Cold and empty and clawing inside. Agony and nothingness 

Saber woke up with a start. Cold sweat clung to his skin. His breaths came out short and frantic, as if he were still being chased. The room around him was as dark as it had been when he climbed into bed. 

Saber discovered the reason for this as he checked the time on his phone. He’d been asleep for less than an hour. 

“Echo?” Saber whispered to the empty room. 

[Saber?] 

In the past two days Echo had become essential for Saber’s piece of mind. Echo was the only other person in the world who understood what Saber was going through. What they were going through together. 

“I keep…dreaming,” Echo pulled his knees to his chest. 

[People tend to do that when they sleep] 

“You know what I mean!” Saber hissed as he glared out at the room. His annoyance melted under the fear lingering from the dream, “It’s not like any dream I’ve had before. I think- I think something’s waiting for me. Is it something from that place? From the veil? Because I swear it can see-”

[Don’t] 

Echo never sounded so harsh or frightened before. 

[It’s best not to talk about it]

“Ok,” Saber said, meekly, “I won’t talk about it.” 

The sound of the hotel aircon unit sputtered on with a dramatic rattle-woosh. The fan filled the room with a steady hum. Outside Saber could hear the sound of sirens. They moved close, then far away, reminding Saber that no one could come to his rescue. 

“Are you sure I can’t meet your family? They do all this, right? Maybe they could help me.” 

[It won’t end well, Saber. They’re a last resort. Ok?] 

“Ok.” 

Saber didn’t think he could go back to sleep. He didn’t know if he wanted to. If he did he might have to see that ********* 

The floorboards from the room above creaked. 

Saber looked up. 

There wasn’t much to see. An ugly beige popcorn ceiling cast in orange by the traffic lights outside and a minimalist oval light fixture that probably passed as office chic fifteen years prior. Saber could never understand why hotels insisted on identical, boring, lacking-any-statement piece furnishings. Saber would’ve preferred staying in one of those godawful themed sex hotels. At least then he’d have something to look at while he avoided sleeping. 

It wasn’t until Saber’s eyes started burning that he finally let them close. 

Mistake. 

Rookie mistake that Saber would apparently be repeating for the rest of his life. 

The ‘paws’ Saber saw in the room above the night before were back. This time they were standing squared above Saber’s bed. And they weren’t the only point of interest either. 

A large, squared, reptilian head stuck out of the ceiling. It looked like the creature was ducking its head into a pond to snap up a fish-If the pond were Saber’s ceiling and Saber were the fish. 

The creature shifted its head to the side and eyed Saber with rectangular pupils. The pupils contracted with interest as Saber brought a hand up to cover up the scream trying to break free from his chest. A forked tongue tasted the air and the creature’s neck elongated, moving closer to Saber. 

Saber opened his eyes. 

[No! Saber, it saw you! Close your eyes!] 

Saber closed his eyes. 

The lizard was even closer. Its scaly lips parted as the tongue flitted out against Saber’s cheek. In the orange light of the streetlamps Saber could see rows and rows of sharpened teeth. 

Saber flattened himself on the bed in an attempt to get away. 

[Get off the bed!]

Saber gripped one side of the bed and yanked himself towards it. He tumbled off the side ungracefully. He scrambled to his feet as the creature dropped through the ceiling. It bounced as it hit the bed. Its weight created a divot in the bedding that made Saber curious. 

So he opened his eyes. 

The divot was still there. 

And it was shifting towards him. 

“I thought you said they weren’t real!” 

[They’re as real as you believe they are] 

“Then why didn’t you let me keep believing they’re not real!” Saber, eyes closed once again, darted towards the bathroom door. 

[Seeing is believing, Saber]

“I fucking hate-” Saber’s words were cut off as a giant weight barreled into his side. The lizard launched itself off the bed, right onto Saber. The lizard's claws dug into Saber’s shoulders and stomach. He could feel them breaking the skin. 

Fear coursed through his veins. The same fear he felt when the stage lights exploded above him. The same fear he’d felt running down the hallway as gunshots rang out. Fear for survival. 

Fight or flight. 

There was no flight, not with a creature roughly the size of a polar bear pinning Saber down. 

Unfortunately there wasn’t much fight either. 

Saber was a 5’6’’ twink who weighed 130lbs soaking wet. He’d never so much as been in a friendly school yard tussle. Sure he had muscle. He was a dancer, a performer. But that didn’t translate at all to self defense.

Given all that, Saber did what he could. What he could do, as it turns out, was pathetically pummel his fists against the lizard’s snout. 

It wasn’t very effective. At least not at causing damage. It did have the unintended effect of making the lizard sneeze. Which gave Echo time to suggest Saber’s next move. 

[Tell it to leave!] 

To Saber, that sounded useless. But he was desperate. So he complied. 

But when Saber opened his mouth the word that came out wasn’t ‘leave.’ Nor was it ‘get out’ or ‘fuck off’ or perhaps ‘kind sir please relinquish my mortal vessel.’ It wasn’t a word that Saber knew. 

In fact, the moment it left Saber’s lips, he forgot it. Like sand crumbling through his fingers. The sensation of it leaving left more impact than the action itself. On Saber, anyways. The creature, however, was greatly affected. 

As soon as the word rang out in the space the creature’s form shook, it went blurry at the edges and its claws began to phase through Saber the way they’d phased through the ceiling. 

Saber took the creature's temporary incorporeality to spring up and put some distance between himself and it. 

[The kitchenette! Get the salt packets!] 

Since Echo had yet to lead him astray, Saber followed the odd instruction dutifully. He grabbed a handful of reusable cutlery packs and tore them all open at once. Several plastic forks fell to the ground, clattering against the square of tile in front of the kitchenette. Saber dumped the salt and pepper packets into his hand. 

The lizard began to regain its form. Saber could feel his whole body shaking. His throat felt tight enough to choke him and he was pretty sure his blood wasn’t reaching his fingers. 

“Now what?” 

The lizard tilted its head to the side again. Its square pupil expanded as it began to slither across the floor towards Saber. 

[Throw the salt!] 

Saber threw a packet. 

The lizard was startled into stillness, but remained unharmed. 

[Outside of the packet, Saber] 

Embarrassment burned on Saber’s cheeks. He ripped three packets of salt open at once and cast them out towards the lizard. To Saber’s immense shock, it was wildly effective. 

A hissing, sizzling sound filled the air accompanied by the scent of charred meat. The creature dissolved in on itself. It tried to scrabble backwards. Tried to shake off the salt. But the granules were already embedded in its flesh. 

The whole affair took less than a minute. 

And Saber was alone. In a room full of spilled salt and pepper. 

Saber sneezed.