Wakeup Call

When I was a child, I would sometimes wake up in the middle of the night to find myself surrounded by creatures lurking in the dark corners of my room, waiting for their chance to pounce. The first few times, I'd screamed for my mother. After a year or so, I had grown wise to this trick. I'd turn on the lights and watch the monsters change back to the harmless objects that defined my life during the day. 

Tonight, the objects had conspired against me, and the only light to cling to pulsed out from the misused windowfront, which had switched to a late-night teleshopping show.

The flickering image of a single-use kitchen appliance illuminated my suit from behind, blurring its contours and rendering its front in shadow. The suit's gait was initially unsure and clumsy, but with each step, it found its footing more, seemed to fill out, gained physicality. I began to think that there was a body beneath the fabric.

I couldn’t move.

It was as if our roles had been reversed. Try as I might, my body remained glued to the bedsheets. All I could do was helplessly flail my arms around, and even that felt like trying to swim up in a sea of molasses. The suit ignored my pathetic attempts at escape and continued its advance. By the time it had reached me, its body had become a tangible fact, but its features remained indecipherarble. The figure got onto the bed, straddled me, picked up the ramen bricks from the tray and shoved them into my mouth, all at once.

“EAT! EAT, YOU LITTLE BRAT! THIS IS ALL YOU SHALL HAVE! STARVE OR DIE EATING!”

The bricks scraped against the back of my throat. I could feel a pool of blood forming in my mouth and spilling out onto the bed. Instinct took over. My body forced me to cough the obstruction back up, forced me to throw my head around, but the figure's grip on my chin was hard and unrelenting. Its hand felt cold and bloated, like it shouldn't hold any power, but the strength with which it constrained me was frightening.

While I was fighting for my life, a gross, canny laughter came from the speaker. It barely even sounded like laughter anymore, too distorted by the distance created by out of date consumer grade technology to register as human. I couldn't stand it. I never did. I had always put up with it, but this was just too much. If it had been the constant background noise to my life, I at least refused to die being laughed at by that voice. I needed to cut it off, once and for all.

I realized what I had to do.

Through the molasses, I reached out to the bedside table. The teleshopping show got stuck in a loop of some smiling presenter pleading with me.

“Don’t touch that dial! Don’t touch that dial! Don’t touch that-“

The second voice joined in. The first voice followed suit, then a third and a fourth and a fifth, sixth, seventh… Soon, they had formed a demonic choir, a cacophony of a hundred figureheads commanding me not to do what needed to be done:

"DON'T TOUCH THAT DIAL!!!"

Unable to turn my head, I relied on muscle memory to find the holes, turn the wheel and dial the number:

1…

1…

…9!

There was the single click of a disconnected call. 

The figure froze for a moment, then the receiver dropped onto the bed. The hand's grip on my face loosened. Exhausted, I let my head drop onto the pillow. All the blood and refuse flowed out of my mouth. As I faded away, I watched the figure get up, gently put the receiver back in its place and pick up my suitcase. Before vanishing through the door, it gave me a nod. This was the first time I could clearly make out its face. I recognized it. I saw it in the mirror every morning while getting ready for work.

***

I was woken up by a sunbeam caressing my face. 

I spent a while blissfully floating on the cusp of wakeness, dreaming of a curious kobold carefully prodding at my eyes. Suddenly, the image of the shadowy figure looming over me flashed infront my mind's eye. I was immediately wide awake. I searched the room for evidence of the night's events. Somehow, my bed was totally clean. The food and the wagon were gone. So were my suit and the suitcase, though. I could finally make out the clock on the left wall. it was noon already. 

I had missed breakfast.

Thankfully, I had stashed my wallet in a drawer the night before, so I wasn't left without funds. Clothes would be a bigger issue. The shorts and shirt I was wearing had sufficed for the night, but I felt weird about going out in them. I ended up finding a plushy pink bath robe in the closet. It didn't quite fit - a layer of warm air formed between it and my body - but it smelled nice, and the fluffy fabric was comforting. While looking around for clothes, I also realized that my socks had been left behind on the floor. I didn't bother with them.

Before leaving, I opened one of the windows and leaned out. I could finally take in the view that had been hidden from me: A dirt path lined by tall, sturdy trees gently swaying in the breeze, leading into the deep blue horizon. It was a beautiful day.

I made my way downstairs. Not a single person crossed my path. Even the lobby was entirely devoid of people. A bit uneasy, I stepped up to the counter and rang the bell. 

...

They sure were taking their sweet time... Why hadn't they done their wakeup call, anyway? The bulk of the professional development conference would have been over by now, and I couldn't exactly pop in at this point, looking the way I was. The rooms had only been booked for the night, so my coworkers wouldn't return here, either... 

For the first time in many years, I had to ask myself: Where was I supposed to be?

I thought I heard muffled whispering coming from the room behind the counter. Without another thought, I turned away and left the hotel.

The dirt road I had seen from my room opened up before me. I imagined Mimiko running into the distance, smiling and beckoning me to follow her, her long black hair falling against her back like yet to be woven threads dangling from a loom.

I did not know where I was supposed to be, but I knew where I would go.

Mimiko... Your little mollusc is finally coming home.