Eclipse

When I woke up, the room was dark. I looked around, trying to make sense of where I was. I didn’t remember heading to my bed or even trying to fall asleep. My memory felt hazy, but I recalled being on the balcony, looking at the moon and setting up the camera to photograph the eclipse. I looked towards the doorway; the sky outside glowed with that strange in-between light — neither dusk nor dawn. The air in the room carried a faint, strange perfume, one that reminded me of some palace I’d visited in Europe years ago.

My last thought before this was waiting for the eclipse, and now I was lying in a bed that felt… different. As I tried to get out of the bed, the bed sheet felt silky smooth. I didn’t remember ever owning such exquisite linen.

A sudden sting pulsed at my neck. I reached up instinctively, but the sensation was alien; the texture of my skin felt like nothing I’d touched before. I glanced at my hand; my breath hitched. My own hand, which I’d seen countless times, was now a work of art — pale, flawless, almost marmoreal in its perfection. A cold horror began to creep through me, distracting me from the rhythmic sting in my neck. What had happened to me?

I took a deep breath and raised myself. My eyes were getting used to the dark room. While it appeared similar to my home, this one felt more vibrant, even in the dark. There was a distant hum that I’d never heard before, but the ticking wall-clock was too loud to tune out. My gaze shifted towards it; the arms pointed at 1:00. I looked towards the doorway again, the sky appeared too bright for midnight, yet too dim for day time.

I stumbled to the bathroom, catching my reflection in the mirror. My eyes, normally a dull brown, were now a molten gold that shimmered in the faint light. A strange thirst gnawed at me, accompanied by a lingering haze - like a hangover, but deeper.

I stumbled back to the fridge. As I opened the door, the light inside burst forth like a supernova, but my eyes adapted instantly. I drank greedily from the bottle, the water soothing something deep inside of me. The headache dulled, but the ache in my neck remained; a rhythmic pulse, akin to a second heartbeat.

I pressed the spot gently and head towards the balcony. My time-lapse camera was still clicking away, undisturbed. Above the door-frame, the BTS camera remained fixed. I retrieved it and went towards my computer. I quickly glanced at the clock on my desktop, 1:15 am, as I connected the camera to transfer the footage, unsure what I was hoping to find. My memory was still fractured, just fragments leading up to the set up, then nothing.

The footage began innocently. I was adjusting the frame, speaking to the camera. Then came a sound so soft, like a whisper of wind. I paused, puzzled. A flicker in the corner of the frame. I turned towards it.

And then it happened.

Something lunged, biting deep into my neck. I went limp in its arms. It held me gently, almost reverently. After a moment, it raised its head and smiled into the lens. A wink. Then it carried me inside.Fifteen minutes passed.The creature returned to the balcony just as the camera clicked another photo. It looked into the lens and whispered, “Pretty.” Then its gaze lifted to the moon, transfixed as the eclipse began.As the next shutter clicked, it seemed to dissolve into the night air.I sat there, frozen, the video clip replaying in my mind. The rhythmic pulse in my neck suddenly felt less like a wound and more like a new, terrible beginning.