Have you ever felt a cold breath of air dance across the nape of your neck? Have you ever felt the air alter about you, abandoning you with a feeling of discomfort? Have you ever felt a presence in your wake, but one impossible to see? What you feel is true; there is always something lurking, a person perhaps, never there, yet always seeming to be. You think that I am lying do you not? Just like all other ignorant creatures: you refuse to believe.
Oh how mistaken you are.
Strolling through late twilight, you hesitate, your pupils dilating. You begin to feel the impression that something is moving; the air surrounding you almost vibrating. But, that cannot be so. It can never be so. At least, not without something such as the wind moving it. Ahh, yes, the wind; that must be the cause.
But how? There is no wind.
Upon such realization, you begin to speed in your pace, quickening in your steps, attempting to flee from the anxiety that crawls along your spine. How vacuous to believe such a goal could be accomplished: no one can escape something that is never truly there.
As you hasten your stride across the pavement to your home, you quail as your skin begins to smart from the unpleasant intuition that you are not alone. The sharp air touches you, stroking your skin; you face, your nape, your legs. You feel disgusted, violated.
How meagre. I feel almost repulsed too.
You fumble with your keys, dropping them from your revolting, clammy hands twice before you finally manage to let yourself inside. Warmed and welcome by the heat and security you feel there, you become confused. Why are you so scared? A cold autumn evening with a few breaths of wind are nothing you have ever felt uncomfortable with before. So why now? Why are such trivial occurrences bothering you so?
Allowing yourself to calm, you leave your keys on the side and place the belongings you kept on your person in their rightful places. Going about your vapid lifestyle, you feel no more discomfort and you begin to take way to your room, yearning naught but a deep and dreamless sleep. You have not been bothered by anything unusual for quite some time now, and so you sink into the conception that nothing had been there all along.
You begin to undress, getting ready for your rest, but falter under a sharp stare. It sees not just your body, but scrutinizes your very inside.
Frightened and scared you turn around to the source of such a mysterious, ethereal gaze. “See?” You mutter “There’s nothing there.” The words echo false from your lips and despite the effort to comfort yourself, the dread is only intensified.
Whispers flicker between the air around you, twisted melodies almost visible in their intensity. And yet, it seems almost as if you cannot even hear anything; the sounds too far beyond reality for you to grasp. Despite this, it grows ever more in its intensity, never becoming any more audible, until it becomes unbearable. You claw at your head to make it stop but it merely hurts you even more than the nicks of the crescendo about you.
Depreciating, the cloud of noise begins to leave you. This time, you learn from your inane mistakes of allowing yourself into a false security; you tense waiting to endure whatever may throw itself at you next. How long you stay strained in wait, you cannot remember, but it seems long enough. You begin again to compose yourself for bed, feeling nothing other than shame for your truly demented mind.
You pause; all is silent.
My voice explodes inside your mind. Every nerve ending, every cell inside your body screams with the agony; agony worse than anything that could possibly be endured. Your back arches in spasms and you fall to your side. How long it lasts you will never know. The words you heard, if even words at all, you will never recall.
Everyone attempts to turn away from my calls, trying desperately to ignore it. But they can’t. You can’t. You never can. I see all, never any other soul seeing me. I dance between the shadows of your world and mine. I breath and take my home above and below the edge of reality, fluttering beyond all eyes’ gaze.
Do I even exist? Almost. I exist only in a world just beyond this realm; a place called Nowhere.
You all desire to name me; to give yourselves some form of pathetic security and a clutching of false peace. You wish to give a name to nothing? Those who, in the depths of their despair, find me a name deriving from the realm in which I exist:
I am The Nowhere Man