Alone

The light bulb was glowing blindingly bright.

Will Byers had to look away, shield his eyes against the light – and against the thing standing underneath it; that nightmare that his mind couldn't fully comprehend. In the very same second, he realized that looking away from it was a mistake. This was unlike like his usual nightmares; in a flash of panicked clarity he knew that looking away or pinching himself wouldn't just make it disappear. He had to…

He didn't have the time to do anything.

A high-pitched chitter reached his ears and then the chill swept over him. Ice cold, it washed away every semblance of feeling, wrenched away every attempt at action from Will. It crept into every fiber of his body, and it was as if he were paralyzed. Even just opening his eyes again was impossible. Behind his eyelids, the light was burning brighter and brighter. He screamed.

And then the light was gone. Will gasped sharply, as feeling rushed back into his body.

The first thing his mind registered was the biting cold. His bones felt like ice. Then the damp. Cool moisture settled on his skin. It's October, his mind protested, the night shouldn't be this cool yet.

We played D&D. I rolled a seven. The Demogorgon got me. I was driving home…

Its face opened up.

Will ripped his eyes open.

And clasped both hands over his mouth to stifle his scream.

The thing was with him in the shed. It now faced away from him, standing so close that Will could have reached out and touched it. The scream kept fighting to escape from his mouth, but if it did he knew he would be dead, so Will bit it down with all his might. He tasted iron on his tongue. The small non-panicking part of his consciousness slowly registered that it wasn't attacking him yet. It was just there; still as a statue. As if it was waiting for something.

Will took a small, slow step backwards. His hands were empty. The gun he had picked up and loaded was gone; he had no memory if he even fired it, and in this moment it hardly mattered. All he knew was that he had to get out of here. Without the creature noticing. Somehow. Will had to force his legs to move, his wide eyes locked on the pale, scarred back of the creature. What if that turned into a giant mouth, too? Didn't it just twitch? It took everything in him not to just bolt for the exit.

Miraculously, the old wood didn't make a sound – not even a creak – as he cracked open the door. Somewhere in the back of his mind he registered that it looked old and rotten, and it left a sticky substance on his fingers. He cast a look back. The monster still hadn't moved.

With two quick steps he was outside, still not daring to breathe. He resisted the urge to slam the door shut behind him. The night was darker and colder than before, but he couldn't care about that, either. His state of mind only allowed the most basic input: Get away. Slowly. Quietly. For God's sake; don't make a sound. One foot moved in front of the other, until he'd reached the edge of the trees. Then his pent up fear finally broke through and burst out in a sharp, loud gasp. In his ears it rang like a gunshot. His eyes flicked back to the shed, but nothing was moving.

Monster.

There was no thought behind what he did next. He'd just seen a monster. And it attacked him. Every logic demanded that he ran for someone who could help; the police if possible. But Will couldn't think that clearly. His mind was stuck on monster. Blind to anything other than his next two steps, he took off into the woods; running deeper inside as fast as he could.

Run. Get away.

He saw a familiar shape between the trees.

Again, there was no logical thought. Will hurried towards the shape, pulled the rooted blanket covering the entrance aside and climbed inside the tiny wooden hut. He collapsed onto the floor, breathing heavily. Safe.

Castle Byers had always been his protection against the monsters, ever since he and his brother built it. Only friends could come in here. He was safe.

It was a straw to clutch at and on some level Will was aware of that, but he had nothing else. He lay down amidst the pillows and blankets, and waited for the nightmare to be over.

An endless time later, he thought he heard something moving outside the fort, and he felt his breathing stop for a second time. His body went rigid like a statue, refusing to make even the slightest of movements. Nightmare or no, his fear was very real. There was a strange noise; like an animal's chitter. Then silence.

Will started to breathe again. He couldn't even begin to comprehend what was out there, or how his sleepy mind could have come up with it; and it terrified him more than anything else ever had. He buried deeper into the blankets like a butterfly in a cocoon, willing himself to fall asleep – and hopefully wake up safe at home. His limbs felt heavy, like he'd just run a marathon; and right now that was good. He could already feel his conscious starting to slip.

The last thought in his head before he drifted off was that usually, in all the other nightmares, he could never reach Castle Byers. Why in this one?

Somehow he must have actually fallen asleep (could you really fall asleep in a nightmare?), because the next thing Will felt was him lying sprawled amidst the blankets, with something gooey clinging to his cheek. For one hopeful second he imagined he was just waking up in his bed and had drooled in his sleep. When he opened his eyes, he would be at home, with the smell of his brother cooking breakfast wafting through the door and another normal school day ahead of him.

Then the chill returned, and he was not lying on his bed, and his lungs were filled with something that wasn't the cold night air of Hawkins; and he was afraid to open his eyes.

When he did, it at first didn't seem to make any difference. The world was still black. Had home always smelled this foul? Had it always been so dark? This still felt like the nightmare.

Will shut his eyes once again and pinched himself. "I'm awake." he said aloud. It came out throaty and hoarse. There was bile at the back of his throat. He swallowed thickly, suppressing the urge to vomit. No; this definitely couldn't be a dream. It felt too real. He counted to three, then opened his eyes and tried to see through the darkness a second time.

Slowly, as his eyes adjusted, the silhouettes of round logs emerged from the gloom. Will slowly sat up, throwing off the blankets. He was still in Castle Byers. The chill was still there, too; as became evident when a shiver went through him, rattling his teeth.

When he'd gathered his courage and stepped outside, the world around him was a dark tint of blue and black. The sun hadn't risen yet, or so Will thought until he looked up and realized he couldn't see the sky at all. The trees were still there in their place, just like Castle Byers; but they were bare; leafless, and covered in the same substance as everything else. It's like a shadow world, Will thought, almost eerily calmly. I'm in a shadow world.

He wasn't a little child anymore. Well; right now he was scared like one; but, really, he had never been brave in his life. When Troy and his friends marched up to them in the yard and threw slurs at his face, he looked at his feet and took it; because he was a coward. Running away from problems was his specialty. Denying them; he excelled at that, too.

But at some point he couldn't just chalk this up to being a nightmare anymore. Not when every logic – no; this wasn't logical; this was just pure survival instinct – demanded otherwise. All this around him was surreal; like a fantasy; but he was very much awake. His senses told him so. Listen to your senses, Mr. Clark taught them. Which meant that this was real. He was really in this dark and slimy place – and so was the monster from the shed.

His stack of pencils and drawing paper was still lying on the table; covered in slime and dust like nobody had used them in ages. Will took up some with the least amount of grime covering it and started to put down the image that wouldn't leave his mind.

The monster began to take shape; stroke by stroke. He'd only seen it clearly for a split second, but that had been enough to permanently imprint itself in his memory. And drawing was the one thing he was good at. When Will put down the pencil and looked at it, the realization that this couldn't be a nightmare only deepened: even asleep, his brain could never come up with something as twisted as the thing staring back at him from the page.

It's still out there.

I have to get out of here.

How?

A sound from outside made him jump.

Somehow, the shadow woods seemed more menacing the second time he stepped outside. Something had changed; Will could feel it even though none of his senses could confirm the impression. The blue tint to everything seemed to have grown more intense, and it was unsettling: it distorted the trails that he'd run through so many times, to the point that when Will spun around his own axis, he couldn't tell which direction he'd come from; where their house was. He couldn't see further than a couple of meters, beyond which the small rest of light didn't reflect anymore. A shiver went up his spine. He was reminded of the first and only time he'd been on stage for a school play, when the stage lights had fallen on him and he'd forgotten everything he was meant to do; looking to all the world like a deer in the headlights. He'd hated that feeling; the eyes of everyone on him and seeing every part of him while he couldn't see past the blinding lights.

This, right now, was the same feeling, except even more terrifying. Because at least in the school theatre he had known what lay beyond his tiny field of vision; where the stage ended and the rows of waiting people began. Here, anything could hide in the shadows watching him, and being laughed at seemed like a ridiculous thing to be frightened of all of a sudden.

Will was only too aware that he was scaring himself with these kinds of thoughts. He forced himself to normalize his ragged breathing. If he started to jump at every shadow, he would never even get out of this forest.

Then one of the shadows moved up ahead.

Will froze in place as the monster crept into the clearing. It moved slowly, smoothly, measuring every step like a cat stalking a mouse.

Whatever hope Will might have had left that it had all been a bad dream dissolved on the spot, because the thing looked almost exactly like he'd drawn it. Except even more terrifying. And it was just a couple of meters away.

It was a nightmare come to life. Its body seemed to have been drained of all color: a grey head rested on a grey torso, adjoined to a pair of ghostly pale limbs. The arms were inhumanly long, ending in long, sharp claws. But the most frightening part was the head. There were no ears, no eyes; no anything that resembled a face. Just gnarled skin, folded in on itself to open up into a giant mouth, as Will knew.

The boy's heart was beating in his throat, so loudly that he was sure the monster must hear it. Demogorgon, he thought. Somehow, the monster from their game had actually come for him.

Its head was turning from side to side, like it was sniffing the air with a nose that wasn't there. And it was coming closer. Inch by inch, it moved towards Castle Byers and its terrified inhabitant.

In his panic, Will was suddenly hyper aware of everything around him. The slimy cold of the castle logs pressing into his back. The leaves and vines cracking underneath the Demogorgon's feet. And the drawing of the monster that he was still clutching like his life depended on it. A hopeless, crazy thought flashed through his mind and he crumpled the paper in his hands. Loudly.

The Demogorgon's head snapped around to him.

Will the Wise casts Decoy.

He threw the paper as far away as he could. It landed in a heap of rotted leaves, maybe 15 meters to his right. A heartbeat later, the leaves went flying as the Demogorgon tore into the heap, ripping everything to shreds, but Will wasn't around to see it; he was running with all he had in the opposite direction.

It took all his willpower not to look over his shoulder. He couldn't afford to. The muddy ground beneath him was treacherous enough in the gloom even when he put all his attention to it. Where was the street? The woods he'd grown up in were completely unrecognizable, and he could only hope that he was running in the right direction. And that that – Demogorgon – hadn't already figured out the trick.

Soon, his sides started to ache. He had to slow down. The gloom didn't recede when he got closer to the edge of the forest; no sunlight breaking through anywhere. It was as if a thick blanket had been thrown over the world, barely letting in any light. The air was filled with tiny floating objects, almost like snow. But whereas snow would have settled on the trees or on his clothing, these things seemed to dance around him. Almost as if they were alive.

Will remembered what Mr. Clark had once said about radioactive pollution. Was this what it looked like? His Science teacher had added that it was unlikely to ever happen in Indiana, but clearly something must have happened. Something terrible. Will couldn't understand it. He had just been on his way home, and everything had been normal. And what had happened to his friends?

The thought made him stop abruptly. Why was he only thinking of them now? Were they now erring through this twisted place just like he was? That image brought a fresh rush of adrenaline. In an emergency, the party had to be together; alone they were lost. He had to find them. Will took in a deep breath of polluted air and started to run once again.

When finally the outline of a house appeared between the trees, he almost cried with relief. He was breathing heavily from the exertion, but his steps quickened until he reached the front porch. He didn't know who lived here and he didn't dare shout for help, not with the monster still somewhere behind him, so he knocked on the door as quietly as he could, hoping that someone in there was awake.

The door fell of his hinges at the lightest touch, hitting the floor with a loud thud.

Will stood in the doorframe, paralyzed. The inside of the house, what little he could see in the darkness, was just as rotten and decayed as Castle Byers. Nobody came out of the gloom to answer the door. No human, at least. Instead, from somewhere in the woods, a high pitched chittering rose in answer to the noise. It sounded almost like laughter.

Will ran.

Three desolate streets and an immeasurable amount of time later, Will Byers was getting increasingly desperate.

He had found the Sinclair's house just as abandoned and lifeless as the first. There was no sign of Lucas, or his parents, nor even his noisy little sister. There was nobody anywhere. His friend was just gone; his bike and wrist rocket lying abandoned in the garage like forgotten toys. Seeing that was almost worse than having no sign of him at all.

Perhaps everyone had been evacuated, Will told himself. He had to believe that; the other possibilities were too horrible to imagine.

He discovered Lucas' supercom underneath the bed, where he usually put it. He tried to signal all their secret frequencies, but without getting an answer. There was just static.

The pollution had to be blocking the signal. That's what it was.

He moved on, further into the town. Every house he passed was in the same desolate state: The mayor's spacious mansion; its iron gates hanging off their hinges like broken wings. Mr. Clark's little home squeezed in between the grocery store and the cinema; with no music drifting out the windows. High Street with all its stores; their shutters either pulled down or ripped out and lying in the streets. With every one of them he passed and every minute without another human being anywhere, the lump of bile and panic in Will's throat grew and grew, until he was struggling to breathe.

When he stumbled past a row of electricity pylons onto a neatly kept little lawn, Will almost didn't register where his feet had taken him.

The Wheeler's house stood out a shadow against the black sky; its windows broken and the glass crunching beneath Will's feet. He entered through the basement door and looked around. The TV was still there; so was the ancient couch sitting opposite it. He could see the VHS of The Empire Strikes Back lying right there; exactly where they'd left it after the last sleepover. It was so normal and real that Will almost cried.

For a moment, he forgot about the strange world out there, and the monster chasing him. The familiarity of the room enveloped him like a cocoon, wrapping him up tightly in its warmth. "You're so cheesy sometimes, Will." Mike's voice echoed in his head in response, and for the first time since opening his eyes, Will laughed. He could practically see his friend laughing with him as he came down the basement steps, carrying a bag of popcorn for their long movie night. Mike glanced up at him standing by the couch and smiled brightly. It was still just as hopelessly crooked as when they were in kindergarten. And just like then, Will had no choice but to smile back.

For a second, the image was real enough to touch. Then the chill crept back into his skin, and the steps were crawling with vines; the couch rotting and moldy. Will blinked and Mike was gone. Never there in the first place. The room was just as empty as the rest of the world. Will's smile faltered; slipped off his lips and fell, shattering into a million pieces on the floor. Mike wasn't here. He was completely alone.

Of course he's not here; it must be deep in the night; Mike is sleeping already. You idiot, Byers.

The slimy steps gave a sickening slurping noise as he went up. They grabbed at his shoes, trying to yank them off his feet and letting go only reluctantly. Will kept moving as if in a trance. A hopeful part of his mind tugged him forward, towards the promise of a friendly face and some comfort. The rational part already knew what he would find when he reached the top.

Still, when he stepped into the bare, empty room, it was as if his last support had been abruptly kicked out from underneath him. Nothing. No one. Empty. I'm alone. Every ounce of energy seemed to drain from his body. Will collapsed onto the bed and cried. There wasn't anyone around to see, so he wasn't even ashamed.

Everything Mike owned was still there in its usual chaos. Everything was there, except the one thing that mattered. He should be here, Will's heart insisted. He could practically hear Mrs. Wheeler shout for him to come down; breakfast was ready.

It was not until his friend's instantly recognizable sleepy-annoyed "Coming!" sounded in answer that Will realized he could actually hear them.

"Mike?!" Will jolted off the bed, looking around wildly. "Mike! Where are you?!"

"You look like you got trampled Mike." Nancy's voice said from somewhere in the hallway. Will's head snapped around to the sound. He was definitely not imaging it. He tripped over his feet in his haste to follow.

"It was a long night, we had fun. What's your excuse? Were you pining after Steeevie again?"

"I'm not – pining! It's called studying."

"Sure."

"You're such an idiot."

"Mike, I'm right here!" Will screamed again. They were both right there; why didn't they listen to him?! Their voices sounded oddly distant, as if he was hearing them through a pipe. And more importantly; they weren't here. Will ran up and down the staircase, following the echoes, but he couldn't see Mike or his sister anywhere. And they didn't react to his shouting. As if he wasn't here.

"Mike…" Will trailed off, his voice getting lost in the silence.

"Mike?"

"Hm? Sorry, mum. I just thought – never mind. I'm coming."

Shadow Dimension. Occupying the same space as our world, yet only running parallel to it. Can only be accessed by shadow walk.

Will's thoughts were racing; the jumbled puzzle pieces finally connecting and starting to make sense. They couldn't hear him. He could hear them. The bright light. The alien yet familiar world outside, mirroring Hawkins in its own dark and twisted manner.

The monster hadn't transformed his world; somehow, it must have transported him into its own. He was trapped in a shadow dimension. An actual shadow dimension. Will felt dizzy. Was his body still there, in the shed? If not, would Jonathan and his mother miss him already? Were they looking for him?

Irrelevant questions, chastised a voice in his head that sounded like Lucas. Focus on the here and now. This is important.

Yeah; how do we get out? added Dustin's characteristic lisped, optimistic tone. Come on guys; there's always a way.

"Portal." Will answered, aloud. It had to be; the monster had to have come from somewhere. This was simply a task in a game; like the party traversing a dangerous map with a hard to reach exit to the next stage hidden somewhere. He had to find that place, and then he could get back. "I can get back!" Will proclaimed, trying to make it sound less small than he felt. It still sounded unconvinced to his ears. This wasn't really D&D and he was just a kid; he didn't really have any magic. All he was good for was running and hiding.

What do you think, Will? said Mike right beside him, his image squeezing Will's shoulder in encouragement. In the damp shadows, it radiated warmth. We've been in worse situations before, haven't we? You've survived worse. Now off your arse and let's do this!

Will took a deep breath and got up. The real Mike was probably biking to school right now. If Will didn't show up there, he would be worried. They'd all be. And his mother – she was already worrying about him all the time; he couldn't do this to her on top of everything. He owed it to them to get out.

There was a high-pitched, now very familiar noise. Will looked through the window and saw the shadow creeping towards the house.

Don't panic, he told himself; more or less successfully. He trailed his eyes across Mike's room, then snatched up two handfuls of toys and stepped back to the window. And prepared for another decoy. Hopefully that trick would work a second time, and long enough for him to get away.

Come on, Will the Wise, whispered a voice in his head – his own; and oddly encouraging. Shoot your cabbages. Hide. And run.

Just don't stop.

I finally got to updating this again (victory fanfare!). Thanks to everyone who's still sticking around, or any newcomers. I've kinda turned these coming chapters into a self-exercise for writing different kinds of atmosphere - I think it's pretty obvious what this one is meant to be. Let me know if it works or if it feels off. My goal here is to improve, after all.

(And to everyone who might be waiting for an Easy to Love update; it's in the works; don't throw cabbages at me!)