Impossible Proportions

The word Impossible usually arouses humanity's infinite capacity of fascination, and sparks bravery within those galant enough to challange 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 frightiningly empty eyes; two white pools, which no longer existed.

It would only make sense to begin from the very beggining of all of this. It was late at night. I was on the internet, searching through the vast collection of "funny" vidoes on YouTube. I heard my front door open, assuming it was my mother whom had gone to the gym, leaving me alone at home. I heard its thumping footsteps proceeding like those of a normal human being's, 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 to believe 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 5 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 lightswitch, and turned off the light. I then returned to sitting on my bed, with my laptop and I heard the knob of 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 sporradic breathing patterns, and it seemed to stiffle 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 icredibly 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 a 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.