Not There

  That was it. Just like that, he disappeared. There was no light, no sound, he was just simply not there. That look in his eyes, though, is something I'll never forget.

  I see it every day, every time I close my eyes, and I see it in my dreams. When I dream of him, he speaks to me, accusing me for not saving him, for standing there and watching as he was taken. In my dreams, he is not longer simply not there. In my dreams, they take him slowly.

  They peel his flesh away, they tear at his bones and pull at his muscles. They take their time, ripping him apart, peeling him like a grape and I can do nothing to stop them. The last things to go are always his eyes, watching me, accusing me, pleading for my help. And still I do nothing.

  But I learned something that day, in addition to the fact that the things I see are real. I learned that I was not the only one who could see them. If this man could see them and I could see them, then there must be others.

  So I started digging.