#kikican

This is the third time you’ve lost your sweater this week. 

It’s not really that big of a deal; after all, what is the point of slaving away in your office if you don’t make enough to buy more than one sweater? Besides, now and then that particular sweater will have to go through the tribulations of washing and drying before coming back to you again. It really isn’t that big of a deal.

But three times in a week? Really?

You know who the thief is. There is no one else living with you, except that creature under your bed. And it has admitted to wearing your clothes more than once while you slumbered in ignorance. Despite repeated offers to give it another sweater, it just has to have this particular sweater. Which is starting to tick you off, because that sweater is warm and worn and very cosy.

There is no point confronting it during the day though. It simply shrinks from you into a blob when you try. If you flush it out with a light, it flees faster than you can blink, the sleeves of your sweater flapping behind it like some bizzare butterfly. 

So on a chilly Friday night, you stay up in the dark waiting for it with arms folded.

You don’t have to wait long. It slinks out from under your bed, still wearing your sweater and looking somewhat guilty. You hold your hand out for your sweater. It clutches your sweater tighter.

“You don’t even feel cold.” You glared at it. “Give it back.”

After watching TV with you last week, it has learnt a new expression: the puppy eyes. Granted, a demonic creature with glowing yellow eyes and sharp teeth isn’t exactly prime material for making puppy eyes, but somehow it manages to. You aren’t moved.

“There are-” you point at your wardrobe. “-four other kinds of outer clothes that work the same as a sweater. You can have those. Give this back.”

“But I like this one.” It says in a small voice.

“Guess what, me too.” You countered. “And that is mine.”

“We can share…”

“Not this one.” 

You’ve learned that the creature under your bed can be very stubborn when it wants to. And right now, it is showing you how stubborn it can be. You pick up the flashlight threateningly. It looks hurt. 

“Why do you like this sweater more than the others?”

“Because it’s my favourite color, it’s soft and warm and very comfortable. Why do you like this one??”

“Because it smells like you.”

Oh, you certainly heard what it said. Your brain just didn’t really process the implications of that for several moments. Then the silence stretches as you try and put together a coherent reply to that statement. 

“You…like the way I smell?” To be sure, you sniffed at yourself. Your own smell is familiarity. Not expensive perfume. Hopefully not stinky either.

“I know your smell.”

Once again it reminds you of a dog. Does it maybe have a bloodhound nose? Are you about to discover you have a free and unlimited healthcare test kit at home? Who needs blood sugar tests or cancer marker tests when you have a bloodhound?

“And…you like this sweater very much.” The creature under your bed continues.

Its voice has the same tone when you mention your favourite book or TV show or friend. You did notice that it seems to be wary of things that you like, despite your reassurances that your preferences are harmless. Like it feels threatened by things that have your attention. 

“Well…it keeps me warm and cosy.”

“I can do that too.”

“I can’t wear you, can I??”

The creature thinks with a tilted head. “You can, if you want to…I can cover you like the sweater.”

Okay. Hold up. You give it the equivalent of that in a gesture. “Okay, fine. But I can’t wear you outside.”

Oh great, now you’ve made it sad. It looks at you like you just told it that it stinks. You throw your hands up in exasperation. “Come on. You don’t even like light.”

If the creature has ears, it would be drooping right now. It’s getting late. You want to sleep, not negotiate with a stubborn creature about the rights to use your sweater. And why are you even doing this when the sweater is yours??

“You-” you pointed at it. It turns its head away slightly. “-you wear it when I’m not wearing it. If you keep wearing it, I’ll just find another sweater to wear anyway. Then what? You’re going to wear that too?”

You don’t know how much logic applies to a creature like it, but it seems to be thinking your words through. Let it think. You slide yourself under the blanket, ready to put this behind you. 

A little while later, it creeps under the blanket with you, sans sweater. You narrow your eyes at it.

“I don’t need the sweater now.” It says in a small voice. “You’re here.”

It is indeed cozier than a sweater when it wraps around you. You sigh. Alright, fine. It’s not that big of a deal. 

From the game Welcome, Dear Human from Ronkad and Kikican. Do check it out!

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You square up to the creature in your room.

No, not the monstrous long limbed creature with bright yellow eyes staring at you from beside the bed. The other creature. That six legged creature about the size of your thumb, currently resting on your wardrobe door, its antenna waving gently. That creature. Also known as a cockroach or a fucker. Your flashlight doesn’t phase the fucker at all, unlike your long limbed friend.

“Are you afraid of bugs?” 

Your sleep paralysis demon is silent. What is it thinking about? It should have seen plenty of the fuckers, being in dark spaces and all.

“Bug.” It repeats slowly. “Not afraid.”

Good. Very, very good. Your roommate is showing to be a friend of value. “Can you pick it up and throw it out of the window?”

Those big yellow eyes remain on you, instead of the fucker. “Why?” It sounds perplexed. 

“Because I don’t like it. It scares me. It flies, by the way. You need to be fast.”

“It scares you.” It still sounds perplexed. Well, the feeling of fear must be foreign to an abyssal creature. Or perhaps it’s just wondering why you would be afraid of a creature at least ten times smaller than you.

You clutch the flashlight tightly as it moves towards the wardrobe. In a blink, your roommate has the cockroach pinched between two long fingers. It holds the offending cockroach up.

“Yes. Throw it out of the window please.”

No. What is it doing, coming near you with the fucker?! You recoil. “Hey! Don’t bring it near me-GO AWAY!”

Thousands of cockroaches spawn out of nowhere, climbing onto you and into your clothes. You flail around like a madman, trying to shake them off but they just keep coming. When you scream in reflex, they crawl into your mouth. The barbed legs of the cockroaches dig into your soft gums. Sour rises in your throat and pours out of your mouth. You can feel the cockroaches falling down your throat. 

Someone is screaming. It’s you.

And then the cockroaches are gone, replaced by the rough-smooth feeling of the sleep paralysis demon wrapped around you like a blanket of darkness. 

“No more bug!” Panic rings in its voice. “No more bug!”

You are shaking. There is some sort of warmth seeping through your clothes and soaking the bed, bringing about an unpleasantly sour and acrid smell. There isn’t a single cockroach in sight. Just you and the demon. 

Those big yellow eyes are watching you. “No more bug.” It pleads.

“...go away. Get out.” Your voice is scratchy. 

The demon’s eyes shrink. “No more bug.”

“GET OUT!”

The sheer volume of your shout makes the demon clap its hands over its ears. With your repeated shouts, it slides back under your bed like it never existed at all. Leaving you alone with the nasty smelling warmth clinging to you and a nightmare seared into your mind. 

By the time you clean up and calm down, it is dawn.

For a week after that night, you sleep with the lights on. Not just a flashlight, but the ceiling light. In fact, you make it a point to turn on every single ceiling light in the apartment. You also bought small night lights and put it everywhere that presents as a dark corner, from your wardrobe to the space under your bed.

It helps with the nightmares. 

One quiet night, you wake. Not because you dreamt of cockroaches crawling down your throat again. But because the electricity supply to the whole building failed. Some upstairs neighbour partying too hard and tripped the fuse. 

Your sleep paralysis demon is there before you are even fully awake. 

“Sorie.” It tries again, like someone trying to learn a new word. “Surie. Sorhy.”

There is something strange its big yellow eyes. It reminds you of a dog looking at their master, uncertain if it is allowed to eat yet. “No more bug. I threw them all out of the window. Every single one. There is no more bug in our home.”

It creeps towards you, its long limbs splayed on your bed. Your demon has reason to be hesitant. After all, your hand is on the flashlight, ready to shine it at something.  

“Sorry. Sorry. Don’t turn on the light, please…”

It puts a huge hand on your foot. Slow. Then another hand, and now it is perched on your bed. 

“I didn’t mean to upset you. I didn’t understand…”

Your sleep paralysis demon is warm and smells like fresh laundry tonight. It feels like a snug blanket wrapped around you, not too hot and not too cold. Just the perfect temperature for sleeping. 

“Sorry…”

The flashlight is left forgotten on the bedside table. Your muscles slowly relax. There are no more cockroaches tonight. Just you and your demon. 

Is it nibbling at your hair? You can’t tell.

Inspired from Welcome, Dear Human, the game made by Ronkad and Kikican. Play the game to make a new friend!

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There are many ways a roommate can make life harder.

It is not because your roommate is a long limbed entity with yellow glowing eyes. No, you are all for body positivity. Neither is it because said entity watches you shower. After all, it only watches without touching or leering or criticising your body hair. And it is certainly not because of the way it bypasses your locks so easily. It even helps you check if your door is locked at night.

No, what makes it hard is your roommate’s aversion to light and noise.

Forget photosynthesis. Humans are creatures that generally love light and noise, with the exception of a few that find solace in darkness or are forced to hide in it. Not just humans; most household friendly animals are diurnal, even if they dislike loud noises. Your roommate however despises anything from a flashlight to the sound of your horrendous farts. Its not like you can hold it in. And why should you, when this is your bed??

Still, you try to accommodate it. It is not their fault either. They are just built this way.

But just like how you can’t control your farts, there are many other things out of your control too. Take celebrations, for example. You are not one to love drunken shouting and laughing, but you can tolerate it a few times a year. Same goes to the fireworks that people burn their money on. You appreciate how they light up the night sky, as long as you’re far away enough that it does not hurt your ears or disturb your sleep.

Your roommate is incredibly sensitive to it though.

You are watching a brilliant shower of green light explode in the sky when you remember that the noise must be overwhelming for your roommate. Indeed, the space beside you is missing a long limbed entity. You close the window and draw the curtains. It helps for you, but perhaps not so much for your roommate, considering it remained out of sight still. 

Time to go hunting. You click the flashlight on. 

Under the bed? Nothing. Inside the bedside table? Air. The fireworks are still loud in your room even with the window closed, so best to go searching elsewhere. 

Something about a cold draft in the kitchen tells you it is unoccupied. You try your luck with the oven and the fridge. Nope. To be fair, your roommate is not very fond of those spaces anyway.

In the living room, you shine the flashlight under the sofa. Nein. Nor is it in the cupboard or under the TV console. Maybe the window here is helping the noise get in. It is time to move on. 

Nothing in your office either. Not under the shelf or your table or heaven forbid, in the spaces between your books. Your roommate is inhumanly flexible and you learnt that the hard way. 

The bathroom should be a good hiding spot. But the bathtub is empty and the space under the cupboard lonely. It must be serious if your roommate’s favourite space is discarded in favor for others. 

You don’t understand why your roommate likes the corner in your toilet. Maybe it is far enough from all the noise and lacking a window. Thankfully, you do a good job in keeping your toilet clean enough to hang out in. 

“Hey.”

The skin on your roommate’s back is rough-smooth and trembling. 

This is a perfect moment for you to wrap its favourite sweater (technically your sweater) around its head. Now your roommate looks like the wolf from little red riding hood pretending to be a grandma. Why does it look extra endearing now?

Your roommate grabs the sweater with its spindly fingers and wraps it tighter around its head. It looks surprised, like it just learnt a new function for its favourite item. Next time, you will introduce it to the wonderful invention called earplugs. Do regular earplugs fit in its misshapen ears though?

“Better?”

“...better.”

It stares miserably at the toilet door. “Why do the loud noises happen?”

“Humans like to celebrate with beautiful things. Like these things. Fireworks.”

“Fireworks?”

“Bright lights made from exploding gunpowder and colored chemicals. It will stop soon. Fireworks are pretty but expensive.”

You hope your sweater makes the fireworks nothing but distant booms to your roommate. It does not seem that way though, with how it remains curled on itself. 

Space and shadow distort as you sit next to your roommate. You squeeze into it, until its body reforms around you like a soft pillow. Your arm stretches hard around it in the best version of a hug you can offer. 

It lets you pet its head. Or maybe it just does not know what to make of it. 

After a bit more struggling, you manage to press its head onto your chest in an attempt to block its ears completely. Oh wait, maybe having its ear so close to your heartbeat was not the best idea. The last thing you should be offering right now is more noise. 

It does not let you pull away though. 

“Isn’t my heart noisy?”

“I like the sound. I’m used to it.”

Silence. You have taken to petting it with careful touches. Last thing you want is to accidentally jab it in its eyes again. Not a pleasant memory you want to revisit. Some things only need to be experienced once. 

“The fireworks will be over soon.”

You feel it nod. The silence becomes gentle, broken only with distant booms that get softer and sparser. On the bright side, your roommate makes a good pillow. Having such a comfortable environment also makes you sleepy, however.

“You’re getting sleepy.”

Your roommate is no longer trembling. It shifts and elongates, molding to the contours of your body in a way memory foam cannot compete with. What a useful material. Now you have a temporary but cosy bed that comes with glowing yellow eyes.

“You sleep. I’ll keep watch. I’ll put you back to bed later.”

Sounds good. You snuggle into your roommate. Nothing like a bed that comes with self heating, memory foam and personalised scent. 

Based on the game from Ronkad and @kikican. Please do check it out, it's super fun and I can't wait to see more of it! I'd like to write more about it but maybe in the future, so that people get to enjoy the game without spoilers first.

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It is staring at you. You can’t move.

Normally, the paralysis is more forgiving, allowing you to breathe or twitch or some kind of movement to signal you’re alive. Tonight it seems desperate to hold you down. Or maybe it is the staring causing all this. Those big yellow eyes that keeps you paralysed. 

“Hello.”

Okay. You were expecting it to screech or growl or hiss like a cat unwilling to have their nails trimmed. But then it talked. Actual human words. Appearances have deceived you, and you are certainly being judgemental. Though stereotypes were meant to be a self defense mechanism, so you will plead your case on that. 

“I was thinking…”

Oh, it thinks. Now isn’t really the time to satisfy your growing curiosity, but you don’t really have a choice. You can move your head and blink, and that’s it. Perhaps you should have taken up that Morse code class long ago. You’ll be able to blink sentences at it then. Though it might be a stretch to expect it to know Morse code. 

“...move your head for yes or no.”

So the creature has human-like intelligence! It means that you now have a roommate, albeit one that doesn’t pay rent and only comes out at night. Sounds like your trashy ex, except this creature is far more polite and way more horrifying. Still, maybe you should call an exorcist? A priest? Or a shrink? 

“...a bit more closely?

Now you’re treated to an ultra high definition view of those yellow eyes. What is it looking for? Edible parts? Scars and wrinkles? Or is it nearsighted? If you asked an optometrist to make glasses for it, how much would you have to pay? Before you can guess at some amount, the creature retreats.

“...other than counting sheep.”

Wow. You had an audience for all the sheep counting going on. Does it keep track of how far you’ve counted? Maybe you should ask it next time. You watch it lay its head down as it talks, before hopping onto your bed. It feels a bit heavy. Maybe you should ask it to get off. 

“...the sun is rising.”

You’d think your new roommate was a vampire, except it doesn’t have teeth. Or a name. Congratulations, you now have a date with your sleep paralysis demon scheduled for tomorrow night. The cost of it is sleep deprivation, but what is reward given without sacrifice? Perhaps it’s best you take a nap now, so that you are fresh for your date tomorrow night. 

It slides under your bed in farewell. Flexible, that thing. Your joints are envious. 

Dark Spaces

You’ve never really thought about the dark spaces. 

The last time you cleaned under the bed was after a certain yellow eyed entity emerged from there looking like a giant dust bunny. That was also the day you found out that it didn’t care about the dust, as long as it could stay in the dark. Something about the sight of a moving dust bunny made you decide then that it was time to clean. After all, your roommate really likes dark spaces and you feel a smidge of responsibility for it.

So when you crawled into the space under the bathroom cupboards before lunch, there was no one else to blame for the skittering spiders and dead bugs. And half a cockroach wing.

There was no demon. Just you. And the sadness.

Time flows differently in the dark. It could only be measured by how much body warmth you lost to the cold tiles. How the spiders scuttle from the north to the south. How your stomach rumbled for food and slowly went quiet. The sadness kept growing, until it leaked out of your eyes and nose.

You barely had time to wet one square tile before you hear rapid shuffling.

Physics doesn’t apply to a creature made out of demonic flesh and yellow eyes. It squeezes into the space with you, flowing around you in a way that only it can. It is not alone; along with it comes the faint tang of something burnt. For a moment, you wonder if it had been sneaking into your leftovers again.

“You’re crying.” 

There is no space for you to raise an arm and wipe your face, but the thing rubbing your face like a broken wiper has seen to that. You can’t really avoid the question. Not when it sticks glowing yellow eyes right in front of you.

“I’m fine.” Your voice is stuffy. It could do with more crying. 

“No.” It sounds perplexed. “Sometimes you cry in your sleep too. When you’re having nightmares.”

“It’s daytime.”

“Yes. And you…you’re in my space.”

On another day, you will talk to it about what is yours and what is its. If you paid rent for the whole apartment, that includes the dark spaces, even if you don’t clean them. But today is not the day so you focus on trying not to cry. 

Your sleep paralyis demon wraps more tightly around you. “How can I help? What can I do?”

“Nothing. Nothing. I’m just sad. Just sad. Yeah?”

Just one of those days. Where the body feels far too heavy and living is a burden. When the only thing to do is to lie down so that the world can pass by without you. It is one of those days where the body moves but the spirit doesn’t. 

Silence. Maybe the demon has had enough of you too. Maybe it would be better if-

“If you want a dark space, I…can be your dark space.”

What does that even mean? Then the bathroom door closes. You are slid out from under the cupboard like luggage on a conveyer belt into the darkness of the bathroom. Long spindly fingers pick something off your arm. Yellow eyes blink slowly at you once. 

You feel around for cold tile, but all you can feel is squishy warmth.

“Dark space. For you.”

So it wasn’t going to leave? It was making space for you? You feel the spindly fingers again on your face, still acting like broken wipers. 

“Is it not good?” It sounds alarmed. “You’re still crying.”

Words are not enough, so you grip onto the squishy warmth as hard as you can, pressing yourself into it. Your tears are absorbed into the mysterious flesh. That’s when you smell the faint tang of something burnt again.

“Why do you smell like burnt meat?” You blubbered out.

The pause is long enough to break your crying spiel. The yellow eyes looking down at you glow with discomfort.

“There was light…in the way. While I came to find you.”

Understanding sinks in. You try to find the source of the smell, but it doesn’t let you. You burst out into ugly crying. 

“Don’t cry.” The alarm is back in its voice. “Or…cry, if that makes you feel better.”

“You’re an idiot.” You sobbed. “You stupid idiot.”

You forget that it feels what you feel, so you are surprised by it patting your back in an imitation of what you once showed it. It rests its chin on the top of your head. You can feel a steady heartbeat behind you.

“You should come to me next time. I make a better dark space than my spaces.”

Of course. What better place than an entity that can wrap around you entirely? You rest your head on some part of it. It responds in gentle ripples. 

No more hiding in dusty dark places.

Hiyaaa!