03 "The Voice in Your Head"

        This is a story I wasn't meant to write. Now, I know this sounds ominous, but let me explain. As the day started, everything was absolutely normal. Everything in my bedroom was just as I had left it. The sounds were normal, the smells were normal. I even spoke something rather random so that I could verify that my voice was normal. This, however, was abnormal. Why was I so concerned with everything being so normal? What was up with the sudden feeling like something might be off?

Was there something off? Everything around me seemed like it was. Maybe I was starting to lose my mind. Maybe the dreams I had last night felt too realistic, and I needed to ground myself. But what did I even dream about last night? This question lingered in my head as I made my way to the bathroom to freshen up for the oncoming day. But as the thought lingered, I realized I don't remember dreaming. That was normal, of course. People rarely remember their dreams.

They do, however, remember being asleep. So why didn't I?

I made my way to the kitchen to brew some coffee. I opened my cabinet and found the canister of coffee grounds. It was on the second shelf. It had always been on the second shelf, right? I scooped some coffee grounds into one of those white filters and put it in the coffee maker. I poured some water inside and started it up. There was the familiar crackling as it started heating up the water. That familiar smell of hot and fresh coffee floated through the air. Everything was normal.

It was all normal, right?

I mean, everything felt so familiar. It felt like home. It felt like I was going through my daily routine. There was no off feelings whatsoever floating around me. There was nothing out of place that made me raise an eyebrow. And yet, there was that tiny voice in the back of my head that wouldn't relent. Everything felt too normal.

Is that even a thing? Too normal? I mean, that's what the uncanny valley is, right? Something that is too normal to the point where it becomes unsettling?

But, again, I had to remind myself that everything was fine. But yet it wasn't. I mean, as all of these thoughts were swirling around my head, my body never reacted to any of it. My body remained calm. Smiling. Looking out the window and watching the world go by as normal. I heard the coffee pot beeping, and that took me out of my mind for a while.

I grabbed a cup, filled it up, added a few sugars and some creamer, and stirred.

Then, I turned my head to the living room. I paused for a moment. I saw a black figure. It looked like a large, yet slender dog that was slowly approaching the room. It turned its head to look at me. Was that smoke coming off its body? It let out a low growl. I gave it a gentle wave and a smile and turned away from it.

Why did I do that?

A look of confusion lingered in my mind, but never translated to my joyful face. I took a sip of my coffee. Then, I turned back to the living room. The creature was gone. Where did it go? I wanted desperately to look everywhere, to hunt down this horrifying thing that was just in my house, but my body wouldn't comply. I tried as hard as I could fighting against my own body to just stop walking as it made its way to the couch to sit down before the television.

I struggled and struggled against my own body, but it was no use. I couldn't even get as far as making a muscle flex, even in the slightest. I was terrified at this point. Did that creature do something to me? Is it the one puppeteering my body? No, that couldn't be the case. Right? I mean, that creature looked evil. If it were making me do things, it would have done some kind of harm to me, right? Isn't that what monsters do?

"Oh, my head is feeling restless again," I heard the words escaping my lips. Why would I say that? I mean, I am freaking out. And I am thinking in this body, pretty loudly, in fact. I felt my body set the coffee cup down on the table before me and stand to my feet. My body walked over to my computer, and my fingers rested on my keyboard. Has the computer been on this whole time? I never turned it on. I don't think I did, did I?

Suddenly, I was able to move my hands. I tried to move my arms back, to stand to my feet, but my body wasn't budging. Only my hands.

"Stop fighting yourself," my voice said aloud. "I'm giving you the freedom to type. Why are you struggling so much? Why are you so loud? I want to know!"

I felt the strangest shift in my mind. Before, the only way I could describe myself was a voice free-floating in the back of my mind, free to wander and think. But now it was different, entirely uncomfortable. It was like my mind was like a tube of toothpaste, being squeezed of every last drop. But instead of toothpaste, it was my mind. My thoughts. My memories. Squeezed out of me as my hands started to type vigorously on my keyboard. Everything I had thought over the last 10 minutes or so, from waking up all the way until now. It was all pouring out of me like that tube of toothpaste. Squeezed out of me. Until all my memories, all my thoughts were on the screen.