After six failed attempts at trying to excuse himself for a bathroom break and dodging conversations to go refill his drink, Mads loudly and suddenly announced, "I'm going for a smoke!"

The loud clamouring of conversation paused to process this. "Oh, bummer! We just came back inside from ours, you could have joined us," whined a girl with green hair who seemed to come from literally nowhere.

"Oh no, funny that," Mads pretended to whine back, as he was already sidling past her to make for the exit.

The cold night air hit him like a slap as he emerged from the basement bar and the university orientation within. Not an official orientation, but the drinking orientation – the first drunk night out of the semester, where everyone would get to know each other way too well before classes even started.

Mads smacked his cheek as if it would overtake the bite from Melbourne's chilly July air, then tucked his arms tightly across his chest. He didn't even have a pack of smokes on him, but there was no one outside to catch him in his lie.

'Maybe I should just leave,' he thought briefly. These people weren't awful, it was just... a lot. There were a lot of them. And they were so much younger than him. 

It made sense. Uni orientations were usually bright, new, exciting things, for bright, new, exciting people. Kids fresh out of high school, maybe even on their first visit to the big city. But Mads was already late to this party; the second semester was just about to begin, and all these people knew each other already. Not to mention he’d done this before, and even two-and-a-half short years of an abandoned bachelor degree made him look ancient to these teenagers.

He shivered so violently it shook his train of thought away. 'Maybe I should just leave...' He thought again. Only this time, he received an answer.

Mads blinked as an old yellow taxi rolled painfully slowly into his periphery. He had to double take when he noticed it, seemingly arriving out of nowhere on the oddly empty street. 'Where IS everyone?' He wondered suddenly, and whipped his head around to look up and down the straight road lined with the tall mishmash of old-and-new buildings.

'It's Saturday night, and it's not even that late. I thought there were other bars on this street...?'

Mads’ confusion was replaced with concern when the taxi came to a stand-still in front of him. He couldn't see through the passenger window; it was just blackness, with the corner of the bar's neon sign reflected in the glass.

Silence. Then Mads cleared his throat.

"I'm good, thanks," he waved one hand in front of him. But almost as if it had been waiting for his acknowledgement, the window started to wind down, as painfully slowly as the taxi had slid into his view.

The reflection of the neon disappeared, but the blackness remained. Mads felt faint.

Something whispered to him through the pointed breeze, and his vision began to blur.

***

Mads awoke slowly, lying on his back in his own bed. He blinked the sleep out of his eyes and took a deep breath.  

'What an odd dream,' he thought to himself, as he looked down at himself and noticed he was above his blankets. He also noticed he was in his clothes he'd picked out for the orientation party, and wearing the necklace an old school friend had gifted to him in a quiet corner of the bar. Alright... not all a dream. 

The crust was gone from his eyes, but he blinked a few more times for good measure. He strained to remember how he'd gotten home.  

Did he really drink that much? Had he been drugged? The wide-eyed wanna-be-photographers who had hung off his every word when he talked about his own first experiences with university didn't seem like the type. He raised a hand to pinch his brow. 

Eventually, he heaved a sigh and dropped his arm onto his chest. He was exhausted, and he debated just going back to sleep. While he stared deep in thought at his ceiling, his attention shifted to the wall above his head. It looked soft, like there was a circle of dense fog amidst all the plaster.  

He didn't even have time to think 'Yep, I've definitely been drugged,' before a huge hand emerged from the fog. It hovered over him for a moment, before it planted itself down beside his head. Mads' eyes widened as a head and shoulders followed after it, and a navy blue face full of black eyes were blinking down at him. 

"You're awake," said the figure, in what sounded like seven voices. 

Mads screamed. 

He flung himself up from the bed and the figure recoiled into the wall just quickly enough to avoid a headbutt into each of its five eyes. Mads collapsed against the wall opposite his bed as he tried to scramble away and tripped over a week's worth of clean laundry, unfolded on the floor. 

"Mads," the voice (voices?) echoed, seemingly coming from everywhere.  

Hearing his name in that tone struck enough courage in him to leap off the floor and make for his front door. The apartment was a small studio and it would only take a matter of strides to get there, but he was still too slow. 

The horrifying full figure of the creature slithered over to the doorway. Four arms spread out to block the door, and its neck craned against the ceiling to look down at him. Its stance was wide, and though it was thin, it was so tall that it completely took over this side of the apartment. 

Mads froze, quick to realise that escaping this way was futile. 

His whole body shook as its many eyes stared down at all five-foot-six of him. Eyes from everywhere; even the palms of its hands, and a giant one plastered in the middle of its stomach. 

It spoke again, from a crooked mouth nestled on the underside of its jaw. "We have to talk," it snapped, voice sharp with urgency.