Silence of the Butterflies

Author's Note: Big thank you to Secretsxywriter for editing and helping me with this story better.

And now something spookier just in time for Halloween.

***

It all started with oranges bouncing around on the sidewalk.

I'd been unemployed for a while, the stress of it messing with my life. I was burning through my savings, and insomnia had kicked in last week. I slept late and had trouble getting up at all.

Today, I'd forced myself out, thinking maybe fresh air would help me get my head back in the game. It didn't. I was still exhausted. As a result, I wasn't quick enough to react when an old lady stepped off a bus, a full bag of groceries topped with oranges wobbling on her arm.

I stumbled into her, spilling the citrus all over.

She managed to clutch onto the door with her free hand and stop herself from falling.

"Watch your step!" Her voice hit like a whip, and she put her bag down to collect the escaped fruit.

I scrambled after the oranges, the accident having jumpstarted my brain. I fished the fruit from behind some bikes and wiped them on my jeans. "I'm really sorry. Haven't been sleeping well lately."

She stuffed the produce back in the bag without a word.

A yawn forced my jaws open. I needed a nap. Sleeping during the day was easy. It was the nights I couldn't manage.

She continued to glare at me, her gray hair ruffled by the collision. Her sinewy arms and hard appearance made me think of my nana, who'd spent her life in factory work. "You do look horrible, boy."

I was surprised by the quick shift in her tone. Her empathy seemed genuine. "Nothing helps, I just stay awake and stare at the ceiling."

"Come with me." She pushed the groceries into my arms and marched on. "I have some tea that might help. If you're not against a little herbal medicine?"

"I'm willing to try anything. My name is Rico, by the way."

"They call me Divna."

Dealing with the bag was a struggle. It just seemed so...heavy. I wasn't a skinny guy, so I blamed insomnia. I used to go to the gym, but I'd stopped to cut some corners.

I followed her since I had nothing better to do. Like any job interviews in the horizon.

She had a little bit of an accent, so I wasn't surprised when we ended up in an area with a lot of immigrants. My weariness came back in waves now that the adrenalin rush had gone, and my head felt like it was filling with cotton. When we headed for narrow back alleys, I started to question my judgment. She was old, and I had almost a foot on her, but she might be packing heat or leading me somewhere to be robbed. This wasn't the best hood to be in.

We entered one of the weathered buildings and took the elevator up. Divna's keychain had everything from rusted keys to a plastic Jesus figurine and what looked like an honest rabbit's foot. The opening door released a spicy smell of stew or some such. The apartment was so small, I could hear the pot bubbling from the corridor.

"Come in, quick. Don't let the cats out." She left her purse on a counter and went straight to the kitchenette to stir whatever was cooking. Two cats, a tabby and a black one, came to rub themselves against her legs.

I put the groceries on the only table I could see and heard the toilet flushing. An old man, even older than the woman, came into the living room, arranging his suspenders. He sported a cloth cap even indoors. A third cat, white with brown spots, followed him from the bathroom.

"Who's this, then?" The man went and kissed Divna. "I told you, we can't take in every cute thing you find out there."

"Hush with your jokes." She gave him a wooden spoon and nodded towards the pot. "Excuse Aleksy. He's unable to shut up."

He gave her a mischievous smile and continued mixing.

I stood there, feeling stupid. The cats came to inspect me, and I crouched to pet them, which they found most pleasing. I yawned, and the black cat meowed in response.

"Leave the nice man alone," Divna said, shooing the animals away.

"I don't mind." My jeans were already covered in cat hair. Great. "Can I sit?"

Divna placed me in a chair painted full of autumn leaves. "I put the kettle on. There will be tea shortly. You tell me what's keeping you up at night. It's not just stress, is it?"

I stared at Divna, too tired to argue. I had no idea how she could know there was something weird about my sleep problems. This wasn't the first time I'd been unemployed, but the insomnia was new. "I'm just too tired, so I imagine these weird things."

"Like?"

"It's too silent to sleep."

Divna sat next to me and put her hand on mine. "Tell me, please. Maybe I can help."

"I live cheap, so there are lots of traffic noises. Even during the night. Neighbors working the late shift, clanging in the stairs. Someone listening to music at all hours. Now, suddenly, there's nothing. It's so silent, if I didn't hear myself breathing, I'd think I'd gone deaf." I sounded crazy even to my own ears.

Divna patted the back of my hand and went to check on the water. "When did this start?"

"Last week, I guess. I didn't pay attention. I thought it was the stress."

She went through the cabinets, took down one of many battered metal jars and filled a tea infuser. The tea she brought me, instructing to let it sit for three minutes, smelled of pepper and something sour. The mug had cracks all over it.

I warmed my hands on the mug and stared into the darkening liquid.

"Let it cool a little. No use burning your mouth. And no, you aren't going mad, dear."

"Feels like it."

"Sometimes things go bump in the night, but some often just linger in silence. As much afraid of us as we are of them." She went to the bedroom and dragged a wooden chest from under the bed.

"She knows what she's talking about," Aleksy said.

"You mean the silence isn't just in my mind?" I asked.

"Definitely not." Divna had opened the chest and was going through its contents. "Can you think of anything that's changed lately? A new neighbor? A different handyman going around?"

I picked through my foggy brain. I didn't know any of my neighbors beyond some awkward greetings in the elevators. The building wasn't horrible but in dire need of repairs. Not many moved there willingly. "The corner store under me got fixed up a bit. Got a new sign. Well, a used sign. It's banged up and flickers. Says 'Open' in big, red letters."

"Old things gather memories and sometimes even souls." Aleksy's voice was foreboding.

"Don't spook him." Divna came back to the table with a bundle of twigs and dried herbs tied together with a copper wire. "Drink up, dear."

The tea was still hot but not scalding. The mug was rough against my lips. It didn't taste like any tea I'd ever had, but it sure as hell woke me up, leaving my head tingling. If you mixed up an energy drink with a hot sauce, you'd get something similar, just not as horrible tasting.

The tingling escalated, and my brain felt like it had caught on fire. I coughed, coming just short from throwing up on the floor. The cats scrambled away, hissing. Divna hit my back a couple of times, helping the lava-like liquid set in my stomach.

"That'll keep you from walking into people." She waited for me to get myself in order before presenting the weird bundle. "This is an amulet of sorts. Should alleviate your problems."

I took the bundle, and the smell of anise invaded my nose along with things I didn't recognize. "I don't have to eat this, do I?"

"You hear this, Aleksy? The boy is making fun of me." Divna shook her head. "Hang it on the window closest to the sign you told me about. It should help you communicate with the spirit."

"Wait, no! I don't want to get myself dragged into any mumbo jumbo. No offense. I appreciate your help, really do, but I just want to sleep."

"Whatever is bothering you, it's trying to communicate. What you hear as silence, might be a yell for it. It might give up eventually, but who knows if that'll happen before you stumble in front of a truck instead of an old woman."

"But ghosts aren't real."

"Who said it was a ghost?" Aleksy asked.

I went for my wallet, but she stopped me. "Don't insult me with money. I helped you because you seem a decent man in trouble. If you don't want it, leave it. But think about this. If the sound is indeed a cry for help, then maybe you hear it because you care. Many would've just rushed on after bumping into me. And many have."

I sat there, gripping the bundle in my hand. It would've been easy to think her insane, except whatever she'd made me drink had evaporated my tiredness. "Fine, I'll try it."

"That's all I'm asking. I'm trying to help, believe it or not."

I stood up and tucked the bundle into my pocket. "Thank you, both of you. I don't mean to be ungrateful. I'm just at my rope's end."

Aleksy brought the steaming pot to the table. With it arrived a smell of delicious spices. Big pieces of carrots, potatoes, and meat floated in the thick sauce. "Eat with us. Everything looks better with a full stomach."

***

When I got back home, I stopped to examine the sign over the shop's iron-bar-protected window. I saw nothing out of the ordinary. Rust had already nestled in the joints where yellow paint had chipped off. Neon lighting seemed antiqued in the age of LEDs. The word 'Open' had been formed in an ornate cursive.

I was no expert, but the sign seemed custom made. There was a big, dark moth hiding under it, waiting for the darkness to fall. If you looked at the sign after nightfall, there were a log of insects circling it.

I didn't notice anything weird, so I headed up. I threw my keys on the kitchen table and gave the odd herb bundle a second look. The copper wire shone brightly even under the dim ceiling light. The tea had been effective, but I still didn't believe some random old lady was a ghost whisperer or something.

On the other hand, I was desperate enough to try anything. I wanted nothing more than a good night's sleep. With insomnia came depression and loneliness. I didn't have the energy to see my friends, and I'd had to decline a date offer. She'd seemed understanding, but I hated having my life on hold.

I set the bundle up over my bedroom window. It swung gently, eventually settling in the middle of the glass. I stared at it for a while, but nothing happened.

I slumped on my couch and put on the next episode of whatever I had been watching last night. I didn't really care so long as there were flickering lights keeping my half-dead brain from a full breakdown. Slowly, I entered a stupor. My tired mind looking for sleep but not finding it, just running around in circles instead.

I snapped out of it suddenly, unsure why. The remote bounced from my hand across the floor. Had I fallen asleep? My limbs were heavy, and I could smell anise, despite the bundle being in the next room.

I went to check on it, finding it where I'd left it. The sign was on, smearing the window and the room with its red glow. What passed as my bedroom was barely big enough for my old bed. A moth was fluttering around. I could imagine the sound of its wings. It gained altitude as I watched, poking its small body against the glass. The window was thick enough that I didn't hear a thing.

I went to shut down the TV to find it already dark. I guess the remote had hit the floor at the right angle and done it for me.

My neck was sore after the sprawl on the couch. I'd had enough of lying on the bed, but at least it didn't mess up my body. As I climbed under the blanket, I couldn't take my eyes off the red glow coming from outside.

The sign hadn't bothered me before. Now, it was all I could think about. I got up and shut the curtains. Pleasing darkness enveloped the room.

The blanket up to my chin, I curled into a fetal position, facing the opposite wall. It felt like the eerie glow could still penetrate through my eyelids.

I lay there while nothing happened. Neither ghosts or sleep came for me.

I'd previously thrown my alarm clock away and had been recharging my phone in the living room so I wouldn't keep checking the time every minute. Now, nervousness got the better of me. I had to know how far the night had dragged its feet.

Reaching my hand out from the warmth of the blanket felt as horrible as it had been when I'd still been a kid afraid of the monster in the closet.

I kicked the blanket off and rolled on the floor. This whole ghost stuff had gotten me so worked up my heart was bounding. I forced myself to the window and looked between the curtains. The amulet hung there, the copper shining with a red tint. The sign was the same as always.

Ramblings of an old woman had spooked me like I was still in pre-school. Cursing my stupidity, I went to rummage through the living room. I found the phone between the couch cushions. It must've slipped down there while I dozed off.

I wanted to see what time it was, but the phone didn't respond. Great, out of battery. Where had I put the charger?

As I stared at the phone's black screen, I remembered what had been different about the sign. Missing. The moth had vanished.

A faint sound—more like vibrations in the air—coming from the darkness beyond the living room window startled me, and the phone fell back into the couch's bowels. On the other side of that window was a fire-escape and little else. I saw nothing as I peered into the dim night.

A shadow cut through my field of view. There was someone out there. I rushed to get a knife from my knife block. You couldn't get in without breaking the window, but acidheads looking for quick cash could do anything.

I waited. When there was no more movement or sound, I put all the lights on. The dirt covering the fire-escape was undisturbed. Nobody was out there. It was just my sleep-deprived brain messing with me.

When I double-checked the clasp, I noticed rime had appeared in the corners of the glass. Fall was on its way, but it never got below freezing until January, if even then. I opened the window enough for me to touch the glass from the outside. It really was frozen.

The sound hit me again as though I were being pummeled by invisible wings.

I rushed into the bedroom, the knife still in my hand. The window was still open, but only an inch. Nobody could get in from there. I had to be dreaming. That was the logical explanation. I refused to check the sign to see if the moth had returned.

As I put the knife on the box I used as a nightstand, I noticed how unnaturally cold the blade was. I took a deep breath and exhaled. It was cold enough for the red glow to catch on. I had been so nervous, I hadn't noticed how freezing it had become.

I reached for the radiator, it was warm under my skin.

It was the middle of the night, and I'd been awake for way too long. The human body lowered its temperature during the night to get ready for sleep. This was just that.

But then, shouldn't the knife feel warm to touch? What about the window?

I pulled the curtains closed again. This was stupid. Everything would make sense in the morning.

Still, I left the knife close enough to grab if need be. I buffed the pillow and collapsed on the bed, eyes closed. I just wanted to drift away into oblivion. I reached for the blanket but couldn't find it.

Had it fallen on the floor? With a sigh, I opened my eyes but didn't see the blanket in the near pitch black. Propped up on one arm, I moved my right hand around the mattress. There was a faint touch on back of my hand. And it was no draft.

I tried to pull the arm back, but it refused to move.

Something skittered in the darkness.

There was a brush along both of my thighs, and I lost feeling on them. I fell back on the bed, unable to support myself in a half-raised position.

I screamed, only the first half a second managing to get out.

A dark finger with a black, claw-like nail extended from the darkness that didn't seem as inky, but only immediately around me, and bushed my throat.

No matter how much I bellowed, the sound was gone. Panic took hold of me. I grabbed the side of the bed with my left still-working hand and pulled towards the floor. If I managed to fall, maybe my limbs would start working again. Or I would wake from this nightmare.

My left arm froze as a gentle hand grabbed it and tucked it next to my body.

I screamed inside my head, waiting for my heart to stop next.

The touch returned. It was slow and chilly. Like the hands of someone who had been in the cold without gloves.

At least my lungs and heart worked, so that was a plus. For now. Maybe it would've been better to die or at least faint. My eyes moved, but it was too dark to see properly.

Maybe this was a sleep paralysis? I'd read about them, and they sounded horrible. Lying awake, unable to move or fall back to sleep, feeling like someone was sitting on your chest.

While I was busy trying not to lose my mind, the touching continued. Fingers traced my limbs up and down. It might've even been pleasant if I hadn't been so unnerved.

Was I being sized up for eating or something even more sinister?

A finger touched my forehead, making circles in my short hair. It felt more curious and playful than malevolent. The dark skin was rougher than mine, but not unpleasantly so. The nails weren't sharp enough to accidentally hurt me, which was a relief.

Cold caresses enveloped my face. It brushed my eyebrows, studied the slope of my nose, climbed my cheekbones and lassoed my ears. The stubble on my chin seemed to amuse the toucher because it spent time running along it with sides of fingers.

Divna had told me this wasn't a ghost. If so, what was it? A demon? Some kind of evil spirit? There had to be a rational explanation for this. There were paralyzing drugs. Of course, the tea had been drugged. Or the stew. This was how they burgled people. Made them believe in ghosts and then robbed them clean.

Or maybe it was a stalker from my building. Whoever it was, he was twisted. He? There was no way to tell if the assailant was a he or she. Or was it, it? They?

'It' seemed to be the most horrific option, so I discarded it immediately. 'He' and 'she' felt too specific. 'They' sounded the least bad. It left enough room for this to end in something other than me being cut up and disposed into a lake.

The fingers were coal black, not a shade of any normal skin color I'd ever seen. The nails were also dark, and thick, almost like claws. I wished I was wrong when I noticed there seemed to be only three fingers per hand.

The bed creaked as the person shifted next to me. I got a glimpse of a thin human figure, way thinner than was healthy.

I tried to force my muscles, but they still refused to move.

The touch moved down, caressing the sides of my neck. My skin got goosebumps. There seemed to be no malice in the touch. It was more akin to a massage or an ASMR video I'd watched on YouTube trying to get sleep. Those were full of people whispering into the mic or making tapping sounds. Sometimes the sound alone made it feel like someone was really touching you.

This touch was not imaginary, but what was its purpose? It was presented almost like a question. Were they searching for something? Mapping my body?

The dark fingers painted a square on my chest. Then, the touching turned more precise. They were drawing on my skin. My head didn't move, so I couldn't see.

When it repeated the third time, I was sure they were trying to tell me something.

I had no idea what.

There were big shapes, squares, and triangles, I guess. Something smaller and more detailed too. It could've been a human or an animal.

I tried to ask, but my voice was still muted. This made no sense. If they wanted to communicate, why paralyze me and make me unable to express myself in any way? Divna's words came back to me. The monsters in the night could be as afraid of us as we were of them.