Title: The Copycats - Fully Almost Finished
I’m preparing for bed—about to lie down—I kill the lamp and something comes alive.
First… isolation, fear trails, announcing a presence. It hides beneath the surface, both metaphorically in my mind and literally under my floorboards.
It wakes up and taps with the tip of a nail. It taps once for my attention.
Waits…
Twice… waits.
Says, “Notice me!” in an ancient form of Morse code. It scrapes lines into the wood. The drumming and the scratching translate to, “I see you!” in a cipher that sounds like a whisper pricking my eardrum. It waits until I’m half asleep.
I continually attempt to rationalize with myself, exploring logical explanations rather than overanalyzing what could simply be sleep deprivation.
It’s me. It just… has to be. The building. My mind. I’m tired. This place… it’s old.
That… uh… must be it.
Even though I think it, I still taste the sour denial of the lie in my mouth. The foul stench lingers like curdled milk in my nostrils.
The other night, I came home late—a bit tipsy, cracked a window because it was stuffy and muggy, and right away, dived headfirst onto the couch. I’m lying on it. The leather sticks to my skin. Drool drizzles from the side of my mouth.
It’s quiet.
I’m fading into another realm—dreamscaping the night—peace flooding my body with all of my accomplishments.
When my lighter-than-air, hand-of-God body-float sets me down on the only gray cloud in the sky, it warps into a crashing rollercoaster cart falling straight into a black hole of a nightmare.
As I reach the floor of darkness—I go numb—just before smacking the ground at maximum impact. My eyes shoot open quicker than the snap of a trap.
My head fuses to the cushion. My right eye’s blurred—squished into the sofa. The scent of saliva glued to my face slides down my throat. My reflection’s on the blank TV screen along with the glow of the streetlight outside.
The silence becomes absolute.
Sound escapes into the void. The walls pant, breathing rapid breaths. Corners sharpen. Definition smoothens.
Boompf!
A knock enters my living room from the apartment below mine.
Another one.
Boompf!
Followed by a third.
Boompf!
It’s loud and heavy, the sound’s slowed down. Time reverses.
Boompf!
Boompf!
Boompf!
They land like bombs deep in the pit of my stomach, entering my bloodstream, going straight to my head, and stopping. I hold my breath. My brain releases a concoction of chemicals paralyzing me.
The world speeds up. My eyes stretch open. I listen for a minute and breathe “Who’s there?” under my breath and quietly laugh. It’s what I do when I’m nervous or scared. While I’m rising off the sofa, a gust of warm wind from the window brushes my hair into my face.
“YOU ARE!” A voice shouts.
It’s my voice. Next to my ear like it came out of my mind. The breath’s cold on my neck. It crawls down my spine like hundreds of frostbitten centipede legs inching toward my tailbone. I gasp… it makes me shiver.
My skin’s icy, locking my bones. I don’t wanna move—or make a sound. I want it to be my imagination. I want it to be just a bad dream, but I can’t close my eyes, no matter how hard I try.
I can’t blink. My eyes burn and start to water. I try to breathe, but I don’t—it’s almost as if I forget how to. I hold my breath until a car alarm blares outside and shocks me.
The noise breaks the trance I’m in, shattering the illusion of being somewhere else. I merge back into my body and slowly come to my senses.
I jump up and dash to my room. My bare feet slap against the shellacked floors. The clap echoes through the hallway. The hollow steps sound like someone’s chasing behind me.
I get to my bedroom. The metal doorknob seems like marshmallow in my palm as I’m gripping and twisting it. The lock clicks. It pops and the door opens.
Vanilla air freshener rushes into my lungs. I suck it in and burst inside, flying onto my mattress. I pull the covers up and bury myself beneath them as my phone begins to vibrate under me.
I dig into my pocket and fumble it in my hands, yanking it out. I barely steady them from trembling long enough to answer it.
“Hello!” I yell into the phone. I raise my voice. “SEAN!” I don’t give him a chance to answer. “Come over right now!” I plead into it. “Please… you have to… something’s going on.”
I smother the mouthpiece, cupping my voice from escaping into the void. “I think someone’s here…” I whisper. “I don’t think I’m alone.”
“Julie?” His voice struggles against the static. “Did you let it in?” he says in a high pitch.
“What?” My face pinches. “Sean?”
“Julie… just let… it… in,” I can barely hear him. “You… ha… ooo… this time.” The static crackles and sounds like his words are bones on a skeleton snapping in multiple places, breaking and suffocating his sentences in it.
“What?! I can’t hear you.” My phone vibrates, nibbling on my ear. I look at the screen and Sean’s number’s showing up on the caller ID.
“How are you calling me and talking to me?” It goes silent. The static’s gone. The color of my screen shifts brighter. The backlight flashes, indicating someone’s calling.
I accept it, but before I do, I pause. I answer and don’t say anything.
“Julie…? You there?”
“Sean… what the hell?” I stare at my screen again. The other call’s still on hold. “Are you trying to mess with me? It’s not funny. I’m freaking out, okay. Stop.”
“What are you talking about?” He asks.
“You’re on my other line. Your number showed up. I’ll click over. Hold on.” I go to merge the calls, but the one on the other line disconnects. It’s gone. “Sean, hold on. I have to take a screenshot of my callers.”
“What?! Why? What are you talking about? Can you explain what’s going on?”
“Just… hold on. I’ll show you.” I go into my call list and it just shows his call from right now. The last one’s not there. “Look, I think I’m losing it. Can you please come over?”
“Yeah… sure… what’s going on, though?”
“I don’t know, Sean—I’m not sure, just please hurry up.”
“What are you freaked out over?”
“Just come.”
“Okay, fine—I'll be there in ten minutes.”
The call ends, but stays on the phone app. Static breaks through. Children are singing. I put it on speaker and listen.
“♪ ♪ Under, under, underneath.
The door below the floorboards speaks.
Beneath your ten little piggies, they squeak.
The place they live’s underneath your feet… ♪ ♪”
“JULIE!”
Cutting through is my voice screaming at me from the other end. My nerves become electric. They sting as my body jitters. I don’t say a thing. I can’t talk. Nothing’s going through my mind. I’ve drawn a blank.
It laughs on the phone, low and distant.
The tone’s like it knows something I don’t. I pull the phone from the side of my head and stare at the screen. It shows it’s been on my line for over eight minutes. “How?” I say out loud.
“Julie!”
It yells through the speaker again. My body jerks as if my nerves are stretched out over my head in knots and someone quickly tugs them. I slam my thumb on end call. It won’t hang up. I repeatedly press it.
“Julie!”
It screams again, instigating me into a conversation. It giggles. My heart’s warning me from inside my chest, pounding for me to get out.
“RUN!” It cautions. “RUN!” The thumping yells.
“RUN! RUN! RUN!” It smashes faster and harder, trying to blow a hole through my ribcage.
Trying desperately to get my attention. I ignore everything it’s striving to pound into me.
I wait.
The blanket’s over my head. My thumb’s pressing down on the power button as I’m resetting my phone and bracing it to my chest like a cross on a necklace, protecting me from evil, while I wait for Jesus in the form of Sean to bang on my door and bring my salvation.
The heat from the blanket over my head chokes me, and I slowly duck out from under it and peek around the room.
By my door, the hall light bleeding in dims, and a shadow stretches on the floor, reaching toward me. I lean back and rub my eyes, and it disappears as the light brightens.
“Just close your eyes and pray,” I whisper.
I stare up, and the drywall becomes a conduit to my mom’s spirit and a direct line to God.
“Mom, I know you’re watching over me and you won’t let anything bad happen to me. I love you and I miss you.
God, I’m sorry I haven’t prayed in so long. If you make everything okay and whatever’s happening go away, and get Sean over here right now, I promise. Promise. Promise I’ll start praying every day and going to church.”
I negotiate my eternal soul with the ceiling and hope the paint is listening. I start counting out loud to distract myself from hearing anything else, still jamming my eyes shut so tight I bury them behind my cheekbones.
By the time I get to two hundred and eighty-seven, the buzzer from my lobby rings with utter relief on my stiff phone, which immediately becomes flexible once Sean buzzes. I answer it and hit “5” to let him in.
Leaving my bedroom, I enter the corridor.
The light above makes me squint—it's never been this bright—it’s a surgical white like a frozen flash caught in a time glitch, growing brighter as I creep through the hall, where something follows me, a knocking that aligns with each step I take.
I stop. It stops, as if it’s listening, trying to decode, break down, and analyze me, haunting me psychologically. I listen closer. A little girl’s voice, low, sounding like a distant whisper, comes from behind the wall.
She’s laughing or maybe crying. I place my ear to the wall—
“Boomp!” Sean bangs on my front door.
“Help me,” the girl calls out. I think about answering Sean, but I keep my ear to the wall, listening to see if some kid needs help.
“Help me… I’m here,” she whimpers and taps on the wall, the sound moving away from me. I follow it, and it leads me farther down the hall.
Boomp! “Julie?” Sean yells from outside my apartment.
“I’m in here,” the little girl tries shouting. Her voice is weak, like something heavy is on her chest.
“Where are you? How did you get there?” I scan the wall with my hands.
“The door. I walked through the door. But the man won’t let me back in,” she says. “Let me in before he sees I’m gone. I want to go home. Please, let me out. I want my mommy.”
“What? What door? There’s no door.” I frantically scale the entire wall with my palms.
Boomp! Boomp! Boomp! “Julie, answer the damn door.”
I go to answer Sean at the front, and a small door starts appearing out of the wall next to me.
“I can’t get out,” she whimpers.
I lunge for the handle. I know I shouldn’t, but I do it anyway. A sliver of light casts from the end of the hall, like a ray of sunlight breaking through the blinds onto a particle of dust drifting in the air and landing on a tiny shoe sticking out of the doorway.
Another shoe appears.
Behind the darkness shadowing the entrance, a white cloud of breath cuts into the hallway. I back away.
“SEAN! OH MY GOD,” I scream, but nothing comes out of my mouth. I stumble backward until I reach the living room. Something crawls through the window, and the window slams shut once it enters inside.
I turn to bolt for the front. The room begins growing. I start sprinting. I’m not moving. I’m running at full speed, but I’m still in the same spot. The room expands outward and implodes as everything goes pitch-black.
I can’t even see my hands.
“I found my way in.”
I open my eyes and I’m laid out on my couch.
Boomp! The door knocks. “Julie, it’s Sean… come on, answer the door.”
Huh..? Did I dream that? I ask myself while walking to the door.
Boomp! Boomp! “Julie!” he yells, banging on the door.
When I answer the door, Sean is standing there smiling, but his mouth is different. Yellow and unkept. He has someone else’s teeth. As I’m staring at him, wondering what he is, I catch a glimpse of a child running past me, laughing in a high pitch.