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If a Tree Falls

A Horror Story

By Tyler C ClarkPublished 2 years ago 17 min read
Second Place in Return of the Night Owl Challenge
66
If a Tree Falls
Photo by Andre Mouton on Unsplash

Day 1

“I keep losing things.”

Sean felt uncomfortable sitting on this sofa. It was situated too low to the ground and its cushions were hard and flat. Sean’s therapist, Peter, sat in an office chair across from him with a notepad on his lap.

“Can you give me an example?” Peter asked.

“I lost my driver’s license. That’s why I have to take the bus here. And then I lost my wedding ring. It’s the second ring I’ve lost since we got married.”

“Why do you think you’re losing things?”

The sofa Sean sat on in Peter’s office was lower to the ground than Peter’s chair, and Peter was a full head taller than him. The combined effect was that Peter towered over Sean, looking down at him whenever they made eye contact.

“I don’t know,” Sean said, looking at the ground. “I feel super scatter-brained. The other day somebody asked me how old I was and I genuinely couldn’t remember. Like, for the life of me I couldn’t remember if I was 33 or 34. I knew it was one of those, but—” Sean shrugged. “That ever happen to you?”

“Mmm-hmm,” Peter said, writing something down on his notepad that Sean couldn’t see. “How long has it been since you lost your job?”

“It’s been almost a year.”

“Wow. How are you holding up?”

“You mean financially, or…?” Sean left the question hanging.

“Either way.”

Sean took in a deep breath and let out all at once. “I’m completely out of money. My wife barely supports us on her teacher’s salary. Beyond that, I don’t know. I feel like I can’t afford to worry about anything else.”

“So, correct me if I’m wrong. After you lost your job, you started misplacing important items of yours and forgetting things?”

“Yeah.” Sean nodded.

“That’s really hard. To feel like you’re losing control.”

“Yeah, exactly.”

“Can you name a few things in your life you can control?”

Sean turned that question over in his mind for a moment.

“I’m in control of some things, I guess,” Sean conceded. “Like how I treat people or how I react to things.”

“This next week,” Peter said in that tone that said their time was up. “I’d like you to focus on those things you do have control over. When we meet again next Wednesday, we’ll talk about it.”

***

That night, Sean had a dream. In Sean’s dream, he was lost. He wandered the streets of a suburb. Lights were on in all the houses, but no one answered their doors. No matter how far he walked, he was always in the same labyrinthian suburb, unable to enter any houses. There was no way out.

After what felt like hours of wandering, he heard the shriek of an owl behind him. He turned to see a large barn owl gliding slowly down the street directly at his face.

He couldn’t move.

As the owl approached, it extended its talons. Sean knew the dream would end right before those talons touched his face. That’s how dreams worked.

Then the owl tore into his face, clawing and pecking at his eyes. He could feel his flesh tearing. Blood oozed down his cheeks. He screamed. He tried to move, tried to wake up, but his arms were locked to his sides. After the owl plucked out his eyes, it launched itself off his face and flew off, leaving him blind and stranded.

Sean woke up screaming. His throat was painfully hoarse and dry as though he’d been screaming all night. He looked over at Ramona, his wife. She was sound asleep. Somehow she’d slept through his screaming.

Sean got up to wash his face. His eyes hurt. He didn’t sleep the rest of the night.

Day 2

Sean worked from his laptop in a crowded cafe. People worked from their laptops all around him, coveting the few available outlets. He updated a spreadsheet of all the jobs he’d applied for since getting fired the previous year, adding another couple entries to the list. The number of applications he’d submitted since getting fired from his last job stretched into the hundreds with only a handful of responses and even fewer interviews. The absolute silence in response to so many job applications made him feel invisible.

Sean rubbed his eyes. They were still sore. His mind reached for a logical explanation to the pain he felt in his dream that lingered into wakefulness. After a few search engine results, he concluded that he was experiencing some kind of psychosomatic illness induced by stress and anxiety. Another thing to bring up in therapy, he thought.

“Matcha tea latte for Sean!” the barista called.

Sean walked to the counter, thanked the barista, then returned to his seat.

His laptop was gone.

“Wha—” Sean stammered.

His backpack was gone, too. And his phone. Everything that was at this table a moment ago.

“My stuff is gone. My stuff is gone!” Sean said.

No one seemed to acknowledge his outburst.

“Did you see who took my stuff?” Sean asked the person sitting nearest to him, a young student, most likely, with thick glasses and headphones. He looked at Sean with surprise and shook his head.

“Excuse me,” he asked a middle-aged woman on her phone with tawny hair.

She flinched when Sean spoke to her as though she hadn’t noticed him before.

“My stuff was right here a second ago. Did you see who took it?”

“No, I wasn’t watching your stuff.”

People were staring at him now. No one had seen his things. Unsure of what else to do, Sean ran out to the street, asking passersby if they’d seen anyone take off with a stolen laptop.

Laptop-less, phone-less, and defeated, Sean gave up and walked home.

Day 3

“I’m not buying you a whole new computer,” Ramona said. She stood with her arms crossed.

“I’m not asking you to,” Sean said. “I’m just telling you what happened.”

“Did you file a police report?”

“I couldn’t call the police. My phone was stolen.”

“You could have asked somebody else to call the police.”

“What is a police officer going to do? They’re just going to tell me what I already know — that my laptop and phone are gone for good. What’s the point of talking to them?”

Ramona bit her lip and shook her head.

“Can I tell you something?” Sean said. “I’ve been having this really bad feeling. It feels like I’m losing control of everything—like I’m about to disappear.”

“Have you been talking to your therapist about it?”

“Yeah, but I swear it’s getting worse.”

Ramona grunted. “If therapy isn’t helping, then I don’t want to keep paying for it.”

“I’m just trying to tell you how I feel.”

“Well, maybe what you really need to do is start acting like a man!”

“That’s not fair.”

“No. You know what’s not fair? Me having to support your broke ass. I didn’t sign up for this. What happened to your six-figures job? What happened to the 97-percent employment rate for people with your kind of degree? Of course I get stuck with the guy that makes up that three percent with no job! I can’t do this anymore, Sean.”

***

Sean slept on the couch that night. As he lay there staring at the ceiling wrapped in a thin throw blanket that barely kept him warm, he thought about his options and where he might go from here. There was a career center he hadn’t tried yet, and a couple more job positions on his radar he’d apply to the next day.

Sean fell asleep with a swarm of anxieties buzzing in his brain. In his dreams, he was back in that suburban maze full of cookie-cutter houses he couldn’t enter.

Sean wandered this landscape for hours.

He flinched when he spotted the barn owl again. It stood on the hood of a sedan, pecking at a field mouse trapped under its foot. The owl made eye contact with him. He braced himself to run in case the owl came after his eyes again, but this time the owl only watched him.

After a long minute, the owl opened its beak and spoke. In a deep feminine voice the owl said the word, “Nobody.”

Sean felt a chill descend from his head and down his spine like someone had poured cold water down the back of his shirt.

He felt one of his front teeth come loose and fall out of his mouth and into his open palm. With shouts and moans of alarm, each one of Sean’s teeth dislodged itself in his mouth and fell in a bloody heap in his hands.

Day 4

The dream was so visceral that Sean checked each of his teeth the next morning, relieved to find them all intact.

Later, while running errands, Sean exited a supermarket to see a barn owl perched on the railing of a shopping corral.

“Excuse me,” Sean said to a stranger. “Can you see that bird?”

The stranger didn’t respond or even acknowledge him. Sean tried another person.

“Excuse me, sir! Can you see that bird right there?”

No one would even look at him. The owl hooted.

“I see it,” a voice said from behind him.

Sean turned to see a homeless man sitting on the curb. The homeless man watched Sean with a pair of large watery eyes, bloodshot and dark.

“You’re slippin’ through the cracks,” the man mumbled. “Hold on, man.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t understand.”

“Yeah, you’re in trouble.”

Sean wandered to the bus stop, deeply troubled by what the man said. Once he arrived, he realized his wallet was gone along with his bus pass. Sean cursed aloud. With no other option, he walked home.

Day 5

The following day, Sean took a break from filling out job applications to go for a walk. He returned to find that he’d lost his keys and couldn’t get inside the building. He knew his wife wouldn’t be home for hours. He didn’t have a phone, so he couldn’t call her.

The next person to approach the building’s entrance was a woman with curly grey hair and a gentle face.

“Hi, excuse me,” Sean said to her. “I live on the third floor. I’ve locked myself out. Would you mind letting me into the building?”

To Sean’s infinite relief, the woman looked at him and responded. “Sure.”

“Thank you so much,” Sean said.

“Of course. You live alone?”

“No, I'm married. My wife and I live here.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful. What’s her name?”

“Her name is—” Sean started to say. To his horror, he couldn’t remember his wife’s name. “Her name is, um—”

The woman raised her eyebrows at him. “You forgot?”

Sean laughed nervously. “I’m sorry. I’m just a bit flustered. I—”

The woman looked down to his left hand. “You don’t have a wedding ring.”

“No, I know. I lost it, unfortunately. ”

“Are you sure you’re married?”

“Yeah. Yes! I’m sure.”

The woman frowned. Standing there with her keys in her hand, she looked back and forth between Sean and the building’s front door. “You know what?” she said. “Why don’t you wait for your wife to get home. I’m sure she’ll let you in.”

“I—no, wait,” Sean pleaded.

Then the woman promptly let herself in and shut the door behind her.

Sean ground his teeth in frustration and paced around in front of the building.

He was eventually able to casually follow someone into the building’s foyer. He climbed the stairwell and sat down in the hallway with his back to his apartment’s front door. In the boredom of sitting in a cold, empty hallway with nothing to do, Sean found himself nodding off to sleep.

***

In Sean’s dream, when he found himself wandering the same endless suburban maze, he immediately panicked. He picked a direction and ran. He ran as far and as fast as he could, knowing the owl would show up to hurt him again.

“Hello?” Sean shouted as he ran. “Is anybody here?”

Sean ran up to the front door of a house and pounded on the door.

“Hello? Help!”

He tried to turn the doorknob, but it wouldn’t turn. He kicked and rammed the door with his shoulder. Nothing worked.

He ran to another house and threw himself at the door with no effect.

“Somebody, please!”

He grabbed a garden gnome from a lawn and hurled it at a window, but all it did was bounce off harmlessly. He ran around to the rear of a house and pounded on the sliding glass doors. He ran from house to house endlessly, screaming until his voice was hoarse.

“Nobody.”

When Sean heard the familiar words he froze and slowly turned to see the owl perched on a fence.

“Leave me alone!” he screamed, running into the street.

“Nobody,” the owl said again in a voice that seemed to emanate from everywhere at once.

Then Sean found himself sinking into the asphalt of the street that now had the consistency of quicksand.

“Let me go!” Sean said.

But the owl only glided over to a nearby perch and watched him with its head cocked to one side.

“Nobody,” it said.

Sean was up to his waist in the street, sinking more each second. He tried to wade out of it, but the more he struggled the faster he sank. To his chest. Up to his neck. He stretched his neck out as far as he could and took his last breath before sinking below the surface.

***

“Hello?”

Sean startled awake, flailing his arms.

“Whoa, easy!”

Ramona stood over Sean with her hands out in a calming motion. She held her phone in one hand like she was about to make a phone call.

“Are you alright?” she asked.

Sean rubbed his face. “Sorry, I was having a nightmare.”

“Yeah, you were screaming in the hallway.”

“Sorry,” Sean said again, standing up. A couple of the neighbors on this floor were peeking out to see what was happening.

“Sorry,” Sean said, waving to the neighbors. He and Ramona had never taken the time to get to know their neighbors on this floor, and this was an embarrassing way to meet them.

“Do you need help? Do you need me to call somebody?” Ramona asked.

“What? No, I just want to get inside. I’ve had a really bad day.”

“Did you lock yourself out?”

“Yeah. Lost my keys, if you can believe that.”

“That’s rough.” Ramona said. “Well, I think you fell asleep in front of the wrong place. This is actually my apartment."

“Yeah, I know.” Sean said, confused. “So, are you gonna let us in?”

“Look, if you need me to call somebody for you, I can do that, but I don’t feel comfortable letting you into my place.”

Sean felt even more confused. “Are you still mad about what we talked about the other night?”

Ramona pulled her pepper spray out of her purse. “I don’t know you and I definitely don’t live with you. Now, please leave.”

More spectators were gathered in the hallway. Sean slowly put his hands up.

“Ramona, please,” Sean said. “It’s me. It’s your husband, Sean. Please remember.”

“I’m calling the cops,” she said, holding her phone to her ear.

“Ramona—”

“Stop it. Stay back,” Then, into her phone. “Yes, there’s a strange man in my building trying to break into my apartment. Could you please send help?”

It was then that Sean noticed that Ramona wasn’t wearing her ring. Not only that, but he couldn’t even see a tan line on her finger. It was as though she’d never worn her ring.

“This doesn’t make any sense,” Sean said, disbelieving what he saw.

“Hey, let’s go. You gotta get out,” one man said who had exited his apartment wielding a baseball bat.

“Okay! Alright, I’m leaving. I’m leaving,” Sean said.

Sean heard Ramona giving the 9-1-1 operator Sean’s physical description as he descended the stairs.

Day 6

Sean woke up on a park bench early the next morning. He was freezing. He spent hours crying and several more hours trying to understand what had been happening to him this week. Most people didn’t seem to be able to see or hear him, and those who did avoided him like a leper.

The only thing Sean could think to do was go see Peter, his therapist. He had an appointment the following day.

Sean set out across the city to Peter’s office with heavy steps. On foot, the walk took most of the day. He arrived at Peter’s office late in the evening, long after office hours. With nothing else to do, and not trusting himself to fall asleep, he sat and waited in the building's doorway all night.

Day 7

Sean didn’t sleep. He spent the hours in the dark pacing, sitting, yawning, and pacing some more. The minutes passed so slowly it felt like an eternity. When the sky began to brighten with the first sign of sunrise, Sean had two thoughts. One, he was so exhausted that he couldn’t bring himself to care what anyone else thought anymore. If his wife (whatever her name was) and everyone else in the world wanted to forget about him? Fine. If he was going to be erased from all existence—his records, his license, his past, everything? Fine. If everyone in the world would stop seeing and hearing him like some kind of ghost? Some kind of non-existent person? Fine. He’ll go off the grid. He didn’t care anymore. He was too fed up to care.

The second thought Sean had as the sky slowly brightened was that it might not be so bad.

A car pulled into the parking lot. Peter’s car.

Peter parked, shut off his car, and walked toward the front of the office building where Sean stood.

“Peter?” Sean said.

Peter didn’t respond. Instead, he pulled a set of keys from his pocket to unlock the front door.

“Can you hear me?” Sean asked.

Peter didn’t respond.

“Can you see me?” Sean asked.

Peter unlocked the door and walked inside the building.

Sean’s throat constricted. He covered his mouth to stop a gasping sob from escaping. He sat down in the doorway of the office building and stared into space as a pair of tears fell down his cheeks.

Then he heard the rushing of wings.

A barn owl flew down and alighted on the ground across from where Sean sat. Sean looked at the animal and chuckled through his tears.

“Nobody,” Sean said aloud. Then he laughed some more.

The owl calmly regarded him for a moment, then flew away.

Sean didn’t wait around any longer. By the time Sean walked away from his therapist’s office, he couldn’t even remember what his therapist’s name was.

And he didn’t care.

Every Day After That

It took some time for Nobody to learn how it worked, but he understood it eventually. People couldn’t see him or hear him unless he wanted them to. So, Nobody came and went as he pleased. He brought nothing with him, and he was content.

Eventually, Nobody found a nice, familiar suburb and decided to stay. Carefully removed from the lives of its inhabitants, Nobody observed the people who lived there. A curious little barn owl often came to visit Nobody, and seemed to be the only exception to the rule that no one could see or hear him. Nobody liked the company.

One day, a family moved into the suburb. Nobody recognized the woman, though she’d aged several years. Her name was on the tip of his tongue. Did it start with an R?

The woman had a husband and a child. They seemed happy, but upon closer inspection, they weren’t happy at all. Their carefully arranged lives had all the appearances of happiness and well-put-together-ness, but they were miserable.

It didn’t take long for Nobody to realize that most everyone behaved this way. They carried out their lives, performing a role for the rest of the world. For whose benefit did they carry out these meaningless gestures? If Nobody stopped watching, would they stop performing? Would they stop existing?

“What a strange way to live,” Nobody observed as he watched them.

“I agree,” the owl replied.

fiction
66

About the Creator

Tyler C Clark

I'm a poet who discovered a love for fiction. This seems like a good place to stretch my legs.

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  • Some Nobodyabout a year ago

    This is amazing. One of my favorite short stories of all time.

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