Dreamt Of Paranoia by Jose Arguello

Like a cubic painting hanging on the obscure corner of a wall, spectating as an omnipotent being, yet, unable to interact with the occurrence below. I was watching, waiting, scared. I knew what was above. It was watching, waiting, walking through the topmost of the narrow walls. He was not alone. A child; a scared little child lead the demon, holding his sweaty hand with the tight grip of titans.

With the absence of traits, but a lipless mouth, the pale skin covering his body gave me goosebumps upon first sight. Still, the child, unaware of the monstrosity that possessed his conscious self, kept walking with a deer-like step. With skinny arms and floppy flesh, the grotesque emancipation of hell walked along the wall, legs in front, and longer arms behind; this traipse seemed to properly support its body.

On one side a living room, on the other a dark unending corridor; as it walked it seemed to have had made up its mind to proceed into the dark. With this, the child continued to walk, leading the creature into the eternal darkness of the passage.

A trip of the young one’s feet marked the end of it all, the end of the short yet unbelievable suspense midnight experience. With this trip, the crying child fell upon the floor, hitting his head and ending with an unconscious coma. With the fall of its guide, the creature met the same fate, falling into the wrong direction, the opposite of the nightmare; into the light of the living room. As the pale, grotesque humanoid hit the floor, an old woman who was enjoying the pleasure of living became aware of the effect of the occurrence above.

There were no emotions coming from me, the spectator, other than the melancholic scent of the scenery and my desperate cries and hopes of help. It all became silent before another unfortunate event seceded. The old maiden lost hope and hope is the last that one should lose. Hope is the fountain of youth, the sprout of life, it holds power to overcome obstacles and fear, yet, if lost, ends it all. Her gears began grinding backwards and her unconscious self took over. I knew all of this, as I was watching, waiting with my desperate leak of depressive emotions. She ran towards the grotesque monstrosity with her mind set on the unattainable objective of defeating it. No words, no thoughts, it all stopped before the outcome became aware of the situation. The demonic being felt terror--no, shock. With the shock of the unexpected outcome, it raged by jumping and launching its arms and legs in a repetitive motion all around him. Like a shocked monkey, his movements kept going, in the same repetitive, yet un-harmonic motion. The woman grabbed its arms, and for a moment it seemed she had the upper hand.

This did not last. in the blink of an eye, the grotesque emancipation of hell, a pale demonic humanoid impaled the woman with his class-less hand.

If she could still be called a woman, that is. she was no longer alive from a realistic perspective. Organs, complete systems of human understanding lay scattered in the floor of the room. Like a flood, blood waved and dispersed around each piece of flesh.

One by one, the pieces were picked. Lifting the murder arm, between its fingers as a plate, and finally taking it into his lip-less mouth, “he” ate all that remained. Soon, before it all ended, before my conscious self could escape the nightmare, the light went out, and it was not there anymore. Like curtains casing an event, it all became part of an unsatisfied memory, like something was missing. Someone was missing.

Finally, I became aware. A child was missing, a necessity that could not be omitted. The childish mind of the misplaced guide went astray, and another one became the only possibility of continuity. Be aware, as it roams the night, as you hide and laugh, it may be there, in the obscure corner of the room; a room filled with possibilities, but all causes lead to the same effect.

It may not be omitted.