Greg Gifune - Sorcerer

Jeff squinted into the darkness. My glasses…

He knew they were on the nightstand where he’d left them, and his mind told him to reach over, pick them up then switch on the nightstand lamp, to call out and warn Eden that there was an intruder in the room, to jump from bed and confront whoever had broken into the apartment. But he couldn’t move. He tried to scream, but could only manage a choking sound.

The door swung partially closed, enough to reveal that someone had been standing behind it all along. An indistinct silhouette crept across the wall…

Foster Hope stood mere feet from the bed, glaring at him excitedly with the same yellow eyes the leopard had possessed in Jeff’s dream.

But before he could fully comprehend what he was seeing, the old man’s eyes turned black and cold and his lips quivered into a hideously demonic grin. A tongue, impossibly long and black, darted from his mouth like a snake, slithering about as if for purchase.

I’m dreaming, I-this is a nightmare, just a nightmare-I’m dreaming .

Hope’s liver-spotted hands reached out through the shadows, the fingernails long and curved, shiny white talons of bone piercing darkness.

The razor-sharp tips dripped what could only be blood, and it wasn’t until he moved even closer that Jeff realized Hope, like them, was completely nude. But something had wrapped itself around the lower portion of the old man’s body and was clinging to his pallid legs. Something alive and moist, coiled about his knees and thighs, writhing and pulsing like some slimy creature, perhaps a skinned human appendage or a thick serpent-like entity with a network of spider-web veins traversing a mass the color of raw meat.

Hopelessly paralyzed, Jeff watched with horror as the man glided toward the side of the bed. Eden’s side. Struggling, Jeff tried to scream, but his throat constricted and felt as if someone was strangling him. Though he couldn’t see them, he felt the unmistakable grip of cold ghostly hands wrap around his throat and tighten like a vise. Familiar hands…feminine hands…

Others had joined them. But were they… people?

They moved swiftly beneath the cover of shadow, hurrying about beyond the bedroom doorway and throughout the apartment.

This is a dream, a – a nightmare -

“There are no nightmares,” the old man said, flickering tongue slurring his speech. “There is only the torment of darkness.”

Eyes wide, Jeff’s body bucked and convulsed against strangulation as spittle bubbled in a thick froth from his mouth.

The bed shifted. Small shadowy forms scurried up over the foot of the bed, growling and clawing at the lone sheet until it fell away and Foster Hope reached for Eden’s exposed flesh.

Deep guttural laughter filled the room, and Jeff’s mind splintered as he spiraled down into a boundless darkness the likes of which he’d never before experienced.

Madness, it seemed, had swallowed him whole.

Though he’d been more or less awake for several minutes, Jeff remained in bed, flat on his back, the sheet tangled around him like a toga. Despite the early hour the humidity was already high and hung over the room like a shroud. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept so late. Sluggishly, he studied a series of hairline cracks in the bedroom ceiling a while. Distanced from his nightmares, they no longer held much power over him, but their memory remained vivid in his mind. Remnants of a headache scraped at his temples then faded as he turned his attention to the gliding motion of an oscillating fan on the bureau.

The sound of Eden’s heels clacking against the floor preceded her, and as she swept into the room with an enthusiasm and glee she hadn’t shown in a very long time, Jeff caught a whiff of her cologne. It was quickly dissipated by the fan. Makeup done and hair styled, she was dressed in a skirt and blouse and ready for work. “It’s alive!” she chuckled. “You were out cold and snoring so loud at one point the whole room was shaking.”

“A little too much wine, I guess.”

“You were having bad dreams too, you kept moaning in your sleep.”

“Yeah, had some strange ones last night.” He sat up and swung his legs around to the floor. “What time is it?”

“Little after eight.”

He rubbed the back of his neck with one hand and snatched his glasses from the nightstand with the other. “Can’t remember the last time I slept this late.”

“Enjoy it while you can, you’ll be back in the rat race soon.”

She leaned close, and they kissed. “Gotta run.”

Jeff slid his glasses on. “See you tonight. Have a good day, baby.”

“Love you.”

“I love you, too.”

She stopped at the door and looked back at him. “Jeff, I…I’m sorry things have been so tense these last few months.”

“Me too. But it’s over now, OK?”

Her smile lit up the room. “OK.”

“Everything’s going to be fine from here on out. I promise.”

After Eden left for work, Jeff had a bowl of cereal, watched CNN for a bit then showered, shaved and threw on a pair of jeans, a T-shirt and sneakers. He was about to give Craig a call when the buzzer rang.

He looked out the window at the front steps and saw a young guy in spandex and a helmet holding a large manila envelope in hand, his bicycle chained to a streetlight a few feet away. Jeff raised the screen, poked his head out and called down to him. “Can I help you?”

The man looked up. “Oh. Hey. Courier service. Got a delivery for…” He glanced at the envelope. “Jeff McGrath.”

“That’s me. I’ll buzz you up.”

A few moments later he opened the apartment door to find the lanky, heavily tattooed courier had just made it to the landing. He was drenched in sweat and looked like he hadn’t bathed or laundered his outfit in several days. When he got closer the smell confirmed it. “This heat’s a bitch,” he said with the detached boredom of a teenager. “Just won’t let up.”

“Yeah, hopefully it’ll break soon, huh?”

With a nod, he handed Jeff the envelope.

Something about the kid’s eyes didn’t seem quite right. Was he stoned?

“Problem?” the courier sighed.

“No, I-sorry-do I have to sign or anything?”

A mocking smile spread slowly across the courier’s face as he pulled a bottle of water from his belt and started back down the stairs. “All set.”

“Thanks.” Jeff closed the door. Something creepy about that kid , he thought. But he dismissed it and quickly returned his attention to the envelope. It felt nearly weightless. His name had been written across the front in magic marker but there was no return address or anything that suggested where the envelope originated from.

He tore the top open. A silver disc slid out.

The label designated it a DVD-R and revealed the manufacturer’s name but offered nothing else. Confused and more than a little nervous, Jeff forced himself to the entertainment center on the far wall, turned on the television then slid the disc into the DVD player.

Remote in hand, he backed away to the couch and hit PLAY. Static filled the screen. Jeff was about to hit fast-forward when the screen blinked and the snow was replaced with darkness. An eerie and monotonous rumbling sound groaned through the speakers like the drone of some unknown machinery. A few bars of interference bent and rippled across the black screen, and then slowly, the darkness gave way to reveal grainy black-and-white footage shot by what appeared to be an old VHS camcorder of some sort. The frame blinked and became a hotel room.

Jeff’s hands began to shake. He wanted to hit the STOP button on the remote but his finger refused to cooperate. Throat dry and eyes watering with fear and rage, he watched as he and Jessica entered the room. They’d had breakfast, and after an hour of flirting, she’d insisted he come with her up to the room for a minute, using the excuse that she needed to get something for his interview before they left. He’d agreed, already knowing what was about to happen. And now he watched himself nervously fidgeting just inside the hotel room door as Jessica reached around him, purposely crushing her breasts against his chest as she hung a DO NOT DISTURB sign on the knob.