This happens to me sometimes; I was lying in bed and I got this awful feeling… I was sure that the moment I turned on my light there was going to be a stone angel in my doorway reaching for me. I’m for some reason horrified by statues, especially of angels, especially of weeping angels with their eyes covered. I was so positive that there was an evil, horrible weeping angel after me that I was curling under my sheets. I was scared to turn on the light because I was so sure it was going to be there, and if it was, what would I do? Scream probably, and then what? I could feel the scream rising in my throat as I went to turn on my light. I expected a horrifying angel to be standing there in my door frame. There wasn’t, of course, but I was so sure.
It’s little things like that that frighten me most. All it was, really, was a tiny barely perceivable change of feeling in my room. Suddenly, that comfortable darkness had turned into something completely unbearable.
Which is why I believe, and this seems silly I’m sure, that when you turn your back or blink, things, inanimate objects mostly, move and change. I honestly believe that things you thought immobile shift. Even if just the slightest bit. They change and come to life just for that moment you’re not looking. It’s those movements that you see out of the corner of your eye and logically know that nothing could have moved, but you’re sure something did. The change is so small, so Imperceivable that you don’t even quite recognize it as a change but you just know that something is off, something is different. Something has become inherently wrong. It’s scary, in that way, to not know exactly what’s wrong, just to know that it’s… definitely something.
This happens with people too. There’s a moment when you realize, suddenly, that your best friend is no longer your best friend. You still call each other that, but your relationship is different than it was. So different, in fact, that you can hardly recognize where you started from. You look back and think, “how did we get here? What happened?” And you’re left wondering. It was all those tiny changes along the way that you didn’t even notice at the time, and now seem like giant chasms that you could never possibly leap over. The other side is too far away; the bottom barely visible. Suddenly you’re standing alone on the far side of a canyon.
There’s no way of stopping them, those minuscule changes you never see, and no turning back once they’ve happened.
That statue is slowly moving towards you when you turn your back; that friend you thought you’d never loose is slowly slipping away. And you don’t even notice until it’s too late.
Those impossible changes are what scare me the most. I’m afraid of blinking and seeing that angel’s pinkie finger is slightly more crooked. I’m terrified of waking up and seeing that statue a foot closer than I remembered. I find it heart stopping to think that someday, something I think of as a constant won’t be anymore. It horrifies me to think that someday I could look across that canyon and see someone I don’t even recognize. The worst part of it all is not knowing how it happened.
I believe in tiny, un-noticed changes that end up changing everything before you know it
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