Aspect: A Tale of Terror!

By James Eugene Richardson

Prologue: Sleeping with insomnia stricken thoughts, the mind races with a million fantasies. Thoughts stream and many fathoms of unconsciousness are explored as the mind feeds on this deep sleep. The cogitation slows and stops within a stratus. It dissipates to reveal an image of a mortal character in time. It has no origin and no termination. It serves only one purpose.

It was a rather chilly evening with a gentle breeze blowing from the East. A scarcity of traffic upon the street had diminished to a several cars per minute. The sun had been down for hours although an occasional street lamp illuminated the cobblestone walkway quite adequately. Ralph Taylor's strides were confident as he approached the center of town. He was a rather lofty gentleman with a refined appearance. His cheekbones shaped his bony face which made his nose appear brought and quite distinct. His eyes were a cool indigo and observed collectively beneath his pronounced forehead. He was in his mid 30's and his receding hairline confirmed it. Taylor was on his way to dinner with friends to a place called "The Tavern". Why he chose this particular night to walk remained obscure. Perhaps the thought of a little exercise amused him. As of late he had been experiencing spells of anxiety but chose to consistently ignore this recurring insolence.

He passed a series of twin story buildings, rounded the corner and was there. The familiar neon sign above the entrance shone a bright crimson and blinked with erratic accuracy. The doorway was recessed and awaited entrance. He proceeded inward and was promptly greeted by a stout man with a balding forehead, a man quite familiar with his job. He approached Taylor and wasted no time escorting him to his reserved table.

The dining room was adequately large. Occasional lighting was sufficient enough to illuminate a selection of randomly placed tables. The walls were covered with a layer of dark stain paneling with occasional window interspersed. An elaborate crystal chandelier pronounced itself in dead center of the ceiling which inspired occasional conversation from interested parties. Taylor was seated amongst his friends and quickly engaged in conversation. They all reminisced of past days and distant abandoned dreams. There were many faces, each with a tale to relate. Many had lived comfortably while others have suffered. This evening brought each of them much happiness.

His regular order arrived promptly at the table. Taylor quickly consumed his portion of rare steak, savoring each delicious bite. He left his plate clear of even the tiniest morsel and brushed away the food smudges that appeared around the outside of his mouth. Admitting that his stomach was comfortably full, he reached in front of him beside his plate and lifted a portioned glass of milk to his lips.

As the first swallow flowed down his throat, it hit him. It was a subtle thing at first and he thought nothing of it. Conversation continued. Taylor grew increasingly worrisome as the feeling persisted and increased in strength. Sweat began to dampen his brow. He did not wish to be bothered with an illness, especially this evening in the company of friends. Nonetheless his body temperature was ascending rapidly and sweat now enveloped his forehead. Taylor had little choice but to excuse himself. He could feel his heart rate increase as he stood up and proceeded to a private area. He expected his absence to be brief. Possible subjection to food poisoning now consumed his thoughts.

A short excursion past a series of tables brought him to the main lobby. he was again approached by the man who had originally seated him. He escorted Taylor to a private employee break room. Sweat had now enveloped his entire body. He promptly entered the room and closed the hardwood door behind him, muting all conversation from the dining area. It was an odd little room with a shaggy green rug stretched across the floor. The walls were auburn with an interesting variety of graffiti scratched upon them. There were no windows with only a single ceiling lamp to light the room. A old, frayed couch claimed a corner of floorspace in front of which lay a clunky coffee table scattered with an array of drained coffee cups and dispersed magazines. This room had experienced it's share of neglect and over use.

Taylor was feeling much, much worse now but did not want to sit down. He felt as though he was burning up on the inside. Blood within his veins created a tingling sensation beneath his skin, permeating his entire body. He then noticed something he had overlooked when he first entered the room. It was a small vanity mirror attached to the farthest wall parallel to the door. He unsteadily sauntered over and stood before the reflective glass. His nightmare was now visible.

Peering at eye level, the mirror displayed a vision of horror. A now enlarged forehead extended beyond the limits of normal cranial development. Globules of skin undulated with individual motion. Dark, emotionless eyes became recessed in two corrupt pits as incisors extruded beyond the lips with pointed accuracy. Lips became crimson like in color and stretched as facial muscles expanded. The pain became excruciating. Clothes became intolerably restricted. Fabric separated like paper with unrelenting progression. Limbs became enormous in size and strength. Terror gripped emotion as the room diminished in volume. At the culmination of intolerable pain Taylor turned away from the mirror and approached the door. Suddenly the door appeared undersized and frail. He could no longer tolerate this diminutive room. His grotesque, swollen hand grasped the door knob and swung open the door with violent force.

In an instant Taylor was his normal, unaltered self. It was as though this mutation had never occurred. Skin that had been stretched considerably was now perfectly smooth. The size of his limbs had resumed normality. He stood there understandably stunned by what has just occurred. He was certain of one thing. It was an illusion, a hallucination, it had to be. He was willing to accept that.

It was a few minutes before he returned to his table where he promptly ordered a stiff drink. Taylor then realized that he felt in superior health yet remained highly puzzled. He glanced around the bustling, smoke filled room to rid his mind of these thoughts. He then noticed something which caught his eye. A man in the corner caressing his forehead as though quite uncomfortable for some reason. The man rose up and preceded out of the room. Taylor decided to ignore it. He said nothing to his friends about what happened. He wished his friends a good evening, excusing himself and departed for home.