The first time I saw Haz was maybe six months ago, scuttling across the ceiling of my bedroom like some kind of nightmare cockroach. Gremlin had seen them before then; they were what he’d been chattering at all this time.
After they went out the window I assumed that was the last I’d ever see of them. I hoped that it was the last I’d seen of them. A bad dream, something spun up by my half-asleep brain, not real and never there. Gremlin had been chattering at something so much and for so long, my imagination had just filled in the blanks and come up with something utterly bizarre.
That’s what I told myself anyway.
A while later I smelled something oddly musty and almost like soil when I went into the living room. Gremlin was on the couch, front paws on the arm and his head craned back, chattering at the ceiling. Wasn’t sure as to the smell, but the reason for the chattering had to be a bug this time.
“…Hello again.”
Slowly I looked up to see a tall, lanky figure clinging to my ceiling, every bit as unnatural as I remembered them. Human but not, with a witch’s mane of tangled black hair and a masklike face frozen in a broad, lipless grin. Their limbs were too long and too thin, each spidery finger tipped in a sharp claw.
The strangest part? That had to be the way they had twisted their head all the way around to stare down at me.
Just looking at the thing felt wrong. I’d only seen them in shadow before, only the glowing eyes and the smile, the general outline of their body, and that had been bad enough. I couldn’t even look up all this time, didn’t want to open my eyes at night for fear of being met with fishlike eyes and a razor-toothed grin.
Seeing them— really seeing them— made things so much worse. How could such a thing exist? Too close to human and not enough at the same time, looking like something out of a fever dream. My sight blurred, refocused again like something in me was trying to correct a mistake.
They were still there when my vision cleared, squatting on the ceiling in such a way that brought them almost eye to eye with me. Their expression didn’t — couldn’t — change, but the way they hung upside down turned their permanent grin into a frown.
“A little rude not to answer, don’t you think?”
Backing out of the range of those teeth, I held up my hands. “Sorry about that. You’re right, it’s rude. You just surprised me is all.”
They considered that for a moment or two, then dropped off the ceiling and landed soundlessly in front of me. That’d be an impressive feat for anyone, let alone something that looked to be eight or nine feet tall. If they’d been terrifying up there, it was even worse now that they were looming over me.
“I caught you off-guard, didn’t I?” they said with a sandpapery laugh. “So I should be the one apologizing, right…?” Trailing off, they cocked their head at me, waiting for a name.
“…Luisa.”
“Lu-i-sa,” they said, sounding out each syllable. “Luisa. I like it. Simple. Easy.”
“Thanks. So since I told you my name, what’s yours? What do I call you?”
The answer was a series of clattering, chittering sounds. Lots of hard consonants strung together into a droning noise that made my head swim. Only got worse when I tried to repeat it. Just the attempt caused me to choke, phlegm bubbling up in my throat. My head swam again like it did when I first saw them, and I passed out.
Don’t remember when I came to, but I was laid out on the couch when I did. I almost felt tipsy, fuzzy and not really sure of how or why I was there until I saw Haz sitting in the chair nearby, watching me intently. There was a weight on my chest that turned out to be Gremlin, tail poofed up and ears laid sideways. Poor little guy didn’t know what happened to me. To tell the truth, neither did I.
“I wouldn’t try that again if I were you,” Haz said. “Besides, without throat mandibles it doesn’t sound right.”
Before I could even ask what throat mandibles were, they made a muffled rattling sound in the back of their throat. Opening their mouth, that muffled rattle turned into a series of loud rapid-fire clicks. It was a noise that a human throat could never hope to make. Just when I thought I couldn’t take it anymore, they stopped.
“See? Makes all the difference in the world.”
That’s when we settled on ‘Haz’ for short. It’s the first syllable of their name, and the only part I can get out without feeling like I want to vomit. Haz, for their part, finds this an acceptable nickname. Not as fluid as mine, but that’s really not possible considering the harshness of theirs.
Despite their eerie appearance, they’re not that bad. Granted, I had to set a few ground rules for when they came to visit, like not sneaking in through an open window and scaring the piss out of me when I turned around. Haz moves very quietly, and most of the time I didn’t know they were there until I saw them.
Their solution was knocking on the window first. Still creepy to see those glowing fish eyes staring in at me, but much better than being snuck up on. I suggested using the front door, but they shrugged that idea off.
“The window is better,” they said. “More like home.”
That was the first time they’d ever mentioned their home. I was understandably curious about what it was like, and where something like them would come from. Some sort of magical world, maybe? Or another planet? They seemed alien to me with their spindly limbs and odd, birdlike gait, so I wouldn’t be surprised if that was the case.
Turns out I was wrong on both counts.
“Not anything nearly so far away,” they said, shaking their head. “We live in the deep, dark places of the earth. Our cities are built into the walls of the caves.”
The idea of hidden cities winding through the depths of the earth was both fascinating and terrifying. More of whatever Haz was skittering about, unknown to the rest of the world besides me. Had any of them come up here besides them, creeping through the night with a permanent grin on their face? I wanted to know more.
They don’t seem to have a concept of a family as humans do; their kind all come from ‘the same source’, and they consider all of them to be blood. They did admit that there’s a handful that they like more than others and feel closer to, which honestly isn’t that different from anyone else.
“So what do you do for fun down there?”
“Music’s a big thing among my people,” they said. “You haven’t heard music until you’ve heard it echoing off the walls of a gigantic cavern.”
I imagined some kind of ancient chant echoing through the darkness, accompanied by instruments that we humans didn’t have or even know of up here on the surface. Given Haz’s odd anatomy, their throat mandibles in particular, I could only guess at what the actual singing must be like.
Other than song, story-telling and plays were popular, as well as something Haz referred to only as ‘memory-weaving’.
What is memory-weaving? According to them it’s something that can’t be truly described, only experienced.
“The only way I can put it without actually doing it is that it takes you someplace else, and lets you be anyone else. I’ve swum to the bottom of the ocean and flown through the sky. I’ve gone to all sorts of other worlds that the Memory-Weavers have just spun up out of nothing, and been all sorts of creatures that only exist in their imaginations.”
As their kind all have an innate knack for memory-weaving, they use it to go unseen when on the surface. As far as anyone knows there’s nothing out of the ordinary there. That explains why no one has ever seen the nine-foot-tall, glowy-eyed creature skulking around my house but me.
They’ve politely refused any kind of food I’ve offered. They won’t take anything, no fruits or vegetables, no meat of any kind, no fish, no bread, no sweets. Mushrooms can grow in caves, so I thought they might like those, but no dice. In the end I asked what they like to eat and hoped the answer wasn’t something too strange.
“My needs are…unique,” Haz said. “Not really something you can buy in a store or serve up on a plate.”
I decided to let the matter drop, since then I knew it was bound to be something bizarre. They will accept nearly anything to drink, developing a fondness for coffee of all things.
…By now it doesn’t even bother me anymore that they drink it with what looks like a hummingbird’s tongue. Just part of Haz being Haz.
I’ve come to enjoy visits from my otherworldly friend, even if they usually don’t show up until late. Just means we spend all night hanging out rather than all day. Even got them to sit through a few movies, which they enjoyed. Apparently the plot makes up for the fact that it’s nowhere near as immersive as memory-weaving is.
At first I felt woozy or panicky whenever I saw them, but that’s long since subsided. There’s nothing to be scared of. There’s nothing wrong.
Everything is fine.
When I finally do go to sleep, I slip into some of the most fantastic dreams I ever had. I’ve been a flickering flame or a soaring phoenix. I’ve floated over the clouds and through space and time. Nothing matters when they’re memory-weaving. Not the world, not Gremlin’s yowling, and not Haz’s hummingbird tongue sliding into my ear to consume my mind little by little.
Yes, Haz is the best friend I’ve ever had.
I think you just inspired me to write something about a monster like nothing, though I have a feeling mine might be evil, not sure yet. I loved this.
Not all shadow people are evil. 😏Lovecraft would be a fan.