The Ghost Knight

Awsten woke with a loud, pulsating buzzing in his ear.

Thinking it was a bug, he tried to swat it away, but he couldn't move his arms. They were too heavy to lift. He opened his eyes and saw he was lying in his bed. He tried to sit up, but there was a crushing invisible weight pinning him down, suffocating him.

From the corner of his eye, he saw dark, humanoid shapes approach his bedside. Their gaunt faces came into view as they leaned over him. Ashened skin stretched tightly over their faces, sucking into their open, toothless mouths. Bulging, jaundice yellow eyes stared at him, unblinking. Expectant and waiting. Then, slowly, they all began reaching towards him with rotting, skeletal hands.

Wake up... A thousand voices whispered to him.

Panic filled Awsten's heart. He closed his eyes and tried to find anything else he could focus on. He couldn't see or breathe. What was something he could feel? He realized he was clutching his bedsheets in his fists. They were soft and comforting.

Finally he was able to pull himself out of it.

With a mental yank, he found control of his body again. He sat straight up in bed, clutching his chest and gasping. Nausea churned in the pit of his stomach.

The ghosts were gone.

He was shaking. He drew his legs up to his chest, put his head between his knees and took deep, calming breaths.

Awsten wasn't unfamiliar with sleep paralysis. He's had episodes on and off again ever since he was a kid. He used to endure them on a near regular basis, but with the help of calming night aids and therapy, he was able to limit them to just a couple times a year.

This had been the worst episode yet.

When his heart rate slowed down, he unfolded himself from his fetal position and began to take in his surroundings. Morning sunlight poured into his room. His bedsheets were in a twisted heap around his legs. He was covered in a sheen of cold, sticky night sweat. A sharp, throbbing pain hammered at the center of his forehead, protesting the light. He untangled himself from his sheets and swung himself around to get out of bed and nearly stepped on Travis' stretched out arm. He jumped back, surprised to find him asleep on the floor.

What was he doing here? Awsten thought. He couldn't remember why Travis had spent the night.

He couldn't think around his headache. Careful not to step on Travis, he tiptoed around him and made his way into the bathroom.

He pulled out a bottle of Tylenol pills from the cabinet and popped two in his mouth. He turned on the sink water and drank straight from the faucet, then splashed his face a couple of times. The cool tap was refreshing as it washed away the sweat and sleep. He turned off the water, and examined his reflection in the mirror.

Heavy dark circles hung underneath his blood shot eyes, making his mismatching green and blue irises appear to glow in the contrast to his sickly pale complexion. His silver, sweat dried hair stood up in odd directions. A damp ring lined around the collar of his t-shirt. He looked like hell.

What happened last night? Awsten tried to recall yesterday's events. His memories were fuzzy and he struggled to piece them together.

He remembered the morning before. He had shared with his friends a video clip that was trending on Twitter. He had been excited about it, but strangely, he couldn't remember what the video was about.

He went back to his room and unplugged his phone from the night stand. The time flashed on his screen. 11:11 a.m. He had slept in later than usual.