Category: 2024 – Rogue Rabid Thoughts

Whack-A-Mole

Have you ever wondered about the phrase “Creatures of Habit?” I mean, really thought about it? If you look it up in the dictionary, you’ll find the definition as “a person who follows an unwavering routine.” But why use the word “creatures”? I thought it was weird—that’s all. This next story is about my encounter with a rather bizarre group of people—or should I say, *beings*, if you’d allow me to say so. And you may not believe me, but I welcome you to read on anyway, if it intrigues you—and if you have the time. So, here goes.

About six years ago, I worked as a purchasing officer for a local tech company servicing overseas clients. I stayed in most nights since the demand could get quite erratic, and we were called in frequently. Staying at the office was the most convenient thing for my line of work. Because of the highly disruptive work patterns, my sleeping habits were skewed. I slept during the day when work kept me up at night, and vice-versa. Over time, this affected my sleeping habits, and eventually, I found it hard to sleep whenever I needed to.

One particular night, I went about my usual routine: I ate supper around seven, read a back issue of *National Geographic* (from the piles my dad gave me) for about thirty minutes while smoking, with the TV on. We didn’t have cable at the time, so most of the programs were movie reruns, with a bunch of commercials in between. I’d do stretches for my lower back, sit by the window, sometimes look at the skyline, and count lit windows to kill time. I’d then go to the common bathroom, wash up, and brush my teeth before turning in. Even in the morning, when I worked nights, I’d still try to follow the same routine—eat my meals, read, tune in to the local news, and smoke until sleep set in.

While lying in bed, I suddenly had a hypnic jerk and felt the urgent need to use the bathroom. It was uncharacteristic of me to get up during bedtime, but I thought I should do my bladder a favor. I couldn’t find my slippers, which was unusual, so I went out barefoot. The corridor was empty—I seemed to be the only one there. I looked at my watch, but it wasn’t working. It was probably around 2 a.m. when I got up, since no one else was around. The other staff who stayed in the dormitory must have already gone home for the weekend. My room was at the end of the hall, while the bathroom was at the opposite end, so it was a bit of a walk. I looked outside and saw that the moon was halfway up, and the air was incredibly humid.

By the time I got to the bathroom and opened the door, I was shocked to see two strange-looking men in white overalls.

The man near the door was holding what I thought were rakes and shovels, while the other one was in the process of climbing out of a hole in the bathroom drain. Stunned, we stood still for a moment, speechless. Though they wore goggles, I could still make out some of their features. And I could tell they were *not* from around here. Looking back, I think they looked more like moles—except they had human-like traits. They stood upright and had the posture of people. The light behind me might have made it hard for them to see who I was. The one near me shielded his eyes as he backpedaled a few paces. The other one, almost on instinct, like in a whack-a-mole game, went back into the hole.

“You went barefoot!”  The stranger nervously exclaimed.

I tried to open the door all the way, but he used one of the shovels to block it. At this point, I think I was already screaming for help, but I had the strange feeling that no one was hearing me. I know I couldn’t prove any of this, but there was something off about it all. During the struggle, I noticed that there was no wind outside, and the leaves of the trees surrounding the building weren’t moving—it was as if everything except us was caught in suspended animation. Through the gap in the door, I could see part of the stranger’s face through his overly large, round goggles. His skin was dark, greasy, and covered in hair. I also noticed that his nose was oddly shaped—pointed, almost cone-like—and parts of his cheeks were swollen as if they were puffed up.

I let go of the door, ran through the hallway, and leapt down the stairs toward the entrance.

I found the security guard and took him to my floor, back to the common bathroom.

But to my surprise, nobody was there. I asked the guard to check for any signs of a break-in, but the drain—and even the toilet where the hole had been—were firmly fixed in place. No signs of a struggle. No work had been done at all. It was just… strange. Chills ran down my spine. Still in shock, the guard took me to the clinic. It was only then that I realized the blood had drained from my face when I saw myself in the mirror. That was the last time I spent nights there—or even set foot near the building’s premises. I was afraid of losing my job, but most of all, I didn’t want another encounter with those giant moles. It’s only now that I’m able to talk about it. I still can’t understand what the hell they were working on in that bathroom. Based on what they wore, they seemed like underground workers. And those strange faces—they didn’t seem used to being on the surface, especially with how they reacted to the bright lights.

 

Sleeping Women

It’s nearly dawn. I was driving through a remote pass on the mountainside when suddenly, I received a phone call from my mother. At first, I thought it was a wrong number, but it really was my mother.

“No time to explain, but it’s really me. I need you to do something for me.”

There’s no way that it was her, unless this is just a dream that I’m having.

I haven’t heard from her for years.

Apparently, there had been a family emergency that I needed to help sort out. My Aunt Cecil had just died. The task was for me to visit my aunt’s place in the nearby province, assess the situation, and head back right away with as much information as I could gather. Honestly, I didn’t really want to go; however, my mother rarely asked me for help, so it was hard to say no.

When I arrived, the funeral director was already there.

“We’ve been expecting you,” she said, bowing slightly before walking toward the car.

Although my mother mentioned that someone from the funeral home would come over, I wasn’t expecting it to be a young woman, let alone a stunningly attractive one. She wore a somber black suit and a modest white collared shirt underneath, and her hair was neatly pulled back.

I never thought the face of death could be as beautiful.

“Shall we go inside? I took the liberty of preparing something to eat and some refreshments. I hope you don’t mind.”

“No, not at all. I am grateful. Thank you for taking an interest.”

Up until that point, I didn’t know the details surrounding my aunt’s death. According to the funeral director, she was alone when it happened, and the coroner ruled out foul play.

“Foul play?”

“I apologize for being too forward about this, but given her situation and her status in our community, we needed to rule out all possible scenarios—her living alone in such a spacious property could make her vulnerable.”

“I understand. Could you tell me the cause of death?”

“Well, according to the official report, to put it simply, your aunt’s heart just stopped. The doctors, despite their efforts, weren’t able to find any blockage in the blood flow or anything that could lead to a logical medical explanation.”

I was unable to respond properly—I wanted to ask if my aunt had an easy passing.

The woman walked me through the details of the service. I signed some documents for the release of the remains and the insurance for the service.

That evening, I slept on the couch and watched the full moon through the window. The sky was more blue than black, contrasting with the dark trees surrounding the house. Outside, the orchestra of crickets played, and the air was thin but cool. I had half a glass of whiskey and turned in between 8 and 9.

Sometime in the middle of the night, the phone rang. It was the funeral director.

She asked if I wanted to see my aunt before they started the cremation. Of course, I had to say yes. Despite being tired from the drive, it was only proper to pay my last respects—I said yes.

At the funeral home, the man at the front desk cheerily greeted me and walked me to the lower grounds where my aunt was.

“We don’t usually have people over, you see. Not to sound like a prick about it, but people live long in these parts of the world.” I nodded and walked along, keeping up with the attendant’s pace.

The funeral director was waiting for us at the mortuary. This time, she had her hair down. The gloss of her lipstick shone under the single yellow lightbulb hanging in the middle of the room. I secretly wished that someone as lovely would take care of me when my time comes.

“I did mention that we’ll commence the procedure tonight. However, I don’t think I asked if you wanted to witness it, so we wanted to ask you.”

“Yes, thank you for the thought. Do I need to do anything? I’m sorry, I’m quite new to this.”

“No worries. Um, do you want to say a few words? That’s usually how it’s done.”

I gave it a try. I thanked my aunt for taking care of me and my siblings when we were kids, when my mother had to go abroad to work, and for being so kind at all times.

“It’s just unfortunate none of the other family members could join us,” the beautiful funeral director said ruefully.

“Yes, unfortunately.”

“Do you wish to call someone back home to let them know we’re about to begin the service?”

I shook my head. “I’m afraid they’re all indisposed.”

“I see,” she said, then signaled to the male attendant to commence the process.

“Can I ask you a small favor?” I asked hesitantly.

She looked at me with approval, the first time I’d seen her smile since that afternoon.

She sidled next to me and held my arm.

“Is this okay?” I asked. She nodded.

I told her I’d stick around for a few more days just to see things through.

While my aunt’s body was inserted into the chamber, I prayed for her and my mother’s souls.

And after that, I stopped receiving calls from my dead mother.

Spiral

I’ve been climbing up a spiral staircase.

It was so high that when I looked up, I saw only a black dot where it seemed to end—at least, that was the impression I got. Perhaps it was just my imagination.

The dot appeared to be getting larger the higher I climbed.

Sometimes, it would disappear, then it would appear again. The size of the black dot would vary from time to time.

This must be a dream, I thought.

“Who asked you to come up?”

A faint voice drifted from a distance.

But when I turned around, there was no one there.

There was nothing. Only the spiral staircase in an enormous whitewashed room.

I kept climbing anyway.

Soon, I grew tired. My legs felt as though they were about to give out.

While my will was strong, my body just couldn’t keep up.

When was the last time I had a decent meal? My last water intake?

I just couldn’t remember for the life of me.

That’s when I felt my soul tearing itself away from my body.

I began hearing that voice again. It loomed over me this time; it was more audible, even conversational.

“Another contender, I see. Just a little more, and soon you’ll be free from that useless mortal body of yours.”

“Who—who’s out there?” I managed to let out a trembling, cracked voice.

“Just another resident. Another contending thought. C’mon, a little further and you’ll figure it out.”

“Figure what out?”

I willed all my extremities to move. I managed to climb some forty flights more or less, attempting to escape the strange voice.

Why would anybody build such a strange contraption? A staircase in the middle of nowhere?

When I reached another landing, I looked down and saw my physical body lying lifelessly on the steps below.

“I’m not gonna be able to sleep tonight, am I?”

“For as long as you have me, for as long as you are you, I don’t think so.”

“And why is that? Is there a way to just shut you off?”

“I wish it were that simple. You’ll have to find a way around me, around you—thoughts are essential but bothersome sometimes.”

“Thoughts?”

“Well, we could be an afterthought, a suppressed memory, sometimes a culmination of a feeling, like desire, even malice. Like I said, bothersome.”

“I’m an afterthought? What the heck are you talking about?”

“We are the itch of the mind, we are engineers of guilt, of sorrow, even grief; we are what dreams are made of—a storm of the mind, the passing rain over a sleepy town, the knights of creation. And no, we don’t get to sleep. Even in unconsciousness, we do our handiwork, the strange and the bizarre; we sometimes appear as apparitions, you see.”

“Especially at night.”

“Keeps you awake, keeps our person awake, yes.”

“If that’s the case, it must be nighttime, then.”

“In their world. Not around here, I’m afraid.”

“You’re not making sense at all.”

“Look around. There’s nothing here. Only your consciousness and all the things you’re about to abandon.”

“Can you at least try to be helpful?”

(silence)

“Hey, are you still there?”

There was nothing.

I kept on climbing the spiral staircase. It must’ve been some time before I reached what appeared to be the summit.

When I looked down, everything was the same—a white canvas.

I began to survey what was above me.

It was like peering through a wide window, only it was an enormous view of someone’s bedroom.

And a faceless figure gripping a colossal pencil, poised to make contact with where I stood—

I wait for the artist to continue with his craft.