The couch housed a being. A body had slumped into the cushion and begun to slump further in.
Daryl couldn’t stand life. Nothing was wrong. The work he did was grand. His social relationships were healthy. However, he failed to see the light in life anymore. At times, it felt as if there was something resting on his shoulder. Something heavy. Something pulling him down. Something watching. Like the monkey resting on ones back.
A shift was made in the couch–Daryl moved to lay down. His feet rested gently on the base of the arm rest, while his head lay on a cushion. His couch was quite large. Closing his eyes, he began to question his quite sudden depression. In the attempt to find the culprit and eradicate it. As Daryl relaxed, he began to feel a tingling on the toes of his left foot. He looked, but nothing was there. Pushing it from his mind, he began searching for answers once more. Once again the tingling occurred. And, once again, nothing. Daryl shifted his foot that held the annoyance away from the edge of the couch. He imagined that someone was tickling his foot in an odd way, but he knew nobody else was home. In fact, he was the only resident. Within the search of answers to his sudden depression, some thoughts came to him. That maybe something he experienced from his past is coming back to birth itself anew into his emotions. To attach itself to his psyche and multiply until something is felt. He remembered his cat, Barley. Barley had died very young and it tore through Daryl. He never got over the death, always blaming himself for it, and it came up every so often. But Daryl didn’t think that was the cause of such severe depression. Memories of Barley flooded his thoughts. The memories that made you smile and tear up. Good remembrances. How Barley would always greet Daryl when he came home. Or, feeding him little bits of sweet desserts when Daryl was in the kitchen. Or, how Barley always slept against Daryl at night–either directly next to him or close by on a neighboring pillow. A smile spread across Daryl’s face. However, as if it was on cue, and as if the good memories led up to this point in a sadistic way, the death of Barley ended the pleasant memories. Like drop of black dye in a clear glass of water. Continue reading Knock Knock pt. 3