#upupandawake

[Written by Reddit user UpUpAndAwake]..

It all started when Matt, Ben, and I saw the thing in the woods.

I dreamt that night, of the severed head of a beautiful woman. The head swayed like a pendulum as it hung by its hair. Her lips were sewn shut, just like they’d been when I saw the head in the woods outside Ben’s house. That must’ve been some sort of hallucination though, it couldn’t’ve been real.

In my dream, the woman’s face twitched, her jaw muscles spasming. She was trying to open her mouth. The stitches strained, finally tearing through flesh as the mouth gaped wide. I winced, but couldn’t look away. Through mangled flesh, the woman began to speak.

I woke up.

The first thing I noticed was the massive hangover. My head ached, and my throat was parched. I didn’t even remember getting home, but I was in my own bed so I must’ve gotten here somehow. As much as I tried, I couldn’t even remember saying bye to Ben and Matt. I hadn’t blacked out like this since college, and I really didn’t miss the experience.

Drenched in sweat, I groaned as I looked at my clock. I’d slept in, and the timing couldn’t be worse. Today was my job interview, the job interview, and I had to be there at ten. I studied myself in the mirror. I looked like shit: rumpled hair, dark circles under my eyes, and I was covered in a sheen of sweat.

Pull yourself together, Liz.

The shower calmed me down, but it brought back memories of that man, that thing, in the woods. Last night had been some weird shit, that was for sure, but there had to be a rational explanation. Some sort of mass hallucination or something. I couldn’t let it distract me, not when I was interviewing for a job at CCNB, the local news station. Sure, it was a reception position, not anything directly related to journalism, but it was a foot in the door. Who knows, maybe someday I’d make it out of Ivy Hill.

I yelled bye to my mom and dad as I ran out the door, only returning when I remembered I needed two copies of my resume. I put on my make up at stoplights and reached the station with minutes to spare. Whew.

“Why do you want to work at CCNB?”

The interviewer, a rail-thin blonde woman who’d introduced herself as Lori, peered down at me. Her chair was positioned much higher than mine, which I knew to be a power trick in interviews, but it disconcerted me nonetheless.

“I—I, uh,” I stammered. “I just really love the media industry. It’s such an important part of our society; it’s what spreads information throughout the world in seconds. I want to be a part of that, know that what I’m doing is reaching and helping countless people.”

I cleared my throat nervously and added, “Even if it’s in reception, I know every role counts.”

“Well, you know we only broadcast in three districts. We’re not exactly reaching the whole world here.” Lori smiled though, and I grinned in return.

“So,” she continued, glancing down at my resume. “You don’t have much prior experience, is that right?”

I glanced down at my own copy, ready to defend my lack of job experience. I hadn’t worked or interned during college, but I excelled in school so I was confident I could spin that into a positive. When I looked down at my resume, however, my breath caught in my throat.

Written under the “Work Experience” heading was writing I hadn’t seen before, sentences I’d never typed.

seconds she doesn’t deserve your mercy / in one hour and four minutes and two seconds one foot deeper and they’ll never find him / in thirty-two seconds you won’t know unless you pull the trigger / in five hours and forty-eight minutes and eleven seconds you’ll be happier once he’s gone / in three minutes and

“Oh!” I gasped. My face flushed and I wondered how I would explain this to Lori. How could I explain this to myself, for that matter? It must be some kind of joke, I bet Matt had snuck onto my computer while I wasn’t looking and typed this out. I’d give him hell when I saw him again, it was seriously crossing the line typing this sick shit up on my resume.

“I am so sorry,” I gushed. “I don’t know how that got there, my friends are real jerks sometimes.”

I reached across the desk to pull the resume from Lori’s hands, and stopped short when I saw her paper. There under “Work Experience” was just one bullet point highlighting my summer retail job two years ago. No strange, twisted writing.

I froze, still leaning halfway over the desk, and glanced back at my own copy. It looked normal, no trace of the writing I’d just seen. What’s going on? Lori was staring at me in confusion. I felt light-headed, and got up from my seat.

“I’m so sorry, I have to go.”

I hurried out of the building, debating whether or not I should seek out a therapist or just figure out what bars were open this early. Once at my car, I kicked at the door in frustration, leaving a noticeable dent.

“Shit!”

I called Ben as soon as I got home. Something strange was going on, and I needed someone reasonable to talk to. Plus, he was there last night, he saw what I saw.

Ben picked up on the second ring. “Hello?”

“Hey, it’s Liz. Can you talk?”

“Yeah, sure.” He sounded distant.

I took a deep breath. “I want to talk about last night, about that thing we saw in the woods. That man, or whatever it was.”

“Liz, can you speak up?”

“I want to talk about that man we saw last night,” I said louder. “In the woods outside your house.”

Ben was silent for a moment, before he said, “Do you hear that? The music…”

Another second of silence, and then the dial tone. Ben had hung up on me. I cursed, and then paced the living room, trying to figure out what to do next. I’d just screwed up the only job interview I’d lined up in months, and even worse, I was seeing things. The TV was on in the next room, distracting me from my crisis, and I picked up the remote to turn it down.

It was an older sitcom, one I used to watch a few years back, and as I began to lower the volume, something happened that made my blood run cold.

The actor onscreen, the current love interest of the season, turned and looked straight at the camera. Straight at me. In a flat monotone, he opened his mouth and spoke.

“In eight minutes and fifty-four seconds she will beg you to do it. In twenty-seven seconds the guilt will pass. In three hours and eighteen seconds no one will be watching. In nineteen minutes and twenty-two seconds the school—“

I shut off the TV. My whole body was shaking, and I felt like I might throw up. Sinking to my knees, I held my head in my hands for a minute.

The front door opened, and I heard happy chatter as my parents walked in the house. I hadn’t realized they were out, and I quickly got to my feet, trying to wipe the fear off my face.

“How’d the interview go, sweetie?” Mom said when she saw me.

There was no point in hiding it. “Bad, really bad.”

“I’m so sorry to hear that, honey,” Mom said sincerely. “I’ll admit, I thought you got the job and were out all night celebrating!”

What?

My mother continued, sounding a little annoyed now: “But whatever the reason, I wish you’d tell me when you won’t be home. And I mean actually telling me, not just drunk dialing me.”

She headed into the kitchen now where Dad was unpacking groceries. I realized my mouth was agape. What was she talking about? I’d just gotten home from the interview not even a half hour ago. And what did she mean by ‘drunk dialing’? My phone was lying on the table, so I picked it up.

To my utter shock, my phone said I had 73 unread texts and 24 missed calls. Then I saw the date, and my stomach dropped. My phone said it was Thursday, yet I’d left for the interview on Wednesday. I was missing a whole day.

Hesitantly, I opened the first unread text. It was from a girl I hadn’t spoken to since college. She wrote: WTF ARE YOU ON ABOUT? STOP CALLING ME! The next text was from a guy I dated back in high school: DID YOUR PHONE GET STOLEN? SOMEONE LEFT ME A WEIRD MESSAGE. The next, I realized with embarrassment, was from my uncle: LIZ, I HOPE YOU DON’T THINK THIS IS FUNNY. I KNOW YOU’RE A SMART GIRL, PLEASE STOP THIS BEHAVIOR. The texts went on. I didn’t even want to listen to the voicemails.

Pulling up my call history, I realized in horror that I’d called every single person in my contacts multiple times during my missing day. I felt numb. Thinking back to my resume, and the actor on TV, I had a pretty good idea of what kind of things I’d been saying over the phone.

I didn’t know what to do, but I suddenly felt exhausted and went up to my room. Even though it only made me feel worse, I rifled through my phone again, feeling more and more nauseated as I looked at all the people I’d called: friends, family, networking connections and one night stands. One number stood out, however. It wasn’t in my contacts, it had been typed in on the keypad and the call went on for almost ten minutes. I puzzled over it, but couldn’t bring myself to look up the number online and see whose it was. I needed sleep.

I was standing in the middle of a crowded mall. I thought I was dreaming at first, but it soon became clear that I was very much awake. How did I get here? The last thing I remembered, I was lying in bed, about to fall asleep. I was holding my phone…those strange calls…

I patted my pockets and found my phone. With sudden dread, I checked the date. It was Friday afternoon. I’d lost more time. No new messages, luckily. Re-pocketing my phone, I spun in a circle, trying to get my bearings. I’d been to the mall plenty of times before, but the sudden change of scenery was disorienting. I spied a directory nearby, and went to look at the map.

I located the “You Are Here” sign quickly, but that wasn’t the only thing that drew my attention. An odd block of text was crammed into the store listings, and without thinking, I read the first line aloud.

“In two hours and four minutes and one second she won’t hear you coming.”

It was almost imperceptible. If I hadn’t been fearfully alert already, I would have missed it. But, as I spoke those words, the man next to me straightened up ever so slightly. I saw his face just before he walked away with a determined spring in his step: He was smiling. Because of what I said?

Somehow, I knew the answer to that question was yes. Whatever I’d said had triggered something in him. I felt like I should be afraid, but instead I felt alive. Empowering. I wanted to try it again.

It didn’t take long for the words to come to me again. This time, they were written on a coupon an older woman handed to me as I passed the pretzel stand. I read the words loud and clear.

“In eighteen minutes and forty-three seconds you just need to cut a little deeper this time.”

No one around me seemed to take notice, except for one woman. She was sitting on the bench reading a book, and as soon as the words left my mouth, she raised her head, a small smile playing on her lips. I watched in wonder as she stood up right then and disappeared into the crowd.

I wanted more.

The words appeared in the most trivial places: the sign outside Macy’s, an announcement on the loudspeaker that only I could hear, a man’s novelty t-shirt. And each time I spoke, it triggered something in someone nearby. A lingering thought in the back of my mind made me wonder if I should care what might result from these words, but the truth is, what I was doing just felt right. So right.

I was ready to call it a day, when my phone rang. My pulse quickened when I saw the number: it was the unfamiliar number I’d called during my missing time. For the first time in hours, I felt a rush of fear. I wondered if I should ignore it, but I had to know who it was.

I answered the phone. “Hello?”

A crackle of static, and then:

“Hi Liz, it’s Meredith. We spoke the other day?”

I frowned, but simply said, “Yes?”

“I was wondering if you’d like to come in for an interview next week,” she said, more statement than question. “You know, it’s rare for a national news station to hire someone with so little experience, but I have to say, you really impressed us over the phone.”

National news station?

“So what do you say? Interested in joining the number one news team in the world?”

I was glad she couldn’t see me, because I’d broken into a face-splitting grin. Something new, something dark, was welling up inside me, wanting me to speak for it. It was begging for an outlet, and I was going to get just that. Sure, I could speak to the people around me now, tell them how to unlock their darkest desire. But soon, very soon…

I will speak to the entire world.