Sea of Nightmares

Прожорливый (gluttonous)

The doorbell rang relentlessly while James struggled to sit up on the couch, still trying to force himself awake from his regularly scheduled afternoon nap. Having successfully achieved a deep sleep, his efforts to try to stand quickly could be compared to a newborn calf standing for the first time. As the doorbell continuously rang, with only a millisecond of space between each ring, James let out a shaky leg stretch, almost falling back on the couch, and headed to the front door. He let out a yawn so loud his wife Janet looked up from her book. She had been reading in a reclined leather chair opposite the couch James had fallen asleep on. He let out another yawn; his sleep would not be trounced. “Alright, alright! I’m here. Hold on one second!” Barked a groggy James. He then whispered, “What the hell?… Someone better be dying out there.” James rolled his eyes and then reached for the doorknob. As his hand touched the knob, some type of universal feeling of dread rushed through his body. When James was a child, he would hang upside down on the monkey bars as long as possible until he didn’t feel well. This is how he felt, but it wasn’t blood rushing to his head… it was something else entirely.

As if following the dread, a feeling of panic nearly knocked the wind out of him. James felt like he was tackled in the middle of the street at night for no reason. He was so confused about these new feelings. If he’d been more intuitive, he would have understood that universal forces were begging him not to open that door, but he did.

As he turned the doorknob, he could’ve sworn he heard heavy breathing entangled with excitement and the sound of large bare flat feet slapping away from his door and down his paved driveway. The door opened, and autumn afternoon sunlight seeped into his house from the crack. He saw no one. Puzzled and pissed off, he was just about to shut the door when he heard a soft coo. His heart dropped as his eyes looked down. A beautiful peach-colored baby stared back at James, carefully wrapped in a blue blanket that was clearly soiled.

A baby boy. His eyes… oh his eyes! They were like two pods of infinite colors. A universe of colors continually swirling and changing, almost as if they couldn’t make up their mind on which color they wanted to be. A slight fall breeze blew the child’s scent closer to James’ face. He had smelled nothing like it before but was filled with a sense to protect the child. It was as if the child emitted some kind of nurturing pheromones; all James now wanted to do was love, care for, defend, and hold the child. Hold… yes hold; James, realizing the enchanting little angel was still on the floor, quickly scooped him up into his arms. The child let out a sigh. A type of sigh that could be interpreted as a sigh of relief. The kind of sigh one might breathe after coming home from a long night in constricting formal wear and changing into slippers and pajamas.

James held the child to him as tight as he could without hurting the little thing. A note fell from the child. It must’ve been wrapped in the blanket. The letter read in poor English:

Baby,

This yours. I see sick. Cent Cant take care cair of it anymore. Raise strong, please.

ur

urs

yors

Yours Truly,

                   Old Love

James was now deep in thought as he clutched the baby and the note. He stepped inside with a puzzled look on his face. His wife, now noticing something in his arms, dropped her mouth as if her jaws gave out.  She stared in awe as she watched a little hand wave from the blanket and try to grab James’s chin. “Um, I- er- I. Uh.” Stuttered James. Janet, visibly shaken, snatched the note from James and read it. Janet let out a long, low, and defeated sigh as she whispered the name, “Emily.” James nodded.

“It’s the only one that makes sense.” he mumbled, “She always talked about her fear of cancer. I mean… you know… her mother, brother, and then her father? All taken out by it. different kinds too.” He looked at Janet and then quickly looked at his feet as soon as their eyes made contact. “M- may- maybe she’s got some weird skin cancer that deformed her. Maybe that’s why she ran instead of talking to me. She knew she was dying and needed to see that her… our child was safely taken care of.” Said James. He looked at the baby still in his arms, now sleeping peacefully, and couldn’t remember seeing anything so beautiful in all his life. The face structure seemed to change a little thought James. The boy’s jaw structure was now more square… like James’s. James tried to rationalize it in his head. Perhaps he didn’t notice how similar their facial features were because it was just some baby on a step, but now he knew and could feel: This is my son. James’s eyes welled with tears, “Why didn’t she tell me?” He questioned. Janet paced back and forth a little and stopped abruptly. “I love you,” she assured herself, “James! I love you. Nothing will change that. I know Emily was a few months before me. I can do the math. I know you would never cheat on me. I can also acknowledge that we were married way too soon, but I’ve never regretted that for a day! This child is a beautiful edition of you that I will love just as much as I love you.” James smiled at Janet as tears ran down his face. Too choked up to actually speak, he mouthed the words: I love you too.  After a small moment of silence between the two and the child, Janet asked, “Ca- can I hold him?” James nodded as he handed her his newfound love child. As he pulled the child away from himself, he noticed a searing pain in his chest. He pulled his shirt forward and peered inside to reveal purplish and greenish veins all congregating by his right nipple where the child had laid its head. There was an open flesh wound oozing blood where the weird-colored veins met. He thought he slept too long or that something on the blanket gave him a very harsh allergic reaction. His next thought was to get the baby out of it immediately, just in case they shared the same allergy. Janet smiled and cooed at her new stepson. “Oh James, he is beautiful,” she gasped out almost as if she was running out of air, “and his eyes!” James smiled, remembering the little color universes staring back at him. “Blue!” she said, “Bright blue. Piercing blue like yours, honey.”

There was a lot James was unsure about this afternoon, but he was a hundred percent sure that the child’s eyes were not blue. Maybe they change with the light. I have a cousin whose eyes go from hazel to green depending on the season… he thought to himself. “Hopefully, Emily will come back so we can get the custody papers started. I’ll leave her a note on the door since she doesn’t want to see us in person.” Stated James, “She may be too ashamed…” He wondered as he taped a Post-It-note to the door so it wouldn’t blow away.

If he were honest with himself, he would acknowledge none of his and Emily’s love child scenarios made sense. They were still good friends and checked in on each other once a month. In fact, James video-chatted with Emily just last month and saw nothing amidst. Something was clouding his judgment. James had a tremendous headache brewing, and thinking straight was unattainable.  

He took a moment to stare out at the sky as the sun was covered by clouds. His transition lens glasses adjusted as he turned to go back in, but before he could close the door, something caught his attention. It was Emily holding the baby.

She now had ruby-red tears coming down her face. An abnormal amount of blood cascaded from her nose. Still bleeding, Janet sobbed and choked out, “I don’t think h-he likes me.” James ran to her as the door shut. Then there were screams. Darker than blood-curdling screams. These screams create two distinct responses: running towards the screams to aid the victims in any way you can or running as far away as possible. The type of run where you don’t know how much pain your legs are in or how much your lungs burn until you’ve stopped. Unfortunately, no one came to the aid of James and Janet.

It is now midnight; the screams of James and Janet have subsided. The front door of the house slowly opens. Out steps, a dapper well dressed James. Something slightly different with his face. He closed the door, locked it, and put the key in the inside pocket of his coat. As he walked down the driveway, he mumbled to himself, “You’re right, I didn’t like you.” Down the suburban sidewalk, he went with a stride and a whistle.