Page 1 of Synodic

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“This isn’t real,” I pleaded, even as the gripping hand of darkness tightened around my throat. Shadowed limbs robbed me of my senses and clutched at my mind, leaving me in a pitch-black cloud that swarmed my every step.

The dense mist clung to me with the dragging weight of shackles around my wrists and ankles. Some small part of me knew I needed to keep walking, keep resisting, for fear that if I stopped, even for a moment, I might never move again.

I pressed on blindly, my fingers sliding through the fog like the bow of a ship through inky waters, but with no sense of direction, I was a mariner left without a compass or even the stars to guide me.

The only thing that gave me the slightest bit of comfort was the feeling that somewhere just beyond my outstretched hands, someone was reaching back for me.

“Hello,” I choked out to that twinging illusion. “Is anyone out there?”

No one ever responded, not even a whisper.

Aside from my desperate pleas, all was static silence—that is until faceless growls and vicious hissing began stalking the ripple of my wake. I couldn’t see a thing, but I knew my presence in these opaque shadows had garnered the attention of the monsters that lived here. Whatever they were, they remained at a distance, as if waiting for the spring of a hatch to release me into their eager clutches. But something was venturing close. Too close.

Undecipherable noises whirred and clicked around me as a creature slithered inside my cage of darkness. A pungent, sticky-sweet breath panted at my neck, and invisible tentacle-like limbs crept along my arms and chest. I was entirely locked in place by the beast who poked and prodded at me like a giant insect.

A cold terror attacked my body, and I couldn’t help thinking how horrible it would be to die in this hostile wasteland where no one would ever find me. A thousand wiggling legs skirted my hair off my shoulder, revealing the thudding pulse at my neck. The creature breathed in my scent and thrummed in excitement as it coiled back to strike me.

I braced myself for what I hoped would be a swift ending when a revolting screech erupted in my ear and nearly split my head in two. The spindly beast instantly released its hold on me, but didn’t go far.

Too dark to make out more than fighting shadows, I knew a vicious battle was unfolding just beyond my line of sight. It appeared my hunter had become the hunted.

Grateful for the arrival of the second predator, and that it had no desire or interest in me whatsoever, I sprinted with a determination I reserved for the lanes of a track field.

“This isn’t real,” I repeated over and over though it was hardly enough to drown out the deadly duel raging behind my back. I ran as if my life depended on it—or at least I tried to—my feet refused to move as fast as I willed themas if I were knee-deep in mud.

Eventually, the horrific noises faded, and my senses wavered as I barreled through a small copse of trees. I stumbled to a stop, blinking away one darkness only to be greeted by another. Terror stuck to the base of my spine as I realized I was sleepwalking—or more like sleep running. I braced my hands on my knees, out of breath and sore, standing in the road in the dead of night barefoot, cut up and bruised.

I let out a sob of relief. My near-death experience had only been a dream, yet my body still shook uncontrollably. The icy echoes that followed me from my nightmare chilled me so deeply, they may as well have traveled across the frigid expanse of space before settling into my bones.

I couldn’t remember the last time I dreamt or slept anything less than perfectly sound. Though recently, my nights were fitful and endless, devoid of any light, heat, or sanctuary, and now here I stood, stranded in the middle of nowhere.

Gathering my bearings, I picked up a slow jog home, hoping to warm my body from its violent trembling, though I doubted it would help. This cold ache from a dissipating presence was more than skin deep, and it was, unfortunately, becoming my new normal.

Over the past few weeks, I’d wake from the same nightmare that left me grasping at what was real and what wasn’t. Each night grew subsequently worse as the darkness bore heavier, and something got…closer.

Though I knew running in the street at night wasn’t safe, the impression I’d escaped the greater threat lingered with me like a trailing phantom.

Beyond exhausted and wearing next to nothing, I ran home, intending to take this secret to my grave.

* * *

I quietly entered the historic row house I rented with my roommate, Natalie. I gently tiptoed up the stairs, trying my best not to alert her that I was just getting in from a late-night run.

I’d wandered farther than I thought; it had taken me over an hour to get home. And as I padded through the low-lit halls, I knew Natalie was already up and ready to start the day, most likely taking tiny sips from her blended smoothie. I never understood how she could be so routined and disciplined all the time; it was maddening and, quite frankly, too early to deal with right now.

“Keira?” Natalie yelled up to me from the downstairs kitchen. The home may be restored, but the old planks still creaked beneath my weight, and I cursed the traitorous floorboards that gave me away. “You’re up early.”

I was not a morning person by the farthest stretches of the imagination, and it was a near-impossible fact for me to hide. “Must be a chilly day in Hell,” I called back to her before slipping into the bathroom, relieved she hadn’t heard me sneak in through the front door.

I made a point not to look in the vanity mirror. I didn’t need to see my tired features and tangled hair to know that I looked like someone who’d just run miles in their t-shirt and underwear. Getting a decent night’s rest was becoming harder and harder to achieve; I just hoped no one noticed.

Suddenly, a horrified gasp over my shoulder startled me—Natalie had crept up on me out of nowhere. “What?” I screeched, searching for the bug that was most assuredly crawling all over me.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but you look like shit,” she stated with a matter-of-fact air that people either loved or hated about her. I usually appreciated it, but not today. It all but confirmed my restless nights were bubbling to the surface, plain for all to see, and I wilted at her observation.

She glistened in the hallway like a polished ivory stone while I stood an exhausted, cut-up mess. Maybe I could convince her I was coming down with something or that I’d been overwhelmed with work, but she beat me to the punch. “I suppose you can’t help that you don’t get much sleep with all your tossing and turning and mumbling incoherently. It’s amazing how anyone around here gets any sleep, especially when I hear you pacing the halls. Sometimes you scream, Keira. It’s actually kind of scary.”

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