“I can’t remember when they first showed up or where or how many there were. I know it escalated since I got to college, everything had. Before leaving, I thought I was ready for campus, ready for school, and—most importantly—ready for the freedom and social life. Turns out, college is a lot different.
I'm not saying those things aren't there, and that they don't rock at times. But I guess being surrounded by a bunch of people who are trying to take your money, accompanied only by students as clueless as you is a bit disorienting. But hey, at least you're not going to drown without learning a few things. And then you get to personal problems. Everybody's got those. But, life happens and everybody deals with it in one way or another.
For me it doesn't stop there, though. I've got these little critters that show up every and now and then to harass me. I don't think anyone else sees them, because nobody does anything when I see them. This really sucks because it means I can't make a scene or anything. Not unless I want to look like an idiot, and I don't. Occasionally they get me, make me feel strange for a few days, but I bounce back. The little cretins aren’t going to stop me from living—at least, not without a fight.
I try not to think about them when they aren’t bothering me, they’re all I can think about after they show up. But sometimes—don’t tell anyone this—they don’t always seem so bad when I think about them. That kinda scares me. They aren’t necessarily ugly—not cute, of course. What's weird is that they don’t seem evil or malicious, despite what they do to me. And they never really—
STOP!
It’s way too easy to think about them… Gotta get on a different train of thought. Trains… I wonder if they could follow me on a train. I think there’s a train close to campus. Maybe if I see them coming I could run to the train, they’re definitely too slow to follow it.
Come on Hyde! What did you just say?!
Class is going to start in fifteen minutes, I’d better head out.”
Hyde slung on his backpack, slipped on his tennies, and stepped out of his apartment. It was a decent place to live for the rent he paid—split with three other college students. Between them they each covered an affordable fee, and were within walking distance of campus. The apartment itself wasn’t in the best shape, but certainly liveable. Hyde always mused that the owners figured students would overlook some things for two reasons. One: it was close to campus, and two: it wasn’t a dorm. And for those two reasons, Hyde and his roommates had overlooked the unpredictable water temperatures, paper-thin walls, and strange smells.
Once he got to the bottom floor—his apartment was on the top—and stepped out into the world, he took a moment to take in the weather. It looked like it was going to be another gray day, not winter but not warm—usual for mid-Autumn. Hyde only hoped it didn’t rain. As long as he got to and from class dry, he wouldn’t complain.
Thankfully, his only class for the day, English 307: Bad Writing, was about five minutes from his apartment. So even if it did rain he wouldn’t get all that wet so long as he ran.
Campus was quiet, usual for Thursday mornings, but still campus: scattered with flocks of students going to or from class, group project meetings, study sessions, or meeting up with friends. For the most part they seemed to travel in packs, like wolves—maybe sheep. Hyde wasn’t really sure which animal was a better analogy.
“Sheep, definitely. The lone professors are the wolves. They’re never too far behind the little bunches of students, which I guess makes sense, seeing as they’re probably behind the students from their class. It still makes it look like they’re on the prowl, rounding up the sheep or just keeping them in line. Half of them don’t even know what they’re doing. Maybe it’s the other half they're following, the one’s who do know. Those are the ones they’ve got to watch out for, they tend to trip them up in class and put their feet down when the professors say something the other sheep nod to. Maybe those ones aren’t sheep. What would they be then, horses? I wonder which one I am.”
Hyde soon reached his building, named after someone who donated millions of dollars to the university. He had a little under ten minutes to spare, and some of the classes were just starting to get out. Professors were making their last remarks, usually either desperate attempts to encourage students to do the homework or relief that their class was finally over. Just by looking it was painfully easy to tell which professors ended their classes each way. The ones in the first group usually had either a serious expression or a kind one that had a bit of a probing nature to it. The ones in the second group were either tired or just laid back, not necessarily in a bad way. But it always seemed a little strange to see a professor more interested in being a friend than teaching.
After climbing the stairs—he never took the elevator—Hyde rounded the corner and passed the students just getting out of the room his class met in. The students were definitely relieved, although one had stayed behind to talk to the professor. She was one of those students, the ones that always stayed late. But there were three kinds of those students: the ones who did it because they were generally interested in the course material, those who were concerned about their grades, and the suck-ups. Hyde didn’t care enough to figure out which one she was, he'd seen enough of each. He made his way to the back of the classroom, a position he’d found especially useful. There were five out of the sixteen other students in the class sitting down already. Hyde recalled that there were supposed to be around twenty-one students. Two had disappeared after the second week and the other three showed up about half the time. He wasn’t particularly fond of the class, but Hyde wondered for a moment how they could justify missing class that much.
“Don’t they get in trouble? I’m sure prof docks their grades. He has to. It’d be unfair not to. Guess they just don’t care. Unless—do they see the creatures too?
Of course not. That’s ridiculous. I’ve never seen anybody else make a scene and just leave, never. They’re probably just lazy. Probably couldn’t be bothered to wake up, maybe hungover or something. It’s crazy how dumb some students are. Like, they spend thousands of dollars—or their parents do, somebody pays—to go to school, and they can’t be motivated to go to class. I can understand being sick of learning pointless stuff, sick of homework, and sick of professors, but still. Guess it’s not my problem.
Although, if I could skip one class, it would be this one. Shame it was required.”
The rest of the class trickled in, and the student from the previous class finally left. The professor let out a sigh—relief—after she was gone. He then turned to the class and started 'teaching'. He didn’t take attendance—he’d stopped after the second week—and got right into small talk. Class usually started like that, he would talk about things half the class didn’t care about for ten minutes before getting into class material he'd thought up the day before. Hyde hadn’t been able to decide which type of professor he was. He wasn’t so serious as most of the other professors but he wasn’t so laid back either. He cared—or had cared at one point—but didn’t seem to make much of an effort to use the fifty minutes allotted to his class.
“I wish he’d just get on with class… Literally nobody cares about a new sushi restaurant. Apparently Rachel does, bet her wallet doesn't. She cares about anything anyone says. Definitely a suck-up. Or maybe she's just one of those life-enthusiasts, the kind of people who are interested in everything that doesn’t matter. They think they're quirky, and that they're a part of everything. Whatever, I guess it saves us from ‘studying’ bad writing a little longer.
She’s finally done talking, class is starting.
Oh no… not again. We literally just did this exercise last week. I don’t get the point of making us write bad stories. He says it’s so that we can ‘understand what makes a bad story, therefore know how to write a good one.’
I think that’s a dumb excuse for either not knowing how to teach us how to write or just being lazy.
Show us some actual writing techniques, something Hemingway, Twain, or Fitzgerald used. Somebody who actually wrote good stuff. I wonder if he’s even written a book. He probably graduated, got a master's, and went straight to teaching. You know what they say, 'those who can't do, teach.' Honestly, why should I take his advice? I just hope he doesn’t assign any more reading. The stuff he has us read is complete garbage. The funny thing is that he doesn’t think it is. It’s modern, which I think he thinks is important because we’re ‘the next generation of writers’. I don’t see what’s so special about this generation. If the reading he assigns is anything to go by, they can’t write a sentence without swearing, only care about sex and violence, and generally don’t know a thing about prose. I bet they don’t read either.
That’s the problem with these classes, they all claim to teach writing, but they never talk about the writers who are revered for it. I mean, Hemingway is a household name. Everybody knows The Great Gatsby. Yet we study mumbo-jumbo that was written yesterday by an angsty hormonal teenager. It makes no sense.”
Hyde started doodling, the greatest testament to a student’s lack of interest.
His ‘sketches’ as he referred to them if he still liked them a week later, were usually random. Most often they were just shapes tied together by straight lines with an occasional swirl, the kind of thing that takes no thought but still looks kind of cool. But sometimes—today—his doodles included eyes, a thin face, long ears, and tight skin outlining thin bones. He vigorously scribbled over his doodle after he realized what he was drawing. That one had taken thought, and he’d accidentally drifted into it. He turned away from his paper and up at the professor, hoping that if he paid attention he’d get distracted.
It worked for the most part: he didn’t think about the creatures, but he did start getting frustrated. A fair trade-off.
“This is such a waste of money. It’s like he expects us to learn before coming to class and then teach anyone who didn’t learn.
Every class costs about $1,000. Isn’t that ridiculous? Considering the amount of work some of the professors do and the amount us poor students get out, most of the classes should be at most a quarter of that. This one should be free. Prof doesn’t prepare anything, and I am definitely not getting anything out of just showing up to chit-chat.
I get why some classes cost that much. Lilly was talking about her physics class, all the lab assignments they do and the high-tech tools they use. See that I get. It takes money to buy all that stuff, and it teaches concepts that are set in stone and stuff. But writing is so different. It’s all in the mind, and somewhere deeper too, somewhere nobody but you can touch. I bet if I spent $1,000 buying books, fifty minutes on Tuesdays and Thursdays studying them, and then the time we spend on assignments actually writing, I’d learn triple what I’m learning in this class.
I wonder what Lilly would think if she was in this class. She’s so practical, I bet she’d be just as annoyed as I am. She’s also an engineering major though, so she might not really enjoy creative writing at all.”
With fifteen minutes left, Hyde started to get antsy. He could see it in some of the other students too: they’d start looking more awake, some would tap their feet, and some of the more bold ones would put away their notepads or laptops and zip up their backpacks. Every professor hated that one. It was a direct message saying, ‘I don’t care enough about this class to take any more notes.’ Hyde always enjoyed watching different professors react to this act of indifference. Some got stern, raising their voice and trying to stop the rest of the class from following suite. That rarely worked. Others got this anxious look in their eyes, as if they knew they couldn't stop the hurricane of zipping, rustling, and foot-tapping inspired by the one bold student. Others made an attempt to humiliate or villainize the first zipper—always subtly of course. They would say 'we've got plenty of time to cover this next section' while glaring at the student who'd zipped.
That was one of the shifts in power that Hyde liked to see. Not a single one had managed to subdue a class once the time was up. Because not even the professors, though they directed and loomed over students like smiling thunderclouds, could command time. Because nothing is better than walking out of a classroom, nothing is better than freedom.
As his eyes shifted across the room, they caught on two small spheres in one corner. He narrowed his eyes at them a moment and then sat up. They were glowing slightly, a pale gray light only just bright enough to stand out.
“No… no no no!”
Hyde couldn’t stay in the class any longer. He wouldn’t just sit there and let it drain him. He put his notepad back in his backpack, slowly zipping it. The professor noticed, of course, and started to look anxious. He glanced around at the rest of his students to see if they were eager to leave too.
Being in the back, Hyde knew that no one would be able to stop him from leaving. He was close to a door, the closest one in the room. It was time to leave.
Hyde got up quickly but as quietly as he could and swung his backpack around one of his shoulders. He looked back, not at the professor or the envious glances he’d get from his classmates, but at the peering creature in the corner. It was just watching, almost like it had been expecting him to leave.
Once in the empty hall, Hyde started moving quicker. They weren’t very fast, so if he was able to get out of the building he’d be safe. Outside he could walk, even run, for however long it took for them to give up.
Hyde stopped when he got to the stairs. There on the landing was another one, looking up at him ambiguously, its long ears drooping down as it sat on its thin haunches.
Hyde froze for a moment, before realizing that the other one wouldn’t be far behind him by now.
There were only two routes left to take. The first and most preferable one was the last staircase at the other end of the building. It wasn’t a far trip, especially if he ran, and better than the last route: the elevator. He couldn’t control the speed of the elevator, and he couldn’t keep watch for the creatures. Of all the places in the building—except for the bathroom, maybe—it was the easiest place to get trapped.
Hyde started running for the staircase. Turning down the hallways, he breathed freely when he saw they were empty. His mind was racing, following the quickest path to freedom. He passed the elevator. There was only one more hallway. He entered it and saw the staircase, its tall windows signaling the open world beyond.
But a sickly shape was sitting just in front of the staircase, outlined in the dim grays of Autumn.
“No!”
Hyde stopped again. They’d studied his route. They knew all the exits. They were getting smarter, adapting to his solutions. Hyde turned around, the elevator was his last hope.
He reached it in seconds, thankful that the other classes weren’t out yet. He jammed the button repeatedly, watching both directions for the sight of his small pursuers. One rounded the corner—the one from the classroom. It was approaching slowly, almost confidently. Hyde started pressing the button quicker.
The elevator door finally opened, its cheerful ding oblivious to how slow it was. The moment he was in, Hyde jammed the first-floor button. The doors hesitated a moment but slowly closed. Once they did, Hyde sighed and leaned back against the wall. But he knew he wasn’t safe yet. Not until he was out of the building. After that, he’d run. He’d run as long as he needed to. Across and around campus, until he didn’t see them anymore.
Suddenly he noticed something: a stir within him that seeped morose hues: blues, faded greens, and an occasional flare of crimson.
“No, I made it away, I—”
Hyde looked down. One of the creatures was in the elevator, touching his leg with a thin hand and looking up at him with its miserable bulbous eyes. He tried to shake it off, but it had already started. And once it was started, he couldn’t shake it; it would run its course. So he stared ahead, his eyes dead but his mind spiraling downward and into deeper hues as the elevator reached the bottom floor. The door opened and Hyde looked out to see two more of the creatures waiting. He didn’t resist, didn’t lash out in fear or anger, but sat there as they approached. They touched him, draining something from him slowly. Yellows, orange, neon, all the colors of summer and spring were sucked out of him. But they didn't leave him empty, they filled him with other more mature and violent colors.
A girl entered the elevator and asked if he was getting out. Hyde looked at her, almost confused, as if he hadn’t heard her. He then shook his head and looked down at the creatures.
“I’m not going anywhere.
I wonder what she thinks of me. She’s probably terrified. I look like a hoodlum. She probably thinks I’m high. She seems like a nice girl, too nice for me. Jeez, I’m horrible.
Stop thinking Hyde.”
The elevator stopped and she left, but Hyde’s mind stayed on her as the doors closed again. Whether it was due to the creatures or his own thoughts, he pictured her being oblivious to the real world. She didn’t know a thing about pain or suffering. She was one of the ordinary, one of the students whose lives are easy apart from the occasional B or roommate quarrel. Not like his. She didn’t struggle day-to-day for years, looking over her shoulders for monsters wanting to violate her mind.
After they'd taken their fill and stuffed Hyde to the brim, the creatures removed their hands. They stood in front of him, looking up.
“What do you want? You’ve been fed, get away from me.
Why don’t they just leave?
Maybe they don’t want to, maybe they can’t. I don’t know. Maybe they need me to open the doors. There they go. Now they’re leaving.
Why me. What did I do to deserve this. What is wrong with me. Why am I so horrible. Why can’t I be ordinary?
I just want to be done. I can’t take much more. Why did I live this long? I didn’t think I’d make it past high school. Maybe I was hoping I wouldn’t. I hope I don’t make it past college. Maybe it’s a choice.”
A little over a week later, Hyde was coming back from class. This time, nothing was following him and he hadn’t been robbed of his emotions. In fact, despite it being Monday, he was actually feeling pretty good. He’d spent the weekend back home with his family, as he always did, and was recharged for the hardships every student faces. And while he considered his exceptional, his family was usually enough to boost him up a bit. Just enough to last another week.
What’s more, Lilly had surprised him by wanting to ‘get lunch’ sometime. Hyde had been flustered beyond words when she’d texted him and was still trying to decipher the incident.
“Does she really mean she just wants to get lunch? Or does she want to get lunch in a different way? I’m so pathetic.
I always wondered why she hung out with me. I thought it was because she was, I don’t know, similar. I never saw her surrounded by friends, or even talking often with her classmates. I don’t think she’s introverted, not crazy introverted. Maybe a little, though. Probably not as much as me.
Why does that matter anyway? I mean, can’t different people get along? Why does it have to be two introverted people? Well actually, considering the extroverted people I know, I couldn’t stand being with one. I’m sure they’re not bad people, they just—I don’t know, they’re just too much. They step all over everyone and everybody bows down and licks their toes. I don’t get it.
But what really gets me is their conversations. It’s like they have no attention span whatsoever. Either that or they’re just jerks. They can be listening while not caring at all what you’re talking about. Every answer is so surface level it’s not even worth saying, and the conversation always—always—gets turned back to themselves somehow.
And I even heard one extrovert say that there aren’t introverts and extroverts. He said everyone is an extrovert.
Jeez, that helps. Easy to say when you live on the golden side, when people flock to you and your self-centeredness is a virtue. That just means that we, the introverts, are broken extroverts or something.
It makes me sick. More than sick. Makes me mad. If I’d talked to that guy much longer I swear I would’ve hit him.
I always wanted to hit someone, just to see what it'd feel like. It may be bad, but I don’t really care. I’ll probably never actually do it anyway.
What am I even thinking about? Jeez. Just calm down and go to lunch with Lilly.”
And so, the next day at noon, he met Lilly for lunch.
He got there a bit early—it seemed like the cordial thing to do—and had a table ready. It was a casual place in the basement of a university building, more of a studying spot really. Students could make any place a study place though. Set up a five-star restaurant in the middle of campus and the rich foreign students, or just the ones who didn't watch their finances, would turn it into a library. All part of the college experience.
Hyde suddenly got nervous.
“What if she does think of it as more than lunch? What am I supposed to do? I’ve never had a girlfriend.
Jeez.
Why hasn’t the waiter come by yet. I could use some water.”
Before long, Lilly showed up, a backpack slung over her shoulder.
“Crap! She just wanted a study-buddy! I’m so stupid!”
Lilly took the seat across from him and set her backpack down. They got into small talk, and Hyde felt a bit of relief as he remembered she had a class that got out just before noon. That meant she wasn’t planning on studying during lunch, she was just coming from class.
The waiter showed up before long and they ordered. Without thinking Hyde ordered his go-to: chicken fingers. Lilly ordered a salad, and Hyde felt his ears go red for a moment.
“Chicken fingers… Who orders chicken fingers on a date?
Date? Who said this was a date? Just two friends—classmates—hanging out.
Chicken fingers… She probably thinks I’m stupid. Why couldn’t they at least call them chicken strips, whoever thought of chickens having fingers is stupid. It is a funny image, though.”
Lilly made no comment on Hyde’s chicken fingers, but he was sure she was disappointed.
“Should’ve got a salad…”
But soon they started talking again and his anxiety slowly trickled away. Hyde forgot all about the chicken fingers and was even able to enjoy himself. Lilly was fascinating, everything she said and did had a sort of importance to it. Hyde wasn’t sure if he was the only one who realized it, or maybe the only one who took the time to study it. Either way, he was almost as fascinated with her as he was with the creatures. Maybe he could be more, maybe in time.
“Why is it so easy to talk to her? Maybe it’s because she listens.
No, other people listen too. Maybe it’s because I’m actually saying stuff worth saying, not just the mind-numbing thoughts everybody wants to hear someone else say. I don't know.
I wish she was in my group, it’d make showing up to meetings so much easier. Instead, I’m stuck with Shaun and Emma. Alex doesn’t even show up, so he doesn’t count. I’m definitely going to be honest about him when we give our group critiques. He’s going to regret skipping our meetings.
If Lilly was in our group I wouldn’t mind doing so much of the work. I would legit do it all.
She’s so cool.”
It was about twenty minutes into lunch when Hyde saw a thin shape crawl on top of a distant table. Lilly was saying something that he’d been fascinated by just a moment ago, but suddenly he lost all ability to focus. The creature sat hunched on the table, its pale eyes watching him, waiting for him.
“No… no no no… Why here? Why now? Couldn’t it have been in an hour?”
Lilly asked him if was alright, noting that his complexion had suddenly changed. Hyde, completely flustered and embarrassed, turned back to her. He tried to keep eye contact with her as he came up with a reason to leave.
“Tell her you’ve got a group meeting. Check your phone first, she’ll think you got a message or something. Yeah, that’s good. I’ll text her later and apologize.
Do I really have to leave though? I mean, what would happen if I stayed and let it get me?
Crap, there’s another one across the room, I’ve really got to get going.”
Lilly began to fade from importance as he noticed a third creature walking slowly toward him. Hyde offered his excuse, hoped she bought it, and jumped up. He thought he heard her call his name in confusion, but it didn’t matter anymore. It didn’t matter if she never talked to him again.
“Staying away from them is more important, right?”
He suddenly stopped after turning a corner.
“What would’ve happened if I’d just sat there and let them take me? Lilly wouldn’t have seen them. But would she have noticed what they did to me? How could she not? Wouldn’t she have been weirded out and dumped me anyway?
‘Dumped.’ Haha.”
Hyde let go of the thought, knowing that they would be trying to close off his exits. Lucky for him, the restaurant was in one of the central hubs on campus, meaning there were tons of exits. They couldn’t close them all off.
He started moving quickly, checking behind his shoulder occasionally. So far, none had followed him out of the main dining area. But that didn’t mean there wouldn’t be any up ahead. Hyde ran his mind through the quickest route.
“If I head right, take that hallway until I get to that one ritzy coffee shop, I’ll be close to an exit. It’ll be a tight hallway though, and if one is at the end—”
He stopped again and turned around.
“Fudge-monkeys! That’s the route they wanted me to take! They're getting smarter. They’ve probably been watching me.
Okay, so where do I go now? I can make it back to the main area without getting caught by the ones who were behind me, I’ll take a different route though. From there, I’ve got a few options. I could cut through the library—the actual library. It’d be a bit longer, but I don’t think they’d be expecting it. Or—”
Hyde started out toward the main area but kept his mind spinning.
“Or I could take the longest route. They could’ve taken precautions for me taking a different route, they know I’m faster than them, after all. If I go to the banquet hall, down that hallway, and up the stairs, I’d be a long way from where we started. I doubt they thought of that.”
Hyde took to his new plan and picked up his pace. The creatures were slow, but they were clever. He was learning that more and more. And since he never knew when they were going to pop up, he needed to be faster and smarter than they were. Speed was easy, but thinking rationally was a little more difficult. All it took was one look at them to get his heart racing and his mind turning.
He moved as quickly and carefully as he could and made it back to the main area without seeing the little cretins. There was a crowd forming now, students going to class or showing up to empty their wallets and trickle a meager meal into their stomachs.
“Be careful, they’re hard to see in crowds.”
Hyde weaved into the crowd, sticking as far from the middle as he could. Less people walked by the walls, meaning he could see better. He knew their miserable little shapes well enough by now to catch them slinking between the legs of the crowd.
As he was passing the restaurant, he suddenly slowed his pace.
“Is that Lilly? Why is she going this way?”
Lilly was several paces ahead, if he hadn’t been paying attention he would’ve walked right by her.
“That would’ve been bad. She’d probably think I was lying about the group meeting. Or worse, she’d think I was bored and didn’t want to hang out with her.
Why does she walk so slow?”
The crowd had begun to thin out as they got out of the main area, and Hyde was starting to see a big wrinkle in his plan. With Lilly in front of him, he couldn’t possibly make a quick exit. He’d have to stay at the same pace she was moving, which wasn’t very efficient. If they caught on to his dilemma, they might pick up the pace and realize that he couldn’t go much faster than them anymore. Hyde checked behind him.
“Of course. One of them’s not far behind. Crap, he’s picked up his pace. Where are the others?”
Hyde started to grow anxious. He wanted to just run past Lilly, regardless of whether or not she’d recognize him from behind.
“Of course she’d recognize me. I wear the same hoodie every day. And yeah, it would matter.”
He kept his pace, watching his pursuer carefully. They rounded a corner and entered the last hallway.
“There it is, the door!”
Hyde became suddenly aware of how loud his footsteps were. He realized that Lilly could hear him, and—if he wasn’t careful—could turn around at any given moment. Then he’d been done for. She’d want to talk, and slow him down even more. Then they’d reach him for sure.
Hyde looked back to see that the creature was getting closer, its eyes hungrily watching him.
“Sometimes they look like puppy eyes. Disgusting.”
Suddenly, Lilly turned into a side door. It was a sharp maneuver, and if she was a cautious person she might’ve glimpsed Hyde over her shoulder as she did it. But she kept her eyes forward, and Hyde—though terrified by the unexpected movement—couldn’t help but watch her eyes.
“She looks sad. Or mad. Maybe both. Crap. I’m such an idiot. I should’ve just sat there and taken the little creeps.”
He turned back to see that the creature had almost reached him, and that the others were turning the corner not far behind. He hurried through the empty hallway in front of him. Once he reached the door, his heart began to fire off pounding beats. Any words that he would’ve said out loud would have had to pass through gritted teeth.
“Alright, you sacks of garbage, how fast are you?”
The moment he stepped into the dead light of Autumn, he broke into a sprint. It didn’t matter where, it didn’t matter who saw him, he just ran.
“Not today, little creeps! You tried, but not today!”
Several students sidestepped out of his way as he streaked toward them.
“Running on campus is so easy to cover up. Everybody just thinks you’re late for a class. Nobody thinks you’re running from little monsters only you can see. I guess it does make me look like a freshie. Or a try-hard.
That’s okay, I don’t care what they think. Why should I? I don’t know them and they don’t know me. Who cares if they think I’m deranged. I’m not deranged. I’m perfectly normal.
Look at them, just casual glances. They’ve run on campus before. Probably not from monsters, though.”
After running for a little over a minute, Hyde slowed down and checked over his shoulder.
“Gone. Just like that. I should live outside.”
He smiled as he thought of them despairing and turning around after trying to keep up. But then his mind went back to Lilly. He remembered the expression she had as she’d turned into the side door. It didn’t strike him as the kind of face someone has when they’re not thinking about anything important. It was the kind of face people had when they were thinking of something important.
“Jeez… Why did they have to show up today? Why do they have to show up at all? What is their problem? Why me? Is it something I’ve done? Do they only like depressed people? Surely campus has other depressed people. I’m not depressed, am I? What would I have to be depressed about?”
Hyde scoffed as he ran over the list of things that kept him up at night. As he circled the list, he noticed that something new was added each time. He couldn’t remember adding some of the items, but he didn’t disagree with them being on the list. It got longer and longer until he walked a whole block before running through it once. When he stopped, he lowered his brows and looked around him.
“Where am I? I don’t think I’ve ever walked this far. I’m definitely off campus.”
Hyde was standing in front of a highway, cars and buses speeding past. He was at the end of the sidewalk, close enough to feel short gusts of wind from the passing vehicles. He closed his eyes as he felt them.
Woosh.
Woosh woosh.
Woooooosh.
The buses really got him. They were more powerful and lasted longer, and could push him over if he wasn’t careful.
“I wonder how fast they’re going. It’s got to be pretty fast to create such strong wind. I can’t imagine being a fly trying to cross the road. Boom! Instant death. Hopefully.”
Later that day, close to 11 PM, Hyde lay awake. One of his roommates was already sleeping, the other was out ‘studying’. After the day’s incident, he couldn’t shake the thought of how vulnerable he was in bed.
“They have no trouble getting through doors, they could literally do whatever it is they do to me every night if they wanted. Once I’m asleep, I’m out. I can’t remember ever seeing them when I’m going to bed. Why only when I’m awake? It’s almost like they’re just here to interrupt my life. Nothing’s happening while I’m asleep, so there’s no point in showing up. Little snipes.
It’s so quiet now.
I almost wish they would come now. At least then I wouldn’t have to worry about them for a while. It’s not so bad at night, either. For the most part. I guess it depends, really.
I just wish it wouldn’t happen during important things.”
Hyde curled into his blankets and faced the wall. The wall was coarse and rough, a pale gray color.
“I wonder how long ago it was painted. I bet it’s been at least ten years. Probably more.
I wonder how many people have slept here, facing the same wall. I wonder if any of them saw the creatures. I doubt it. They were probably normal.
Wait a minute. It’s not necessarily that I’m abnormal, is it? Maybe it was a random selection. Who says it has to be a problem with me? It’s not like I invited them or anything.”
Hyde pulled into the lane, an archway of pine trees sheltering his car from the drizzle that had set in. The secluded two-story house (one story being the basement) came into view, and he couldn’t help but smile. There was no place like home. After every week of classes, mindless conversations, and keeping up with the unique demands (or lack thereof) of each of his professors, Hyde always found rest, real rest, at home. There, hidden behind walls of trees, he forgot everything and was able to be a part of something he knew. What’s better, the creatures never followed him. At home he didn’t have to check over his shoulders every five minutes, at home, he could be himself.
He parked, shut off his car, and then carried his belongings to the door.
It was pizza night, every Friday was pizza night. Homemade pizza, of course—eating out is expensive.
“I don’t get how so many students can eat out so often. I get that they might not be paying for tuition, but still, what about textbooks, rent, clothes, and everything else? It’s not like they’re only eating at Mcdonald’s either. Some places are pretty pricey, especially if they’re on campus. But most students don’t really care, they’re happy to let the restaurants drain them.
Let’s say the average meal costs around $7, that’s with a drink and taxes and all that. I think that’s a fair estimate. Maybe a little too lenient given most student’s appetites though.
Just through observation, I think it’s safe to say that the average student eats out about three times per week. This doesn’t count ice cream or anything extra. That’s close to $21 a week. Jeez. Some of them have part-time jobs I guess.
I wonder how much groceries cost in comparison. I’ve been taking back leftovers every weekend, so I don’t think I’ve been to the store in… probably since my first semester. Wow. Glad my parents don’t live too far away.”
The evening set in like most: Hyde’s family had insisted on waiting to start dinner until he’d arrived, which was a little after 6:30. There were three pizzas: one cheese, one pepperoni, and one with half each. They could never decide whether to make two full pepperonis or not. Almost every Friday, somebody wanted more or less pepperoni than they did the previous one, making it incredibly difficult to estimate. And, with a total of seven people in the house (Hyde included) every piece counted.
During dinner, Hyde received the usual questions: ‘how was your week?’ ‘how are your roommates?’ ‘classes going okay?’ He answered the same as he usually did, but he always had a curiosity hidden behind his flat answers.
“I wonder what they’d think if I told them about the creatures. Kinda strange I haven’t already, actually. Maybe if I had started seeing them when I was younger I would’ve. It just seems strange to do it now. Since they can’t see them, they might not believe me anyway. I probably wouldn’t believe it if someone told me they had little creatures stalking them. Still… is it enough of a problem for me to say something?
No, probably not. I mean, I’ve made it this far, haven’t I? It’s not so bad, as long as I get to come home every weekend. I can manage getting jumped a few times during the week. Of course, it’d be nice if I didn’t have to. Whatever. I’m stuck with the little creeps, no use wishing it would get better.”
After dinner, while doing the dishes, the family debated what movie they’d watch. While Fridays were pizza night, they were also movie nights. The whole family gathered around a small screen and watched intently, making jokes when the movie was corny and too enthralled to speak when they’d found a new favorite. Of course, it usually took about thirty minutes to decide what to watch. Despite how close the family was, there was a pretty wide variety of tastes. Some preferred sci-fi flicks over grim dramas, and some wanted to laugh every time they watched a movie. Still others wanted something with animals, and some had to have a bit of romance. So they usually ended up having to give to one genre and promise to go with someone else’s next time. Regardless, everyone had a good time.
After deciding what snacks to bring (usually another ten-to-fifteen minutes), the family clambered onto the couches and settled in. Hyde was on a long couch, in between two of his siblings. He was already lighter than he’d been for the past five days, and was forgetting all of his college cares. But suddenly, as the movie started, he felt a little different.
One of his siblings made a joke, one he knew was funny, but he didn’t laugh. That little spark of surprise that ignites when we laugh was gone. Hyde lowered his brows, and then looked down. There at his feet, eyes studying him as they always do, was one of the creatures. It had already touched him and started its work.
“What the—no, no no no! You don’t come here! You can’t come here! Why are you here?! Why—”
Hyde’s eyes drooped, not from weariness, but from the mind-numbing surge of emotion the creatures instilled. The homely scene shifted. It was no longer warm and comforting, no longer a place of solace and rest. It was on fire and frozen at the same time. But he was the only one who noticed. How were these people any different than the ones at college?
“Why did I ever think things would be better just by coming home? The creatures don’t care where I am, why should I see things any differently? It’s not different. I’m still who I am, wherever I go.”
Hyde noticed another creature climb up the back of the couch and come near his head. It reached out and touched him, sharing in the feast. Hyde made a decision then, to do whatever it took to escape the creatures. He turned his head back to the screen.
“What’s happening? Why are people even entertained by this? This is so dumb. That was a bad joke. None of this is fun. Why did I come home? I should’ve just stayed on campus. I could’ve outrun them. I should’ve crossed the road.”
Hyde went to and from classes, walking a little slower every time he stepped out of the door. He was late a few times, but he didn’t really care much.
“Most of them won’t count me off. They know that there’s not much point in showing up on time. At least they’re honest with themselves about their classes.
The ones who do count me off are the ones who are still pretending they’re teaching important things. Who cares about your obscure literature class? I can guarantee you nobody actually wants to read the books you’ve assigned. Actually, I’ll do you one better, I bet half of the students won’t read them. You'll still give them an A, though.
There are enough notes online to fill any essay. They’ll pitch the books as soon as the class is over. But the college still wins I guess, we’ve still got to fork out the money to buy the books.”
The Autumn sky seemed to grow grayer and grayer as the semester dragged on. Without the sun, Hyde saw very few reasons to look up.
“It’s not like I ever really liked the sun anyway. Always too hot and bright. Brings out the bugs too, not to mention the students who think they’ve got a body worth showing off. Seriously, put some clothes on. You’re a disgrace.
Even if they had a body to show off, what makes them think anyone wants to see it? How vain do you have to be to parade around without a shirt? For real.
What really gets me though is that some people don't just do it in Summer or Spring. Look at her shorts! It’s like forty degrees out, how is she not freezing? People are stupid. Students especially.”
True to his promise, Hyde had avoided the creatures, simply because he refused to stay in one place for very long. He always left class a little early, and never ate indoors. When he had to study—he put it off as much as he could—he did it outside. Studying was a nightmare because it was designed to capture a student’s attention, pull them into whatever scheme their professors designed. If he was really studying, he wasn’t watching out for the creatures. And if he was watching out for the creatures, he wasn’t really studying. Of course, watching out for the creatures took priority most of the time. Hyde’s grades began to drop—not that he cared—and he started to drop out of social existence. He rarely texted Lilly, although she had mentioned wanting to meet again.
“I still can’t tell if she’s mad at me for leaving that one day. If she is, I get it I guess. But what choice did I have? I’d do it again if I had to. That’s why I shouldn’t hang out with her anymore, I’d just end up leaving again. The little imps have it out for me, so they’d definitely show up if I met her again. Best to just leave her alone.”
Days passed, and Hyde got better and better at avoiding the creatures, although they followed him relentlessly. The biggest question he faced every Friday was whether he should go home or not. He hadn’t stayed in his apartment for more than one weekend in a row, so staying was a daunting thing. But he remembered the last experience he’d had at home. He remembered how vulnerable he’d been and how quickly and easily the creatures had caught him. There was no way to avoid them at home. Everyone wanted to be around him when he was home, and he wanted to be around everyone too. He couldn’t loiter outside, ready to sprint down the street or into the woods at a moment’s notice.
The first weekend he decided to stay at his apartment was met with concerned texts from his parents and siblings. He had told them he was going to a campus event, a vague enough response that they wouldn't be able to verify it. Every weekend had campus events, desperate attempts to suck students dry during their four-year sentence.
While he expected them to be somewhat proud that he was finally branching out, his family had expressed a hidden concern that he easily picked up on.
“Why are they so worried? I’m twenty years old. Most students stay on campus the entire semester. Maybe that’s why; I’ve come home every weekend. I wonder if they think something’s wrong with me. I probably would. I really hope they don’t though. I just want things to be normal, especially with them.”
And so he stayed for a weekend. And then another weekend. And then another, until he couldn't remember when he last visited home.
Hyde spent the majority of his time walking, a playlist of carefully selected songs filling his ears. The creatures made their appearances, but he was prepared. He knew they never showed up when he was sleeping, so all he had to do was stay on campus—outside—for the entire day. Whenever he saw them, he broke into a sprint and didn’t look back until he was sure they’d given up.
The days went quickly, and evading the creatures was all that Hyde thought about. He ate less, talked less, and did much less homework. He didn’t acknowledge it, but he was exhausted. His legs begged him to stop walking, and his feet groaned as his shoes wore down. But he wouldn’t buy walking shoes, or even a new pair, even when his toes started to catch glimpses of the Autumn light from inside their shell.
“I don’t need new shoes. Shoes are expensive. Everything’s fine. I’m a normal student just walking around.”
Eventually, he’d avoided the creatures for so long that he started to believe he was normal. Or at least, he believed he had a chance at being normal. He’d finally been able to subdue his skulking adversaries, however much it had cost him. But as he explored the idea of becoming normal, a foreign idea in itself, new questions formed.
“Why are normal people so hard to be normal around? Why don’t things click as easily as they used to? I haven’t been touched by the creatures in weeks, why aren’t I normal yet. What is normal?”
The days continued, and Hyde was continuously plagued by these questions. He couldn’t understand why—even though he was so far ahead of the creatures—he was less normal than he used to be. He could see it in the eyes of his classmates. They didn’t look at him anymore. No one did. And if they did, it was like they were looking through him—behind him. He wasn't even there, or worse—invisible.
His own roommates started to take less interest in him, or at least, that’s what he began to think. They got along with each other as well as they ever had, but he seemed to fade away, present only when he paid his rent.
His mind worked slowly, like a rusting great needing constant encouragement. He didn’t have lapses in energy or dips in his mood, but only because he no longer had energy or any sort of mood he understood. He wondered if it was for the better.
The biggest contemplation came the next time he spotted one of the creatures. He was outside, as always, and noticed it standing a ways off ahead of him. He stopped, a gasp of Autumn brushing over his face. It didn’t approach, and he immediately stopped, keeping his eyes on it.
“It’s setting a trap. Where are the others? Should I backtrack or turn to the right. There’s a long path to the right. If I take that I can—”
But, to his surprise, the creature started to turn away. Its ragged shoulders sagged and it lowered its head, ears drooping lower than Hyde had ever seen them, and walked back the way it had come.
“What the—what’s it doing? This is a trap. It’s trying to lure me toward it. Or maybe it’s trying to make me feel safe, catch me off guard.”
He stood, turning first around and then back at the creature, but couldn’t see any signs of an attack. He lowered his brows and watched as the creature faded off into the crowd. It didn’t turn back, not once. Hyde continued walking, but the interaction stayed with him.
“What in the world just happened? Why didn’t it attack me? Why was there only one?”
A sudden thought came to him then, one that made him breathe a little quicker.
“Did I win? Did they give up for good? Maybe they found someone else.”
He kept walking, considering the possibility.
“If they did give up, I can get my life back, right? I can go home on the weekends, I can meet with Lilly, I can hang out with friends. I can—”
Hyde stopped as he got to a street he had to cross. There, on the other side of it, was one of the creatures. Instead of watching and waiting for him eerily, like they always do, it was leaning up against the wall of a building. Its eyes were almost closed, mere slits revealing its pale miserable spheres. Its arms were spread on either side of the sidewalk, its legs stretched in front of it. If it wasn’t slowly blinking every now and then, Hyde would have thought it was dead.
He watched it, wondering whether he should cross or not. That was the direction he had been headed, but he could just as easily circle the block. Something kept him from leaving. Curiosity, not pity. Surely not pity. Definitely not pity.
After it had already gone through two cycles, the pedestrian crossing symbol flashed again. Hyde’s feet moved, taking him across the street. He was almost in a trance, absorbed in the small creature, yet a piece of him was grounded in caution. He was ready to run, and would do it if the creature suddenly leapt up.
When he reached the other side of the street, he stopped in front of the creature.
“What are you doing? Why are you so…”
The creature looked up, its head rising almost in slow motion. Those great big droopy ears twitched a little, maybe even raised slightly. Its eyes opened a little wider, revealing a gray light. Hyde caught something in the eyes, he almost thought it was hope.
“No. I’m not going to let you leech me. I don’t feel any pity for you, you hear me? I’m happy you’re dying. I’m literally laughing I’m so happy.”
The creature shut its eyes and lowered its head. Hyde lowered himself on his haunches.
“How does it feel to be empty? Sucks, doesn’t it? That’s what you did to me. That’s what you’ve been doing to me for the past… however long, I don’t know how long it’s been.”
The creature didn’t move, but its little chest rose and fell.
“Good riddance.”
Hyde turned from it and walked down the street. He gritted his teeth and stopped himself from looking over his shoulder.
Days passed. Hyde could hardly find a reason to rise from his bed.
“Grades don’t matter. Class doesn’t matter. Classmates and professors matter even less. Nothing matters.”
But most mornings he managed to pull himself up and get dressed. What he wore didn’t matter either. His hoodie and beanie masked everything anyway.
Heading off to class, he wondered why he was still going.
“I probably won't pay attention anyway. Not that there’s much to pay attention to.”
When he sat down, the trivial and repetitive stupidities of every class started.
“Not again. Shut up about your boat. Shut up about your dog. Shut up about this book. I hate this. I hate all of this. This is so stupid. There’s nothing valuable being said here. Who cares about any of this. Nobody is going to remember you once we graduate. Does it make you feel good to diss students? What a man-baby. Grow up.”
Hyde’s mind spiraled and twisted, until he could hardly control it—not that he really tried. Thoughts and images rose and fell like waves, each one coming dangerously close to tipping his boat. But the storm was draped in gray, all points of excitement dulled and dried up. He hardly noticed when he got up out of class and walked to the next. But he saw very clearly the creatures watching him from a distance, their faces growing thinner and their eyes larger. They watched him somberly, pitifully.
“Why do they stick around? They know I’m not going to let them get me. Pathetic miserable creatures.”
But the more he saw them, the more Hyde remembered the life he used to have. He remembered the good times as well as the misery he felt when they reached him, the marvelous and wicked fountain of color that had once been inside. It wasn't simple blue or yellow, it was blue, yellow, red, black, green, pink, everything. It was everything.
“What did you take from me?! Why aren’t I normal?! I got rid of you, things should be normal now!
“What is going on. Why can’t it be simple? Why can’t I just feel normal? Does it have to be both?”
He started to see that something needed to change. He had to do something. He couldn’t endure the dry atmosphere anymore.
One day, after trying to wedge a bit of color into the grainy fuzz that filled his brain, he texted Lilly.
“This is stupid. She’s not going to want to meet. Why should she? Last time you ditched her. Plus you haven’t talked to her in like forever. Not normally, at least. Any talking you’ve done has been through this haze.
Why’d I send the text? I should’ve just gone out to drink or something. I don't think I've ever been drunk. I wonder if that would-”
Lilly texted back.
“What the—she wants to hang out? Why? I wouldn’t want to hang out with me. Nobody would. Why does she?”
For the first time in a long time, Hyde’s mind drifted away. It started to leave his body and swirl with a bit of color in it. But before long it returned, dragged in by the chains firmly attached to it.
“This is going to be a disaster. Sure, the creatures are gone now, but you’re still going to mess it up. I mean, look at you: you’re pathetic. You hardly do anything, you can hardly think about anything. Why did I send that text…”
The next day, Hyde showed up to meet with Lilly. On his way, he couldn't help but notice the creatures, their feeble glances at him. They were pitiful, almost as pitiful as him.
“I don’t pity them. I don’t—”
He noticed a different look in one of their eyes. It stopped him, shocked him, and sent a shiver of fury through him.
“Is that pity?! You’ve got to be kidding me. You can’t pity me, that’s not how this works!”
He kept walking, but thoughts and the presence of the creatures followed.
Lilly was already there when he arrived, and he took the seat across from her. He felt very little anxiety, so much less than he did the last time they’d met. But he didn’t feel excited either. And although she smiled and started conversation, he could hardly look at her. He could only see one of the creatures staring at him from the other side of the room.
“What are you looking at me for?”
His heart started to quiver. Why, he couldn’t tell. He looked at the creature, noticed its miserable eyes and pitiful expression. It wanted him, needed him. He started to think, started to wonder.
“Where did these things come from? Why am I the only one that sees them? Are they… are they me? A part of me?
No way. Stop it. That’s stupid… right?”
But the longer he thought about it, the more he began to pity the creature. It reflected him, reflected how he felt, or what he didn't. He saw himself in its eyes.
“What, am I supposed to just let you take me then? Or, let me take me, I guess?”
The creature seemed to realize what was happening, and started to get up. It moved slowly, like a thing bled dry and left for dead. But its eyes were alive, filling with eager anticipation.
As it approached, Hyde hesitated.
“If I’m going to run, this is my last chance.”
But he didn’t move. The creature went up to the table, its wretched little form strange and twisted standing beside Lilly. But it felt different than before, and more connected to him than Lilly was. He stared at it, surprised that it hadn’t leapt at his legs. Instead, it reached its two little hands over the side of the table and stared up at Hyde. It was waiting for him.
Hyde shifted, his lower lip quivering slightly. If Lilly was saying something, he couldn't hear it.
He pulled up his right hand and moved it toward the creature. It didn’t move. With a slow and cautious reach, he placed his hand on its head.
In a moment, feeling shot through him. Crimson oceans mixed with burst of fire and blue lightning spiraled through him, churning and twisting and filling him. His eyes moved quicker, his breath wasn’t so slow and stale, he saw color in the world. He heard Lilly talking, and could understand and sympathize with her. He was interested, fascinated in her. What she was saying was important.
The creature patted his hand, a strange and disturbing gesture. Hyde removed his hand and knew that his mind would start its turbulent roller coaster. But wherever it was taking him, he would feel it. He would experience this part of him, fight it, and love it.
“Lilly is so cool. She’s so smart too. I have no idea what she’s talking about, but it sure is neat. I wish I was smarter. I can hardly do basic math, let alone whatever physics equation she’s talking about. I’m so dumb. But she doesn’t mind. That’s so weird.
But is it, really? Why should she mind? Why do I care? Whatever.
I wish my sandwich didn’t have mayo. It’s still pretty good though.”
This story is one of my favorites I've done so far, and I hope to turn it into a novel someday. It's largely based on my personal experiences during college (dramatized a bit, of course). I think something that makes this story special to me is that the experiences in it are not entirely unique to me. College is an insanely difficult time in a lot of people's lives, and so many students have gone through horrible mental struggles during it. I'm blessed to have made it out, some don't. I remember hearing about a student that threw themself off a building one day. It was a chilling wakeup to the fact that so many people struggle with the same issues, and some right next to each other. But we still have this tendency to fight by ourselves, as if it's somehow better.
The story itself is a bit complex in that it doesn't deal with a complete resolution to the overall mental struggle Hyde faces. By the end, he isn't healed, although he does have some peace. Something I've come to realize lately is that we can't just get rid of our emotions. It seems like the obvious solution to dealing with depression, but I don't think it's that simple. A lot of people think depression is emptiness. Sometimes it is, but more often it's a violent hurricane of different emotions, all fighting for dominance. So, if that hurricane suddenly disappears, what's left? Only the wreckage. I think we have to experience both the good and the bad, and be okay with feeling low every now and then. I'm not saying we should give in to our negative thoughts, not at all. That's where an outlet comes in. For me, it's writing, art, music, anything to express what's inside. It's a difficult line to walk, and it cannot be done alone. But, from my personal experience, it's better than walking without feeling anything.
Fun fact: the art for this story is an original, but based off of Picasso's The Blindman's Meal. If you look at Hyde's posture, as well as the details, I tried to mimic his style in the painting. This was a really fun piece to work on, and I am super proud of it.
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