Of That Day and Hour: A psychological thriller by Anthony O'Brien

Vincent Van Gogh: ‘I often think that the
night is more alive and richly colored than the day.’
    He can see his breath, and
takes a sip of hot coffee to enhance the effect. The timber weathervane is
blending into the sky. He can see the outline of the old Ford truck at the side
of the barn. A slight movement catches his eye. A fox or coyote? He isn’t sure.
Jeff believes this land belongs as much to the animal kingdom as it does to
man. The shadow continues to flicker around the barn for quite some time. Intrigued
and entertained, he watches the show, until then a shadow steps out.
    “What the fuck?”
    A human shadow can only mean
one thing: an intruder. Jeff tries to stand but is unable to move. He can’t
even shout to warn Eve. The malevolent presence keeps advancing. The closer the
cloaked figure steps, the greater becomes a pressure, heavy on his chest. The
dark reaper starts to climb the steps. With each agonizingly silent step Jeff
trembles with fear. The apparition glides over the porch to stand over him. Jeff
feels his heart about to burst. Inside the cloak there’s only darkness. The
hood is pulled back. He tries to scream, and then realizes he’s staring into
the eyes of someone he knows. Someone he knew. Casey’s mother. An abhorrent
silence hangs for a heartbeat before she speaks.
    “Do not trust him.”
    “Who...? Casey?” Jeff
receives no answer. He manages to whisper “Aimee?”
    Her face bears no
expression; her eyes bulge as they stare into his. Her lips pucker before she
shouts.
    “White!”
    A flash and she’s gone. Jeff
finds he can move again. Shaking, chilled to the bone, he makes his way back
inside. Just a dream, he tells himself. The coffee beside him was after all
stone cold.
    ***
    One week later Jeff sits
opposite a doctor, watching the second hand slowly ticking on the clock. The
framed anatomical drawings displayed as artwork on the wall remind him of
diagrams of choice cut meats at a butchers. The doctor thumbs the paperwork
before looking up.
    “Dr. Davies, eighty five
percent of all diagnoses we make are made in the laboratory. I have your
results here, and thankfully all your tests have come back clear.” The doctor
looks down at his notes. “We can safely eliminate dementia, psychosis,
epilepsy, partial seizures, delirium, lymphoma and schizophrenia.”
    “That’s a relief.” Jeff
physically relaxes; inwardly, he sighs.
    “Indeed. I would try to keep
your blood sugar up, and reduce your caffeine intake. Take a holiday, relax; it
will do you the world of good.”
    “Yes, thank you doctor. I
will take your advice. But this was such a vivid dream. A waking experience,
and I feared that I may have been delusional.”
    “Forgive me for asking; do
you take any illegal narcotics?”
    “Certainly not.” Jeff’s face
expresses his repulsion at the suggestion.
    “I didn’t think for a moment
that you would. However, it’s my job to ask. I’m sorry,”
    “I understand.” Redeemed,
his guard drops.
    “Anomalous experiences, such
as the benign hallucinations that you have experienced, may occur even if
you’re in a state of good physical and mental health without the absence of a
trigger such as intoxication or fatigue. We now understand that hallucinatory
states are experienced by a significant cross-section of the healthy
population. There does not need to be any abnormal situation or stress.”
    “So as I understand it, this
is normal, or within the range of normal. You’re saying I shouldn’t worry?”
    “Yes. When you were outside
on the porch, the fact that you felt pressure on your chest and were unable to
move is symptomatic of sleep paralysis. When you awoke, your coffee was cold,
supporting evidence that you had been asleep.”
    “And the apparition?”
      “A hypnagogic image, and not uncommon. The
apparition appears external, however it’s an illusion, one located within your
own mind. Commonly they happen at the transition between sleep and