies, "That's ummmm awful. I'm sorry to hear that. I.. uhhh… don't know you but if….if there's any way I can help…"

She interrupts with a nod, a whimper, and approaches him with a hug. Her long dark brown hair brushes past his ear sending a sort of chill up his spine. He begins to tremble in anxiety. Who is this girl? Why am I hugging this stranger? How did I not hear her walking towards the pavilion? Am I really awake? All these questions flood his mind in a hurricane like fashion. He begins to sweat, not knowing what to do. After all he's never really had an intimate interaction before.

As the embrace starts to feel warm, Rowen can't help but notice that as the hug continues he feels colder and colder. An aura of cold engulfs his body. Goosebumps fly up his arms in flocks. After about a minute the mysterious girl lets go and pulls away with a cordial disposition and any energy he had left.

She turns around with a cheery glow and exclaims, "Wow, umm…thank you so much! I feel so much better. It just all went away! I guess hugs can be a good medicine."

I see her walk away and vanish. No name. No explanation. Just left. A coldness creeps into me. It seeps deeper and deeper into me. I never knew what it felt like for my heart and mind to feel frozen but they do. I try to say something to her. To get help. But the sudden urge to bottle everything up comes across me. All I feel is cold and emptiness. I feel no point to this. No point to life and its' convoluted purpose. A tear rolls down my cheek yet I don't feel its' momentary caress of bottled up sorrow. This disease so potent and strong that I no longer feel the need to stand and leave. I just want to lay here with this thousand-pound boulder on my chest. I really hope death takes me. Lord knows I don't have the balls to do it myself.

Her hug swift and cold as a blade caressing his skin came and went but leaves a wound much deeper. No blood or cut but a hole of sucking emotion. The anger driven sorrow drains him of any energy or any thought he just had. As the moon kisses the clouds once more Rowen's sight fades and with it emotions of uselessness, hopelessness and the thought of a razorblade.