The word impossible usually arouses humanity's infinite capacity of fascination and sparks bravery within those gallant enough to challenge the parameters of reality... Yet I cannot bring myself to feel this way any longer, for I have seen the impossible.
I am shaking as I type. The darkness protects me from something impossible; the description of its body would be satisfied with the words "mangled and contorted," if it were human. No, what I am being shrouded from is not human, but it attempts to be. Even as I type, I feel the penetrating gaze of its frighteningly empty eyes; two white pools, which no longer exist.
It would only make sense to begin from the very beginning of all of this. It was late at night. I was on the internet, searching through the vast collection of funny videos on YouTube. I heard my front door open, assuming it was my mother who had gone to the gym. I heard its thumping footsteps proceeding like those of normal human beings, and it walked past my room, paying no attention to the light that was seeping through the cracks of my door. This only further assured me that it was just dear mother returning home...
Then, like a punch in the stomach, it struck me; that was impossible, because my mother had already arrived less than five minutes ago. Upon realizing this, I was frozen by a cold, paralyzing fear; a fear unlike any intense emotion that I have experienced before. I did not call my mother's name as I heard bones snap, and the thump of a body against the hardwood floor. I only remained silent.
The beat of my heart like a metronome set to high hell; my hand's shaking matched its pulsating beat. I proceeded quickly towards the light-switch and turned off the light. I then returned to sitting on my bed, with my laptop and I heard my door open slowly - ever so slowly. The damned beast must've known the fear that he was striking into me, and was doing this merely to taunt me.
The door creaked open slowly, and he walked into my room. He had the audacity to close the door behind him. I sat paralyzed in fear, the creature merely stood there, watching me. I could even say he grinned as I trembled... and that made me angry. How could I be manipulated by an impossibility? It had sporadic breathing patterns, and it seemed to stifle screams. No. Not stifle, it was just too weak to scream. It started dripping something. I mustered the courage to proceed to the light switch, inch by inch, watching the creature whom was now leaned against my wall.
I turned on the light, and the refreshing, fluorescent light purified the room. Impossible. My assumptions were incorrect. It was human, its body was mangled and contorted, and worst of all... I gasped, and was struck by such surprise that I had to lean against the wall. The creature, or man I should say, was me. It was tangible, I placed my hand on its skin's texture... My eyes, or... Or his eyes, rather, were completely white as I said before, but his arms... My god, his arms... They were made of skin, but not my skin. They spanned his body, down to the length of his incredibly shortened legs and onto the floor. It was nude. It lacked genitals, and its arms seem to have been made of stretched-out skin from both a black and white man... The bone that made up the rest of his poorly manufactured arm seemed to be that of what his legs were missing... Its jaws were pried open.
I find myself typing, and glancing at the creature's outline through the darkness, for darkness is the only thing that protects me from the impossible: returning to my old life, returning to that piece of shit that I once called a body.