Don't Make Deals With A Sandman

DON'T MAKE DEALS WITH THE SAND MAN

Yes, he exists; or rather they, exist. The silly rumor of a Sand Man sprinkling sand in your eyes to help you sleep is probably exactly what they want you to think. They want you to think there is a mythical, jolly man running around helping children sleep at night. They want you to believe that he is whimsical, like the Tooth Fairy. It's easy to fool someone that trusts you. It's much more fun to exploit the misunderstanding of believing something can do no harm, when in reality, it can leave you stripped of everything you have ever loved. It can remove everything you have ever known from your world.

Regret plagues my mind every day since that final night. I don’t know why I believed him. I still can’t understand. But I can’t turn back. I can’t go back to whatever there was before the Sandman became a part of me. I've always been a calculated man, someone who may have thought too much about everything. The first night I was visited I remained that man, but the temptation - the promises - well, they can change you. I wish so badly that I never got involved in this. I want to go back and change everything.. so badly - but I can't. That wasn't any part of the deal.

THE SALESMAN

"Hello friends," The man said from afar, with an unfamiliar accent. He was outside of what looked like an abandoned building, tucked neatly away from the commotion of NYC. With an array of objects on a long table, he used my curiosities to draw me in. His black fedora was tilted downwards, and I couldn't see the top half of his face. It seemed awfully peculiar, even for the city. It looked like he had things for sale, maybe some arts and crafts or something. As we got closer, a feeling I still cannot quite describe started to come over me. It was something I had never felt before- it was as if our bodies were walking us over before our brains could decide if we even wanted to.

He clearly wasn't from around here, or this country for that matter. He was still looking down, with a teeth-baring smile - it was all his hat would reveal at this angle. There was an immediate unsettling vibe, and despite being turned off by this I was still interested in what he had to say. It felt as if this man knew me already, as if he knew me better than I knew myself. The table he was standing behind looked like it was carved out of black obsidian and was filled with all kinds of things that struck our attention. The pale man popped his fedora upright with a confident flick of his index finger.

"What if I told you that each of these little toys here are filled with energy? Would you believe me?" he asked, still grinning. He looked unnaturally calm, yet eager. He was a paradox - filled with intensity, yet very restrained. His eyes were a pure black. The contrast from the whites of the sclera had me hypnotized. I couldn't tell if the man had no pupils, or no iris. He wore a perfectly tailored, all black suit, with cuff links so bright and clear that when they caught the sunlight, they made me wince. They must have cost thousands. His tie was tucked neatly into his suit jacket and was a deep, dark red, as if stained with blood.

"Well, I'd say that is probably bullshit," I said to my wife with a chuckle. I was interested, but I wasn't going to just roll over on some cheesy sales pitch.

"I'm sure you would, sir, but let me please explain. I bring to you the energy of mythical creatures and entities. Ancient beings with such power. Fragments of their energies and powers reside within these vessels.”

“Oooohh, is it that easy to buy a genie these days?” I said flatly.

“Do you have children? Perhaps you are interested in something fairly light, like the pleasantries of Saint Nick?" He pointed to a small, beautifully painted present that you would find under a Christmas tree.

"With this, Santa will keep a much closer eye on your little ones. He does exist, you know. He watches us all," the man spoke with a sincere tone now. I looked up from the gift box to see his eyes intently fixed on me. I could swear the black inside of his eyes were pulsating, as if focusing on me like a camera lens. He picked up the present.

"The thing about Santa Claus is that really he only comes to visit the very special ones. He is greatly misunderstood, as is all of the other powerful beings you all claim to know."

“We haven’t claimed to know anybody,” My wife scrunched up her nose. She almost looked offended. He placed the gift back down where it was and slowly ran his fingers along it until his hand was back at his side. His finger nails seemed a bit sharp - it was unnatural and almost seemed intentional.

"Over here we have an interesting item for the more daring customer - a dybbuk box." He said and strolled to the other side of the table. He extended his arm to point to a relatively small box, although this was by far the largest item on the table. It took up a third of its space and was hauntingly cold in appearance. It was made of a dark brown wood, with a large, black handle on each of the two cabinet doors.

My wife looked at me with unease. She very quietly whispered to me, "I know about these. I heard that if you come into possession of a dybbuk box you are cursed with bad luck. There's one that Posty recently-"

"That's right! But many people do not believe in luck, or curses, and need to prove to everyone that they aren't true. I love those kinds of customers!" He cut her off again. The man's smile was growing, the ends of his mouth coming awfully close to his earlobes.

“Sam don’t feed into this guy.”

“Aww, why? You too big and bad to have a little fun? Lighten up, buttercup.” She nudged my side.

“No, I just think he’s a bit of a creep and maybe we should just get out of here.”

Was I convincing my wife, or myself? I still wonder.

Suddenly I knew what pulled me here. There it was: a small, burlap sack tied with a golden string. It sat neatly placed in the center of the table and seemed to be leaking a sort of very fine-grained, golden sand. I reached over and slid my finger through the dusty sand. I heard a giggle from the behind the table - it reminded me of some giddy school girl's laugh. I furrowed my brow and looked up at the man. Every single tooth in this man's head was revealed in his shit-eating grin. I noticed now, too, that his teeth were a bit sharper than they should be.

I suddenly remembered the sign that stood next to the table. I was too far away to read it when we were walking initially, and Mr. Suit and Tie stole the show as soon as we got close enough. I totally forgot to look back and read it. In bold, capital letters, it read:

“DO NOT TOUCH ANY OF THE ITEMS.

TOUCH, AND TAKE SOMETHING HOME.”

"He likes you. This is a bag of sand from a Sand Man. This particular one has already found an interest in you! Take the bag, Rich, or don't - it doesn't matter at this point. He has found a new vessel," He said in between his laughs.

"Hey.” I paused, “how do you know my name?" I asked softly, scared and confused. I felt played; betrayed by a stranger who was looking more and more like the devil himself. That unsettling vibe I felt from the beginning turned into nausea and terror. I became hyper-aware and sensitive to my surroundings. I realized that from the moment I touched the sand, everything else around me had stopped except for me and the salesman. Time stood still, the sounds of the city went silent, and only the animations of the two of us remained. I turned to see my wife, frozen along with everything else, with a look of fear as she faced the sign I just read a moment ago.

"That’s neither here or there," he said snidely, "but he will come to you when you sleep. He likes to make deals way more than I do. I only tempt the human race, but a Sand Man, they love to persuade. They like getting their hands dirty. It’s against the rules for me, I’m afraid. So be ready to bargain - they don't take no for an answer."

He paused, as if waiting for me to take it all in. He was slowly leaning towards me over the table, so close in fact that I remember smelling his breath. It was smoky. I smelt burnt flesh.

"Well, all sales are final, and as the sign says: if you touch, you take something home. Have a nice day and a safe flight home!"

We did have to catch and red-eye flight back home. My wife and I were there for vacation and that was our last night. My boss called me earlier that morning to ask a “favor” and come back early. A co-worker was ill. They had no one to fill the spot. Vacation was ending swell.

I confirmed in my mind what may have been evident all along, that whoever this man, or thing is - he was not human. His eyes burned from the devoid black to a fiery red, and in that instant - it all vanished. The man, the table and everything on it was all gone. It all was as if it never existed if we didn't experience it, except for the sign. Although, now the sign read:

“TAKE HIM HOME.”

The city came back to life in a bang. My wife nudged my arm a bit too hard and said, "Rich, wait, don't touch that - look at the sign!" She cocked her head to side, "Wait, that isn't what it said. What the fuck just happened? Where did everything go?”

“Well yanno, I didn’t expect anything like that to happen,” I threw my hands up in defense.

“It’s because you touched that bag, isn’t it!”

“You saw it! it was glistening! It was beautiful, it’s like it called out to me. And you don’t even know the half of it because you froze in time like a god damned stone when I touched it. You and everything else stopped in an instant.”

“Yea, I saw it. But I didn’t feel the need to go grab it, Rich. It’s sand for fuck’s sake. Of all the crazy shit that guy had on his table, you felt compelled to touch some sand. Now what do we do, just forget it ever happened”

“I’m not sure what to make of it, but I refuse to believe that we’ve just had some supernatural encounter or something. This is some crazy bullshit prank and for all I know, you were a part of it.” I knew I was being unreasonable. I just couldn’t come to terms with it. I couldn’t wrap my mind around the fact that I had lived this very normal life, doing very normal things, to questioning my own sanity over a fucking bag of sand.

“OK Rich. I’m the new David Blaine. Welcome to my show. Be amazed,” Sam said sarcastically. She glared at me with a warning that I better bite my tongue. I obliged.

THE FIRST ENCOUNTER

When we boarded the plane to head back home, everything just felt off. I remember feeling heavy, like I was carrying something deep within me. I was trying to convince myself that none of this really happened, even though I knew in my heart that this was all too real. It was a 1:03AM departure time back to Charleston, South Carolina. We didn’t sleep at all before hand – one could wonder why.

I found my seat right next to my wife. I was in the middle seat, because Sam always got the window. It was our little agreement since she hated flying and I loved to travel. She liked being tucked away, with a window to the world. It made her feel a little safer knowing what was going on outside.

I hated that middle seat. You were always next to someone with no airplane etiquette, and always too big for their seat. They always ordered the smelly airplane food and always leaned to your side when they took a nap. I always had to pee – and they were always sleeping. Go figure. I already had to go and the flight hadn’t even taken off yet.

“Excuse me, do you mind? I just have to pass by quick to use the bathroom,” I reluctantly asked the rather large woman beside me. She pulled her knees in as much as she could. I sidestepped over her and walked down the aisle to the bathroom.

“Thank God this flight isn’t long,” I sighed, thinking to myself.

I stepped inside the bathroom in the plane. I flicked the light on, did my business and flushed. I turned to the sink and went to wash my hands. I noticed a glimmer running along my index finger down to my thumb. It looked like sand. I gasped. I threw my hand under the warm water and rubbed it off. It shimmered as it combined with the water and swirled down the drain. I felt a jump in the pit of my stomach, as if my instincts were telling me to be on high alert. I took a deep breath, grabbed a paper towel and dried my hands.

I looked in the mirror to give myself the “You’re OK” nod, but I wasn’t. There was more of that glistening gold sand, but this time it was behind me – in the woven shape of a man – and it had its arm outstretched around my shoulder.

I threw my arms around violently to shake it away. The sand disintegrated into thin air. I busted through the bathroom door as fast as I could possibly could, only to be stared at by a fully occupied plane of tired passengers. I felt everyone’s eyes on me, judging, as I walked back to my seat thin-lipped with embarrassment.

“You alright?” Sam asked, concerned.

“Yeah, yeah I’m okay. I just need to get some sleep.” I tried to shrug it off. I hadn’t slept in a while. I thought maybe my mind was playing tricks on me. I rested my head back against the seat and pulled the drawstring of my hoodie, so my hood was tight against my head. I closed my eyes.

Lightning shattered the sky as it struck the earth before me. Thunder erupted in a deafening roar, so violent that it rattled my ears. It was pitch black. Each successive bolt of lightning lit up the area around me like a strobe light. Thick gray fog swarmed all around me. I could feel the cold moisture seeping into my skin, suffocating me. I realized I was no longer on the plane.

Another lightning strike came down, and the fog dissipated. In the distance I could make out a small black figure. It seemed to be staring right at me. It seemed small, almost too small to be real – but with the next strike it became a bit larger. The next strike revealed the black figure even larger again, and this time it was moving. It was coming for me, dragging its feet, inching closer and closer in this electric vortex of cold nothingness. I could hear the scraping of its feet against the concrete. The static energy surrounding me pulsated as it tugged on my skin.

One more flash of light revealed a tall, skinny black humanoid figure towering over me. Goosebumps came over my entire body. It must have been eight or nine feet tall, with dry, dead skin made of pure darkness. It was as if all color was sucked out of its body. It looked emaciated, except for its bloated, distended belly testing the limits of its flesh. Its arms hung dramatically all the way down to its feet. They dragged along the gray, cracked concrete as it inched closer and closer towards where I was standing.

I didn’t move.

I’m not sure why but I stood my ground. Maybe it was fear? My mind was screaming at me to run, but where? Where do you run when there is nowhere to run to? The storm subsided as the creature finally came close enough where I could see its face. It had no eyes. It had no nose. There were no ears. There was nothing but old, dry, dead black skin tightly wrapped around its head almost like paper. I could see what looked like staples holding it in place. Its mouth hung open in an eternal scream which revealed only a deeper blackness inside. It extended its arms out from its sides.

“Embrace me.”

Its mouth didn’t move. It was a voice coming from inside my own head. It sounded like it was coming out of a long metal tube, but gravelly and wet. It was almost as if it had too much spit in its mouth, like it was salivating at the idea of finding a new person to torment.

“This is your reality now. You will obey me. I will come to know all your fears. I will come to know of all that you love.”

The thing stepped closer to me, inches away from my face. I could hear faint screams coming from way down its throat as its jaw hung down. I could hear heavy breathing between every few words from deep within my skull.

“I will be in your dreams. I am a part of your mind. You will never be alone now. You will learn quickly because I am impatient. I will ask things of you and you will agree. You will do what I want and give me what I want.”

I felt one of its hands wrap tightly around the entirety of the top of my head.

“I will allow you to go back to your world, but it begins tomorrow night. I will give you a task and you will complete that task. If you do not, you will understand why that is never wise.”

The hand clamped down like a vice and I heard my skull crack like an egg. The pain was overwhelming. I heard it laughing maniacally over my screams.

In an instant I was back in my seat on the plane, gasping for air. I ran my hands all over my head, making sure it was still intact and that its contents weren’t spilling out of all my orifices. Everything was in place, except for the oddly dark and dead flight attendant at the front of the plane, jaw hanging low, giving me a wave with a flutter of its fingers.

Submitted March 04, 2019 at 11:10PM by NewUnknowns https://ift.tt/2EPdpa1