The cold air bites at my skin, thick with the stench of piss and garbage. The alley is pitch black, a jagged wound between lamp-lit streets. Rats scatter beneath my feet, claws skittering across wet concrete. For a homeless, jobless man like me, this is how you get food. By digging in dumpsters.
It's been two months since I lost my job at the paper mill. That loss took everything. My paycheck, my insurance, my meds. Now reality slips through my fingers like grease. The hallucinations are back.
Faces flicker in the dark. My mother. My foreman. A girl I used to know. They appear and vanish in the corners of my vision, whispering things I can't quite catch. I don't know what's real anymore.
Near the alley's end, the shadows begin to twist, curling like smoke, binding like rope. They knot themselves into a figure: tall, skeletal, with eyes like oil slicks and skin like scorched leather.
I freeze.
The thing speaks, it's voice low and wet, like a thought that doesn't belong to me.
"I am Amentia. I see the chaos in your mind, Silas Grey. I feel your confusion. Let them see it too. Let them taste the madness. Bring forth the echos of your mind!"
I can't move. Can't breathe. Amentia reaches out and presses a single finger to my forehead.
Then he's gone.
I spin, searching the alley. Nothing. No footprints. No sound. But something's wrong. My thoughts are louder now—echoing, overlapping, arguing. Shapes ripple at the edges of my vision. Shadows stretch fingers toward me, brushing my coat, tugging at my sleeves.
I bolt into the street, heart hammering. The city lights feel too bright. Too sharp.
And somewhere behind my eyes, something has opened.
Pedestrians scream and scatter as the shadows convulse, knotting into dozens of black, foggy beings.
They rise from the pavement like smoke with teeth—limbs shifting, faces half-formed, eyes like voids.
Not everyone escapes.
The creatures descend, tearing into flesh with impossible speed. Limbs fly. Blood spatters the sidewalk.
I stand frozen in the chaos, watching my mind spill into the world.
It's real.
My hallucinations have become real.
The screams swell, raw, desperate, animal. I clamp my hands over my ears, squeeze my eyes shut, and try to vanish inside myself.
The chaos fades.
When I open my eyes, the street is silent. The shadows are gone, but the bodies remain.
The streets are painted red with lost hope and remnants of regret.
My mind did this.
I did this.
Somewhere deep inside, beneath the horror, something stirs. Immense remorse consumes my being.
I try to breathe. I try to think. My thoughts aren't mine anymore.
They echo and multiply while the world listens.
I have to find isolation fast, before anyone else dies.
The night grows darker and the cool air pierces my skin as I make my way toward the eastern edge of the city. I should be able to find some abandoned building in the slums.
Faces of the starving and homeless greet me with weary eyes as I get closer and closer to the slums. Parents huddle with their children to keep them warm. Loners cling to burning garbage as the noxious fumes fill their already damaged lungs.
Eventually I stumble upon an abandoned Theater Warehouse from the 1980's. Its not the best, but it'll work.
The door groans loudly, releasing years of tension as I turn the knob to open it. I step into the dark, dusty interior of the building. Shapes emerge from the shadows as my eyes adjust to the low level of light. I spot an old sofa dressed in several throw pillows. Fine particles of dust dance in the moonlight creeping in through the curtains as I beat the pillows together. With the sofa somewhat less dusty, I lie down and close my eyes, ready to embrace the darkness, and the silence that comes with it. I drift into a dark void filled with voices as I fall asleep. As the void gets darker, the voices grow louder. One voice triumphs over all others. I know this voice. It is Amentia.
"Kill them Silas. End their suffering. Flood the streets with their blood. Give into the chaos, Silas.." The voice fades as the faces of the homeless and starving haunt every corner of my vision.
My eyes snap open. The faces are taking form from the shadows around me. Their skin drips like hot candle wax as they beg me to take mercy on them. Amentia's voice rises from the darkness again. "Go ahead, Silas. Give them what they so desperately desire."
My body trembles as I refuse to consider Amentia's request.
My heart races as I look towards the door. What happens next, I'm uncertain. I don't know if I can hold onto reality. One foot after another, my feet guide me towards the door. Is this intentional, or is my body acting on its own? I can't tell. All I know is that something bad is coming... Shadows form a mass behind me, ready to follow any orders I give them. They follow me as I exit the warehouse into the streets of the slums. Residents scatter through the streets in search of safety at the sight of my manifested mental illness.
I cant help but remember my newfound struggle since the Paper Mill shut down. Going day to day wondering if I would eat. Hoping the weather would show mercy during cold nights.
It's been two months since the closure. I've been helpless since then, searching dumpsters for whatever scraps I could find. I see myself in these people.
Ambition and hope bubbles up inside me as manie begins to settle in. I can help them. I WILL help them. I think I know just where to start.