Turn Back

I woke up unable to move my body.

At first I thought I was dreaming, the way my room would warp in and out of focus like someone was adjusting a camera lens. But I knew without a doubt that I was fully awake. My body refused to move. I tried to change positions, turn my head, wiggle my fingers, but I couldn’t budge. Down to the marrow of my bones, I was paralyzed.

I begged silently for the nerves in my muscles to come back to life, and I felt sick, prickly­warm panic rise in my throat like bile. I could feel my stomach churning as I desperately tried to control the rapid, expanding nausea. My lungs struggled for each breath, but the air I was gulping down felt toxic, like I was chugging gasoline.

I rolled my eyes in every direction, resting on the figure in the room.

It looked like a man, or the silhouette of one; I wasn’t sure. At this point, I didn’t trust my own mind. Once I saw it, the thing expanded, inching closer to the bed. My room bent at the will of the figure like a black hole, and my throat itched to scream. The thing got closer...

The sound of my own voice broke the silence as I screamed at the top of my lungs. It was so sudden that I scared myself, but it was enough to break the illusion. I sat up so quick that I heard my spine crack at the sudden straightening of my back. Panic burdened my breathing and I gasped and sputtered, drowning in my own overwhelming fear.

I could hear the erratic footsteps of my mum as she ran down the main hall and ripped my bedroom door open, skittered to the side of my bed as she groped my face, dabbing the sweat from my temple with the back of her hand, asking if I was okay.

I couldn’t form thoughts into verbal answers, trying to dull the the panic in my stomach. I wanted to say it was a nightmare, but I wasn’t sure anymore...­­­

“Sleep paralysis is caused by lack of sleep, or a dysfunctional sleeping pattern. Try to gain back sleeping hours a little at a time. Don’t lie on your back; that’ll encourage paralysis. If you are taking medication or have any mental conditions, consider talking to a professional to work out a solution if this continues.”

I stared at the article on my computer screen, relieved to know that there was a name for what was happening to me. I would know how to handle the situation.

A week after, I found I couldn’t move. I was frozen into place, paralyzed down to my toes. I broke out into a cold sweat when I saw the figure lurking in the far corner of my room almost immediately.

Something was different this time. I could see it’s face, but it was veiled by shadows like it was wearing a hood. I tried wiggling small parts of my body like the article suggested, trying to move my toes, one at a time, hoping this nightmare would go away. The thing opened its mouth:

Turn back.

My heart lunged into my throat. The figure was ten feet away, but it’s voice traveled across that distance and whispered in my ear. My heart was beating against my rib cage like it was trying to jump out and escape. I locked eyes on the shadow in the room, afraid if I looked away for a second it would start moving toward me. But it stood completely still, waiting in the corner as if it were plotting something, saying the same thing over and over:Turn back.

I tried wiggling my toes again.
Turn back.
My toe flinched.
Turn back.
Suddenly my body eased out of it’s paralyzed state and I choked on relief I shot up from my bed, shaking like a leaf. I felt like crying.

­­­ I told my mum what had happened that night. She rubbed my back and reminded me that it was only a bad dream. But it kept coming back, more vivid and terrifying than ever. Sometimes the figure would apparate and rush towards me like a cheap jumpscare from an internet video, or walk around as if it were taking inventory on every item and book I owned. I became so mentally fatigued that I would try sleeping in different places, or avoid sleep altogether and drive the car downtown, falling asleep on the side of the road until 5:00 rolled around and I drove back home.

Once I gave in and fell asleep in my own bed for the first time in three weeks, the nightmare came back.

It was much easier to distinguish that the last time. The figure looked five years older than me, with sunken eyes and indented, gaunt cheek bones. They wore a dark hoodie over a plaid shirt. The most unnerving thing wasn’t the fact that their neck was twisted sideways in an unnatural position, but the fact I was looking at myself.TURN BACK.

Those two words resounded in my head, and I was thrown into a traumatic state, thrashing as I broke away from my bed and ran out the room, disoriented. Out of our apartment, down the main stairs that led out the building, I sprinted to the car in my bare feet. I got in and started the engine, adjusting the mirror. I froze when I saw my doppelganger in the back seat, his eyes bulging.

TURN BACK.

I hit the gas and lurched forward, driving maniacally as this mirror image screamed “turn back” over and over in my ears. Insanity ruled over common sense, and before I could stop myself, I turned sharply over a bridge, the car tilted and barrel rolled, and I was weightless for a moment before my head slammed into the ceiling and I felt my neck snap.