Woke up today to the remnants of a strange dream. Just ghostly tendrils of the memory remain. A large red poker table; an oversized chair and me in a strange dress. I quickly dismiss it as the result of bad sushi from dinner but the dream refuses to fade away as dreams should. More details come back to me: being surround by grotesquely masked faces; disturbing semblances of animals and people. I shudder it away and get up from bed. Sunday, I always found the day quite strange like life goes on pause. I never manage to get much done nor do I put much effort to any task.The alarm clock bleats pitifully from the floor across the room. Sleepily I realise that I must have thrown it there. I groan and bury myself under the covers attempting to ignore it. Wait. Why is my alarm ringing on a Sunday? Why am I getting a feeling of deja vu? Didn’t I just wake up? From the weird dream. It was even hazier now as I tried to remember it. I must have gone back to sleep after first waking up. I pick up my cell and am shocked to see it really is Monday. Is this a joke? I think as I get up to turn on the TV. Where did a whole day’s worth of memories go? The TV flickers on and I anxiously put the news on and it hits me like ton of bricks: it’s really Monday and I don’t remember anything from yesterday. I concentrate and try my hardest to recall anything from the day before. But it’s completely blank. Fuck. Where did an entire day go? I think again.Trying not to panic I take a deep breath as I shakily walk around my apartment and decide to continue my day as normal and hope for the best.
I decide to tidy up the apartment which looks like everything besides immaculate. How did the apartment get so untidy anyways? I lazily bend down to pick up a black scarf that was right in front of me and then…wait! What were the contents of my wardrobe doing here anyway? I decide to scan the whole apartment from my point of standing and oh my…it looked horrible. What happened yesterday?I force myself into recalling the previous day’s events. A sharp pain jolts through my head and I quickly dismiss the idea. Perhaps it was a normal day like any other day and I was worrying over nothing. I shudder at the thought that I might have done something embarrassing as I try to recall the details from the mysterious day. Why can’t I possibly remember anything? I shiver as a cold sweat trickles down my face. I aim to wipe off the sweat with the back of my free hand and dear Lord; I feel the sharp pain in my head again. As I look down at my hand, I realize it is covered with blood. Dark red oozy blood! I stagger across the apartment as I make an attempt for the mirror in my bedroom, scurrying my way across thishelterskelter. I scrutinize the bloody mush embedded in my head wondering how and why I got wounded. Not only was I breathing at an abnormal rate, but it took me a good amount of time to realize my jaw was dropped and I was in awe. I was a total wreck. What the heck happened last night?!
Then it hit me. I realized that it’s not just the wound in my head that I was worried about. I was staring a total wreck! I could hardly identify myself. I looked…shattered; that is the most suitable word I could use to describe what I looked like. Oh no! Something else hit me! I remembered that I wasn’t dressed up in this attire last night. What I was staring at was someone wearing an oversized grey jumper. I don’t own any jumpers so this could definitely not be mine. I recalled wearing formal attire last night. I couldn’t be wrong about that. I couldn’t possibly be uncertain about this jumper; it wasn’t mine. Who else was in here with me? I might not remember a great chunk of detail about yesterday, but I sure as hell that I wasn’t dressed like thisI start getting worried and question my sudden urge earlier to switch on the television. Why did I go straight to the television? What did I expect to hear or see? More blood oozes from out of my head, drenching the jumper I was wearing.Standing in front of the mirror and trying to recall the events of what I’m beginning to suspect was a ‘horrendous’ night, I decide it would be best if I looked everywhere around the apartment. I had to gather cues to solve yesterday’s puzzle. I take a step away from the mirror and make a dash toward the toilet. As I touch the door knob, I stiffen; my hands feeling like they weighed a thousand pounds or more. My nerves were killing me and at this point in time, I wish that whatever happened last night needed to be something trivial. I take a deep breath as I slowly push open the door, hoping that there’s nothing but emptiness on the other side. I cross my fingers as the door vehemently sways inward while I stand on its other side nervously clasping my hands around myself.The door is completely set back and I’m standing there…in the middle of my room…unable to move or do anything. It feels like my heart has stopped pumping blood into my veins. I hear nothing but silence; silence that feels unwelcoming. I stare a while longer at the disaster that was seeing in front of me. In this bare silence, I hear myself letting out the most horrifying shriek that I’ve ever heard in my life!
The toilet is covered in blood all over. I begin to hyperventilate. It’s more than I can handle. What happened last night? What happened last night? These questions kept recurring in my mind as if I was hoping my subconscious would robotically provide me with answers I desperately needed. I am still staring at the grotesque splash of blood in front of me, unable to move or process how it reached here. In my room. In my toilet. What is going on? I begin to feel nauseated by the smell of blood. And frightened. I suddenly gather my senses as if slapped back to consciousness.
I make up my mind…there is no way I am going to stay in my apartment for another minute. Leaving the toilet door open, I begin ransacking through the pile of clothes near my bed to get clean clothes and just leave the room. I am deterred while ransacking my clothes because I never ever had piles of clothes scattered in my room. I brush that thought away and I find myself a pair of jeans and a white T-shirt. I put them on, run my fingers quickly through my hair and head for the door. I look at myself in the mirror on my way out. I still look a mess. I look as if I have spent a day in a scary movie. I grab my car keys from the dressing table and walk out. I shut the door and run through my living room, not even bothering to look around straight to my car, not noticing anything except that it is a sunny Monday. How could I have missed an entire day?
I get into my car and start the engine. I look around the car to see if there are any traces of last night. I am surprised to find that there’s no blood anywhere or anything strange. But wait!!There is an old piece of paper at the backseat. I have never seen this kind of paper before. I pick it up. There is something written on the other side. I turn it over and gasp when I read:
I swallow hard. But at the same time I feel that I could find some answers there. 33 Street isn’t far from where I live. So I start my car and drive on. I ignore the clamor in the city and take the curve that leads to 33 street. What could have happened there? As I neared 33 street, something bizarre begin to happen. It is raining heavily. It is a sunny day. I couldn’t understand what is going on. The street looks unusually dark and lonely. There is nothing around it. There are no stores, no houses, no cars…nothing! I shudder, but couldn’t figure out whether it is from the sudden chilliness surrounding me or fear. I stop the car when I come across a side board. Something is written on it in a weary black ink:
WELCOME TO THE HOUSE ON 33 STREET
The sight of it makes me weak at the knees. It sounds like a death notice. Uneasiness creeps all over me. In spite of these thoughts, I am tempted to find out more about this house. I feel like I am summoned or like a gravitational force is urging me to enter. I get down from my car and decide to walk in. The huge iron gate that keeps the house from the outside world is opened. I slide in through the gate and find myself staring at the ghastly huge grey house. The house is masked by the fog from the rainy weather and sheltered by huge thick trees that outgrow the house. Withered creepers grow over the house in all directions. The house is so dark. All but one window is illuminated by a faint candlelight.
I take the few steps that lead to the front porch and open the front door and I step in.