how to know that you are being haunted

how to know that you are being haunted

faith maddox

1. Sleep does not elude you, it has simply taken a new name. You might sleep through the day, each one becoming more and more of an indistinguishable haze, until you can no longer tell if you’re dreaming on Monday or walking in the middle of a busy intersection on Saturday. You’re not sure if there’s much of a difference anymore anyway.

2. Any door left open is a tangible threat. Even a hairline fracture in the doorframe is a reason to move. You can no longer remember which ones you’ve opened and which ones slammed shut with the breeze.

3. One morning you wake up and notice that the hands you now wear are not your own. The fingers are slightly crooked towards the top, and deep lines have formed in the crook between thumb and index. Burn marks pock the knuckles, though you’re pretty sure you’ve never held them near an open flame. And now that you’re thinking about it, you’ve also recently noticed that

4. your shadow lags when you walk, as if it’s trying to imitate your long gait and faltering steps, mocking you as it plays catch-up with your stride.

5. Have you always been this tired? You don’t know the last time you slept, but you’re not entirely convinced you’re not sleeping right now. Last night you thought you heard someone in the corner, a voiceless sound that still rings so loud in your ear you wonder if it’s stuck itself to the back of your neck while you were dreaming. Anyway

6. how do you know if this is your dream at all? Hold up a flashlight to your left eye and see if a small man is crouching behind your cornea; he might be hidden in the ridges of smooth pink, which has begun to ripple and quake as new cracks form in its foundation. and when you think about it

7. the man looks familiar, the faceless kind of person that bears resemblance to everyone and no one all at once. he is your high school art teacher who would grab a fistful of your hair when he watched you draw, he is the boy who told you you’d look better as a tree, he is the lover who bought you a book every time he found a new bruise, the father that preferred whiskey to a winter at home and 8. you realize the little man in your eye has been casting shadows on the wall, puppets distorting their bodies in moonlight, craning necks to make sure you’re still watching, and the puppets slide down the wall as the man makes his way to a new part of your body and 9. where are they now? you look under the bed just in case 10. and there’s nothing there but dust and half-lit silhouettes

In Anticipation of Disaster - Emma Kellogg