Project I.R.I.S.

Chapter One: Going Home

It's five thirty-five am as I lay in bed. My heart is racing as I stare at the glowing numbers of my clock in the dark room. In an hour, I'll have to get up and prepare for my trip. Right now though, there is not much I can do. I can only lie here, paralyzed with fear as I drift back into the dream that has haunted me every night since my return from the hospital. I don't recall the accident. Yet, every night since has become a nightmare for me. Something in my subconscious wants me to recall. It's something that I have forgotten. Or something I'm just too afraid to remember. As I am slipping back into my vivid nightmare, I hear my bedroom door creak open but it's too late. I can't open my eyes. I'm drifting in a dark place between awake and asleep. I'm forced to listen to the creature's careful footsteps across the carpet as it approaches my bed. Then just before I'm dragged into the landscape of my nightmare, I feel it lean on the bed beside my arm. It's body heat causing the hairs on my arm to rise. It leans in and I feel its breath near my shoulder when it whispers to me in a distant distorted voice. "Jack, you've got to wake up. It's time... to remember."

In my nightmare, I'm walking fast down a long dark road. I'm stepping over the thick snow carefully trying not to disturb the surrounding silence, but it crunches with every step. My warm breath puffs before my face as I hug my jacket tighter around myself. I don't recall it being this cold in Ireland. I don't recall why I'm even here. A twig snaps to my right and I stop to listen. The forest that surrounds me is so dark I can only see through a few rows with the help of the bright moonlight above me. As the echo of the snapped branches fade, I am left with only eerie silence. My mind tells me it is a sign that everything should be asleep at this hour. However, my gut is telling me that something is there. The hairs on the back of my neck rise as my primal instinct tells me that I'm not alone. Something is hunting me. Stalking me just out of my sight. When faced with this growing overwhelming fear, I quickly allow myself to rationalize it in order to make it not so horrible. It was a branch breaking under the weight of the snow. Swallowing my childish fears, I continue walking.

My cabin is not too far away. In a few minutes, I will be there. There are no big predators in this part of Ireland. At best it is a stray dog. My fear dies down, but I'm tempted to talk to myself or sing. Something to fill the chilly silent air. Just as I begin to consider it, my throat closes up on me. I'm suddenly choked by a fear that the sound of my own voice will drown out other sounds. Sounds of a barely heard threat looming within the dark reaches of the trees. Barely breathing, I pick up my pace a little and pray that I don't hear footsteps behind me. I'm listening intently now. The crunching of snow almost deafening my ears in this otherwise silent forest. The blistering cold fills my lungs and forces me to slow down to a stop. Cupping my hands over my mouth, I blow into them to keep my fingers from freezing. Allowing myself a moment to get my wild emotions under control. Something about all this feels so familiar, but I brush it to the back of my mind. I know where I'm going. I know where I am. Of course, it is familiar.

Feeling better, I continue down the little narrow road. The farther I go, the more I see an opening starting to form between the trees. Until I see it. My old cabin. Nestled in the middle of a small clearing. My heart leaps at the sight of it. How long has it been? The sight of it filling me with nostalgia from a simpler time. Oh, how I've missed it. Walking briskly across the clearing, I feel like I'm going home. I can't wait to get the fireplace started. My crunching steps turn into heavy thuds as I walk up the steps of the small wooden porch. Fumbling to pull the key from my pants, I unlock the wooden door with a satisfying click. I have to shove the door with my shoulder to break the seal of ice around the frame, but I quickly scurry inside where it is slightly warmer. Out of habit, I lock the door behind me and turn to face the dark living room before me. Even the pinewood smell of the place fills me with a refreshing calmness. Carefully navigating the furniture in the room, I reach the far window. I need light to see the fireplace and the moonlight will do the trick.