Arthur was still in his room. Playing. He didn't even notice I had entered. He finally noticed and took a quick glance at me, then back at his game. He said while still completely engrossed in his game, "What?" I stood there for a second longer than needed, as if I expected something else to happen, as if the moment would correct itself if I waited. Nothing did. He was just Arthur—annoyed, focused, alive in the simplest way possible—and that normalcy felt heavier than anything else I had experienced today. It wasn't comforting. It was almost unreal, like something fragile pretending to be stable.
"It's nothing," I said, and my voice sounded normal. Too normal. The kind of normal that doesn't ask questions, that doesn't challenge anything. He shrugged without really listening and returned to whatever was happening on his screen, his fingers moving quickly, confidently, like the world outside didn't exist for him. I stayed for another moment, watching him, making sure—though I didn't know what I was checking for—then I turned and left the room. A part of me didn't want to leave. Not because I needed him, but because leaving meant being alone again.
I closed the door slowly, careful not to make noise, and stood in the hallway. The house was quiet. Not silent, but quiet in a way that felt full, like something had settled into it without being seen. I waited there, listening, half expecting something to follow me, something to repeat itself, something that shouldn't exist. Nothing came. Only the distant clicking of Arthur's keyboard and the faint hum of the refrigerator downstairs. Ordinary sounds. Safe sounds. But they didn't feel safe.
I went down the stairs the normal way this time. Facing forward. Each step felt heavier than it should, not because I was tired, but because I was aware of them. I was expecting that thing to appear again. That thing to haunt me. I didn't want that. Never. But I don't know why I was still expecting it. It was like my mind had already accepted that something like that could exist. The way my foot touched the step, the slight sound it made, the small shift of balance—it all felt too clear, like my body was reminding me it still belonged to me. Or maybe warning me that it might not.
I reached the living room and looked at the television again. It was still off. Completely black. The screen reflected the room faintly, but there was nothing there besides the sofa, the table, and me. I stood there longer than I should have, staring, waiting for something to appear, something to move, something to prove that what I saw earlier had a shape that could return. Something that could confirm it wasn't just in my head.
Nothing did.
I sat down slowly. The same spot. The same position. I noticed it immediately and shifted a little, not because it mattered, but because I didn't want it to feel like I was repeating something exactly. Just like when you do a certain ritual expecting a certain outcome. I was the complete opposite of it. I didn't want repetition. I didn't want patterns. That thought stayed with me longer than it should have. Why did it matter? Why did I care about repeating something that simple? Why did it feel like repeating it would bring something back?
My chest felt… normal. The heavy feeling from before had faded. The warmth was still there, faint but present, like something quiet instead of something strong. It didn't disturb me. That was the problem. It should have. Something like that shouldn't feel normal. But it did. And that made it worse.
I leaned back and stared at the ceiling. It looked the same. The same cracks, the same faint discoloration near the corner. I had seen it a hundred times before, maybe more, but now I was looking at it like I was trying to memorize it, like it could disappear if I stopped paying attention. Like everything else.
I was constantly trying to force myself not to remember the events that happened. Not because I couldn't think of that entity. It was not because it resembled the strange condition of the two men I met today. I could remember that entity without any pain. That was the strange part. I just didn't want to. The thing that happened today… I think this has scarred me for life. That thought came naturally. Too naturally. As if something wanted me to accept that conclusion quickly.
"That didn't happen."
The thought came suddenly. Clear. Simple. Easy. Too easy.
I stayed still.
"That didn't happen."
I repeated it in my head, not because I believed it, but because it sounded right. It sounded like something I should think. Something I should accept without questioning.
I let out a small breath. "Yeah," I muttered quietly. "That didn't happen." Saying it out loud made it feel more real, even though a part of me resisted it. Not strongly. Not enough to argue. Just enough to exist quietly in the background.
I picked up my phone again. The screen lit up immediately, the brightness sharper than before. I scrolled without looking at anything specific, just moving through things. Messages. Videos. Random posts. None of it stayed in my mind. It was just movement, just something to fill space. I was trying to search things that happened today. Any similar incidents. That entity. Anything even remotely close. I found all kinds of things. Just not what I was looking for. Or maybe I didn't know what I was looking for.
The fatigue was catching up to me. Too much happened today. Too much that didn't make sense.
Time passed. I don't know how much.
At some point, I stood up and turned off the lights. The room dimmed instantly, the darkness settling naturally, without resistance. I looked at the television one last time. Still nothing. Just a reflection. Just me.
I went upstairs.
Arthur's door was still slightly open. I looked inside as I passed. He was still there. Still playing. Still normal. That word again. Normal. It kept repeating in my head, not as a comfort, but as something I needed to confirm again and again, like if I stopped confirming it, it would stop being true.
I went into my room and closed the door behind me. The click sounded louder than usual. I stood there for a moment, then moved to the bed and sat down. My body felt tired, but my mind wasn't. Not really. It was quiet. Too quiet. The kind of quiet that doesn't belong to rest.
20 October 2019
11:37 pm
(I still can't believe this is the same day that I started 15 hours ago. Ha! Nobody will believe me even if I tell them.)
I lay down and stared at the ceiling. My ceiling. Different from the one downstairs. Cleaner. Less marked. I focused on it, letting my eyes follow the lines where the walls met, tracing them slowly.
"Don't turn around."
The words came back. Not as a voice. Not as a sound. Just a thought.
I didn't move.
"I didn't turn."
That part mattered. It felt important. Like something depended on it.
"I didn't turn."
I repeated it once more, just to be sure.
My eyes slowly closed.
No. I opened them again, even if I had to force them open. I just couldn't leave Arthur and go to sleep. What if something—No. I quickly threw that thought out of my mind.
I stood up, grabbed my pillow, and went to Arthur's room.
He glanced at me. "Now what?" he said while still on his game.
"Tonight, we are sleeping together. How long before your game ends?" I walked towards his bed and put my pillow on it.
"I'm not a kid anymore, you know? Just go to sleep. It will take me a little more before this ends," he said, still completely immersed in his game.
"I will wait," I said. He glanced at me but didn't say anything.
I waited, scrolling on the Internet, trying to search for similar incidents, but the information was all over the place. And why are there so many alien theories? None of it made sense. None of it matched. My eyes were getting heavier by the minute.
Arthur looked at me, gave out a sigh, and closed his game. He turned off his PC. "Wait a little more," he said as he got up. Maybe going to the kitchen, the toilet, or both. I followed him. Just to keep my eyes on him. That felt unnecessary. But I still did it.
He drank water and went to the toilet. As he came out, he noticed me. "You couldn't wait even a little?" he said with a small snicker.
Hmm. That annoyed me a little.
"You know that I saw a ghost an hour ago in the main room?" I said. "That's why I was trying to keep an eye on you, for you to be safe. But I guess it's not important."
As I said that, I started moving away, pretending to go towards my room.
"Wait!"
I looked at his face. Yeah… he was always scared of these things. Look at him. He's shaking a little, even if he's trying his best to hide it. I guess he is still a small and cute kid.
"Since my big brother asked me so nicely, I can't just leave it. Come on, follow me."
After he said that, he started walking, acting tough. And as soon as we reached his room, he quickly tucked himself under his blanket on the bed.
I switched off the light and also got into the bed, taking the right side. Initially, he was sleeping almost at the edge.
But now, he was slowly moving towards me.
After almost reaching me, he stopped and covered his face.
Now I am on the right side, and he is in the middle, a little closer.
I smiled and patted his head a little. He didn't react. Just stayed still.
I closed my eyes and tried to sleep.
"Oh lord, please just let this day come to an end."
I don't know which god I was asking by saying this. I didn't have a certain one in mind. I just did. Whoever is listening to me.
Sleep didn't come immediately. It stayed just out of reach, like it was waiting for something. Or maybe I was. I don't know.
The last thing I noticed before I finally drifted off was that the warmth in my chest hadn't disappeared.
It had just become quieter.
Like something that didn't need to be noticed anymore.
I slept.
When I woke up, It was next morning. Nothing happened. I slept. That day was finally over. I glanced over. Arthur was still there sleeping peacefully.