CHAPTER ONE: CLEAR!

  COME ALIVE!

  The sun shines bright in the sky this summer afternoon, but as I stare up I see it growing darker. The air around me gets colder with every second that passes. My eyes are wide open, but they don't move. I see everything, I see red and blue flashing lights...and blood. I see so much blood. I'm in pain like nothing I've experienced before and I have no clue what's going on.

  People are standing with their phones

  out and others are rushing around like little ants. They're yelling. I can see their lips moving frantically, but I hear nothing. My heart slows down as the people fade, swallowed by the darkness quickly taking their place. I can't feel the pain in my body any-more.

  It takes a few moments for me to notice the dark figure hovering over me, still and silent. No one else seems to notice it but

  me. It's like one of those robbers, sneaking around at night trying to rob me of my stuff.

  "Jamal, it's time to go."

  The words come from the dark figure.

  The thing speaks to me as it glides closer. It bends to stare me in the eyes. I feel a cold glare coming from its empty eye sockets. I notice it has no mouth, but words still form.

  Its face is clouded by a dark purplish mist.

  "Wh...Who are y...ou?" I manage to

  choke out.

  "We must leave now." This Tales from the Crypt thing ignores my question. "There is no more time left." Its voice is cold and raspy but gives me a false sense of security. I know I shouldn't go, and yet I want to go. It's like this thing is putting me in a trance.

  "No... m-m...ore t.im...e?" I repeat,

  'cause I have no clue what Bones is talking about. Could he mean...

  It can't be my time to go. I don't want to die! I'm too young, I just made it to the legal drinking age. My life just started! There is no way this could be happening to me!

  Its hand unfurls, revealing dancing shadows. Skulls float lazily around the writhing shadows, leering from its outstretched palm. "Time to go, Jamal," It rasps one last time as its boney fingers slowly take a hold of my shirt...wait, no I'm naked, there is no shirt! It's my soul the figure grips and tries to pull from my body. My heart increases its tempo, and the dark figure seems to fade with every pump, taking the darkness with it. My soul slips through its skeletal grip like dust, and flows back into my still form.

  "Clear!" I hear the single-syllable word in the distance. My body lifts off the ground in response. With the leap, the dark figure vanishes completely.

  "He's pulling through. His heart is steady but he is in critical condition." The voice is a woman's, graceful but stern. It's beautiful. I feel at ease.

  All goes black.

  "Jamal!"

  I jerk awake and look around. Everywhere I look I see darkness. It takes me a moment to realize my eyes are still closed. But when I try to open them nothing happens.

  My muscles won’t move.

  "Oooooh!"

  My body is not responding to anything I tell it to do. I can't move! I'm trapped! What's happening to me?

  "JAMAL! Please wake up! Oh God please don't take my baby so soon." The voice is my mom's. She's crying and praying all at once.

  "It can't be his time! It just can't be!"

  There's another voice that sounds like

  my dad praying over me through sobs.

  "God please protect my son, give him the strength to come back to us. Open his eyes, Oh Lord." As he moans in prayer, my eyes pop open.

  This all feels like some kind of day-dream. There's something in my throat, in my veins, and my private parts. Needles and tubes, I think. But I don't know for sure. I can only guess. Keeping my eyes open is hard, the room fades in and out. Despite my issues with my eyes, I manage to scan the room.

  Don't cry, I think. Not for my sake, but for the sake of my family. My siblings are bunched in a corner. They don't notice I'm awake. They are praying in a circle, hands linked, heads bowed, mouths moving ur-gently. Then one looks up and meets my eyes.

  "He's awake!" my sister shouts, breaking the circle and rushing to my side. "We knew it wasn't over," she whispers, looking down at me with a smile as the others surround me.

  My mom gently touches my face, and I close my eyes. Her touch feels good. I don't know what is happening, but my family is here. I'm confused, upset, and uncomfortable but their presence gives me a sense of peace. I let their grateful sobs and cries of thanks wash over me.

  "He's awake?" A voice breaks through my family's collective murmurs of gratitude.

  I know for a fact I've heard the voice before today.

  The owner of the lovely voice is female, and though I can't see her, I can tell she is beautiful. She tells my family I'm doing better but it's too soon to say if I will recover fully. She speaks to my mom and dad as if they are old friends. They call her by her first name "Tonya" and are comfortable giving her intimate details.

  "You're going to be alright baby," my mom assures me. Her tone doesn't convince me she believes that herself. "You're my strong man now so keep on fighting for your

  The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  life." She kisses me on the cheek, and I watch her walk away.

  I want to tell her that I will be okay but as I open my mouth the words get caught in my throat and I begin to cough.

  Tonya rushes to my side. "Please Mr.

  Rollson don't try and speak, you have a tube in your throat. It is called intubation. Just rest some more." My eyes slide shut obedi-ently.

  I'm not sure how long it is before my

  eyes flutter open again.

  It's back!

  I'm so cold and so stiff. I can feel my heart start to slow down. It's watching me as cool and calm as ever. The dark figure hovers over me, patiently waiting. Like it is watching me, I watch it reach out a skeletal hand.

  I want to cry out when the back of it touches my cheek, freezing me down to my bones. I can't stand its chilled touch, and on top of that, I can't scream or yell...I can't even cry!

  The dark figure gazes down at me ex-pressionlessly as it rubs the side of my face.

  It leans in closely. "It's almost time, Jamal," it rasps. The air freezes where it meets its breath. Its hand lowers to my chest. "You will not escape death twice!" Breath leaves my

  chest as my soul, clutched in its hand, rips from my body.

  "Jamal Rollson, the young man rushed to the hospital early this week, was found badly..."

  My eyes pop open. I'm soaking in sweat and it takes me a moment to realize it was all a dream. My heart pounds a mile a minute, beating so hard I'm thinking it will rip from my chest at any second. I glance around the area to check for the dark figure. There is nothing and no one in the room but me.

  Apparently the TV is left on and the news plays. How convenient that I just so happen to wake up when they bring up a story about me.

  "Sources say Jamal..."

  I can't change the channel so I close my eyes and tune out the television until I fall back asleep.

  Three days pass. It's hard to keep my eyes open for long periods of time. Although my eyes are closed most of the time, I can hear everything that goes on around me. I can hear fine Doctor Tonya say I haven't made much improvement since I first opened my eyes. They've taken out my tube, but I still can't talk. I open my mouth, but my vocals won't respond the way I want.

  My loved ones drop by with flowers, get well cards and balloons. They whisper about what happened. They don't realize I'm mentally glaring at them. What they need to do is stop trying to come up with a story. It didn't happen to them. It happened to me, so it shouldn't matter.

  Four more days go by, officially making it a week. It's hard to focus. The painkillers in my body make it hard to stay awake. When I open my eyes to the sun bright in the sky, I see people sitting in my room or standing over me. But then my eyes close, and the next thing I know the sun is gone.

  Two people are in my room every night.

  One is my Mom, who kisses my forehead every five minutes. I love her, but she could give a brother some space every once in a while. I wouldn't be surprised if there is a puddle of saliva forming on my forehead. I don't know who the other person is. I just know that he or she is tall, almost supernaturally so. The person stands silently in the corner next to my bed every night. I want to ask my mom who it is, but I still can't speak.

  Two weeks of my life go by, and I'm still unable to talk. The good news is my body is finally healing. I can keep my eyes open for longer periods of time. The evidence of this is in Doctor Tonya allowing me to sit up to watch T.V. with my Mom. I watch her as she laughs at The Real House Wives of whatever.

  Not my first choice for entertainment, but I'll take it. I like listening to her laugh.

  With each passing night, this unknown person keeps getting closer to my bed. This person has been here so long without any interaction with anyone or anything around that I'm beginning to believe he or she is a figment of my imagination. My mom is completely oblivious to him or her. So, I pretty much dismiss them...or at least try. I tell myself it's just my brain playing tricks on me as a result of the beating I took.

  There is one thing that bothers me about this-this thing. I have nightmares every night since he (Mr. tall and skinny strikes me as male) showed up. I'm just glad my mom is here with me. Her presence puts me at ease, even if my imagination is running away from me.

  A month comes and goes. I am starting to feel like my old self. I still can't talk. I can smile and nod when my family comes to visit.

  Doctor Tonya says it's probably because I am in shock. I don't feel in shock. I'm able to sit up on my own.

  I learned a few days back that my ribs are broken, my right arm is shattered in two places, and I have bruises all over my body.

  I've gotten a lot better and the bruises are disappearing. My ribs are healing up just fine according to the doctor, and my arm is in a cast.

  Mr. Unknown is still around. I never see when he arrives or leaves. I learn to ignore him and pretend he is not there. But I can't ignore the same nightmare I'm having every night. Maybe I'm going crazy, because it looks as if the nightmares get more vivid each night he moves closer to my bedside.

  They wake me up in a cold sweat, and then I can't fall back to sleep afterward. I'm trying to figure out who or what is this dark figure in my dreams, and why does it feel like Mr. Unknown is grinning at me?

  Another week passes. Doctor Tonya keeps my loved ones up to date on my condition.

  "I'm confident that you can start doing more physical activity out of bed," Doctor Tonya says with a smile. "I definitely want your physical therapy to be focused on getting you ready to walk."

  Really? I think, but I still can't make a sound, so I smile real big and nod.

  Being in bed for a whole month is harder on my body than I thought. Even though my body is healing, my legs don't hold me up anymore. It's embarrassing when they tremble and I have to hold on to the nurse or the physical therapist for dear life. I'm only glad Doctor Tonya isn't here to see.

  When my siblings visit-like they do every weekend- they express their excitement at my progress. My older brother, James surveys the room. Then he walks lazily to stand in the spot Mr. Unknown was in last. I watch him, and we lock eyes.

  James, do you know something? I think but can't ask.

  He gives me a slow grin and starts talk-

  ing about Anime. Before he leaves, he puts

  his hands on my forehead and prays for me.

  ***

  "Who are you? What do you want from me?" This is what I want to say, but I can only glare bullets. Figment of my imagination or not, ol' boy is getting on my nerves. I can't count how many times I've had these night-mares. I can't wake up from them until the dark figure grabs for my soul. After a month I've figured out that when they start the Unknown person has arrived, and I don't like it.

  Mr. Unknown is about five feet away from my bedside. I know he is staring at me, even though his face isn't visible. I can't figure out why I can't see it when he is so close.

  I guess it could be the Van Helsing hat brim hovering over it, creating a shadow.

  I stare angrily up at him and a weird feeling passes over me. I know he's smiling.

  I keep staring until I get too tired to fight sleep.

  "I have good news, Jamal." Dr. Tonya walks in with a clipboard the next morning.

  "If you keep progressing, at this rate you'll be home in about two weeks!" She beams at me.

  Thank God! I don't want to spend one more night with this creepy dude. Even though I told myself he isn't really there, in the back of my head I know it isn't true.

  Not long after Dr. Tonya's visit, the nurse gives me pill after pill. I want to tell her I'm gonna have all the medicine I need once I escape this place and hit up the plug.

  With these nightmares going on I haven't given much thought to what happened to me or the people who put me here.

  To be honest, I'm doing my best not to think about it. I might not dwell on what happened, but I have to think about how to avoid getting caught up a second time. I just figure next time I need to be more careful.

  Leaving evidence is an amateur move. We got too careless. One thing I've learned from this whole mess is that I can't be sloppy with what we are doing.

  I know I'm sitting in a hospital bed, wordless, but I can't stop now. We've put a year's work into this, we're too close to call it quits just because I got hurt.

  I've been working on getting back in action. My youngest brother lets me use his phone when he and Dad visit. I'm trying to get the attention of a certain individual on Facebook. I send a few messages out and post a couple of pictures here and there, trying to get that person to visit me. It hasn't worked yet. I know my messages are being viewed, just not answered.

  I hope the person will come through and isn't hurt. Anyways I can't be too worried about them. I'll be going home soon and I still can't talk. It's frustrating but I'm dealing with it. Life is short and things could be a lot worse.