Free Uncanny Day by Cory Clubb Page A

dead?
    ***
    THE NEXT THING I remember was jolting awake in my bed. The red lights of my digital clock read 2:34 a.m. My bed sheets were twisted, my blankets thrown to the floor. Instinctively I wiped my nose—no blood. Had it all been a dream? I had no idea. I tried to relax and settle myself back down; my eyes slid shut. I felt exhausted.
    The simple rise and fall of my chest with each breath soothed me as a sliver of calm was allowed to seep in. It felt good. Slowly, distance and time began to dissipate and my mind started to wander. Silence. Peace. Sleep.
    Then they began.
    No , I thought as I heard the first tiny whisper. It turned into a low hush as more gathered inside my head. The voices were gibberish, secrets about nothingness. They rose, becoming louder, like parents arguing in the next room. My eyes squeezed, frustrated. I needed to focus. I needed to contain them!
    Inside the deep, dark space of my mind, I tried concentrating on its inner workings. My goal was to fold in the edges of itself and surround the blistering chatter. I felt something begin to lift—a wall. No, it was more like a wave in the sea of my mind.
    Contain them! I rallied, screaming to myself.
    There were two waves now, each moving slowly like a pair of hands ready to shake, yet instead encapsulating some invisible bubble between them. It was working; it was actually working. Then suddenly, my liquid waves stopped and the voices started to fight back, making my waves resist each other like two opposing forces on magnets.
    No!
    I was losing it.
    Hold steady!
    I fought, pushing past a cool sweat that broke over my brow. I silently pleaded for some kind of relief.
    I have to sleep, please.
    Pain rippled into my skull as though someone was slowly peeling my brain like an orange. The voices were winning out; I couldn’t hold much longer. My teeth gritted together as I forced one final effort.
    Lifting my hands, I physically tried to grab those mental objects. I probably looked like a complete idiot, but I didn’t know what else to do. My head throbbed with pain, and I felt my teeth grinding against one another. My heart raced, sweat soaking my shirt. I wanted to yell out loud. Was this ever going to end?
    I dove deep down into my psyche and resurrected the wave as far up as I could. I felt my physical arm reaching up as my back arched heavenward. Then I released it and the wave came crashing down. It filled my head and muted the voices to a whisper, a pop, and then no more.
    My body fatigued and finally slept.

Chapter Twenty-one
    EVEN THOUGH I ACHIEVED somewhat solid sleep that night, a small victory, I still didn’t feel relief. My morale had been shaken to a new low as I learned of Stephanie’s death when they broadcast it school-wide on the announcements. It hit me like a kick to the gut.
    Everybody seemed to be going through the motions, even the teachers. A few grief counselors were on campus for those who wanted to talk to someone in private. I actually considered it, but how would I explain to them the burden I carried?
    It was my lunch hour, but I didn’t feel like eating anything the cafeteria was serving. I just wanted this day to be over. I walked aimlessly throughout the hallways. The bright-colored posters promoted the upcoming Fall Ball, something that had completely gone out of my head, tried to change my mood with their hot pinks and glowing greens. I wondered what Kate was thinking. What was her reaction to all this?
    I was awakened to reality when a spiky-haired kid came up and slung his arm around my neck. “Hey, Nolan, dude, I need you to do something for me.”
    I didn’t want to respond, but did anyway. “I’m sorry. I can’t take any new jobs right now,” I said, trying to shrug off his arm.
    The guy stopped cold mid-hallway. I kept walking.
    â€œOh, come on, man. Help a guy out.” He stretched out his arms to either side. It was the same motion that thing, or