I’m more and more tired. I’m still having the nightmares, and they just get more and more intense. Now I see Uncle Phil mocking me, just like his own reflection was mocking him. And then the nightmare gets fractured, like I am seeing two versions of it. In the other version, Uncle Phil is pleading, begging me to help him. He’s become this shell of a man, terrorised, locked forever in the mirror.
When I wake up, I am in such a panic that I stifle a scream in my pillow. I am clammy with sweat and my heart won’t slow down.
I gaze towards my bedroom mirror and approach it cautiously, like I did the other day. But it is only me in the mirror, although I do look a mess... I know I am being silly but I feel the need to cover it off. So I take the sheet off my bed and hide my reflection behind it. I don't know why, but I immediately feel safer...
It is the early hours of the morning, and the house is silent, but any little creak is making me jump. I am on edge. So very underslept. I hate everything right now, especially those bloody tapes. But I have this urgent need to keep going.
The next tape is ‘Oct 28th 1949 - Night’. Here is the converted version.
Uncle Phil says the mocking continues. That the reflection is becoming more and more like himself. It even stole some of his clothes from his wardrobe and left its dirty old rags in their stead. He sounds terrified.
I am terrified… I sit at my desk, for hours, in silence, just staring at the rags on my desk.
I don’t know what to believe anymore.
Dad eventually knocks softly at my door, and I wake from my stupor. It’s like I’ve been catatonic… The sun is up and has been for a while. I look at my desk and it is 11am.
Dad: “You ok, kiddo? I wanted to give you your space, but you missed breakfast and I haven’t heard a movement in your room at all.”
Me: “Yeah.. Sorry.. I’m good. Just… tired.”
I just couldn’t talk to him about my doubts. Like that would make my fears become real somehow. I just couldn’t unload myself onto him.
Dad: “Well, here is a sandwich and water. When you’re done with them, you should go have a nap”
He does not leave the room until he’s seen me eat the sandwich whole and finish the glass of water. Satisfied, he returns downstairs. I ate but the sandwich had no taste to me, the water, not quenching my thirst. It is like I am desperately feeling my body’s need for food, water and rest, but I do feel like eating, drinking and sleeping.
I feel the need, but I cannot satisfy it. I don’t know if I am making much sense…
I lie on my bed, unable to sleep but so tired, and my mind wanders back to dad and how I have been treating him the past couple of days… I feel horrible. I’ve been so short with him. And now he is worrying over me. I should be the one taking care of him, and now I have become a burden…
It almost broke my heart when he left the room. Like I was now alone for good.
Next instalment 29th October
The Westerly Tapes is a Halloween Horror by Julia Mersobian and Nathan Schulz, for The Drama Merchant, based on the short story by Paul Compton.
The voice of Westerly is performed by Kent Lee
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