A short story that brings to light what might happen to those unfortunate souls who come face to face with The Static Man…
by: Christian Barragan
Brittany watched with delight as her friend Celio blended into the foliage behind her. Her feet pounded against the brittle debris of the forest as she worked to maintain her speed. Ordinarily, he’d be far ahead. They had played this game of chicken countless times in the past several years, and she had never won. She radiated with excitement, knowing this time could be different.
The “winner” was simply the one who made it closer to the “Static House.” The house was located deep in the forest at the edge of Gloamveil. Neither Brittany nor Celio had ever seen the house and only knew they were going in the right direction because the path had been marked at the forest’s entrance. There, a hastily painted sign warned potential explorers of the coming strain on their bio-electromagnetic fields, or BEMF, should they get too close. On the sign, several stick figures emanated mild blue glimmers that gently intersected with each other. In contrast, an electric cacophony exploded from the abyss depicted at the mouth of the forest, zapping the closest figures. Not entirely scientific, but visually effective. At least, for most people.
As one approached the house, the vegetation withered and the sounds of wildlife diminished. What the mural refused to directly address was how the house itself had no hand in the abnormalities. Growing up, Brittany had readily absorbed the legends of the “Static Man” occupying the house. These tales added some flavor to an otherwise uninteresting neighborhood. She advanced through the thinning flora, preparing her mind and body for the coming exertion.
Before the Static Man, hardly anyone in Gloamveil could even define bioelectromagnetism. The word burned in Brittany’s mouth. It sounded too stiff, too impersonal. According to what she’d heard, the Static Man’s BEM field had first shown signs of abnormality as it was developing in his childhood. It was new scientific terrain, which was why it took so long to recognize his condition, though no one could find a cause. The boy’s BEM field was so wildly out of sync with everyone else’s that it was unbearable to be around him. It was unlike anything anyone had come across.
Those who had spent significant time around the boy reported visual and auditory hallucinations. Those with even minimal proximity reported high cortisol levels and depleted motivation. As he aged, the issues only grew worse. He was forced out of public school. Animals wouldn’t come close to him, and plants would wilt if he stayed around them too long. His parents, uninvolved from the start, went mad from the sheer exposure. The boy’s BEM field eventually extended to an abnormally large size, necessitating his complete isolation. Supposedly he moved into the Static House once he reached adulthood, eager to escape the glares of his neighbors. It all sounded very fantastical, but everyone swore it was true.
Brittany had harbored a secret hope of seeing the Static Man one day, but the house was genuinely difficult to approach. Though she was glad to be ahead of Celio, she knew what awaited her. It happened every time she entered the forest, and would only worsen the further she ventured. An overbearing sense of dread and lethargy would slowly build around her. Then came the shadows and voices. Figures danced in the peripheries of her vision and ghostly echoes resonated as her senses were increasingly provoked. And yet she would always push herself as far as she possibly could. Back home, the unfortunate nexus point of several antagonistic wavelengths, her overly sensitive BEMF left her in a near-constant state of fatigue. Every twinge of discomfort running toward the Static House brought her some solace knowing her BEMF could still interact properly. Even if the interaction was with a field as erratic as the Static Man’s. Away from Gloamveil, with Celio, she could tell her BEMF still hadn’t been tainted by the turbulence that awaited her at home. At least the hallucinations she experienced in the forest were random. Frantic. Impersonal.
The forest never seemed to have as much of an effect on Celio, but he never ran much further than Brittany did. He claimed he didn’t need to since he’d already won the game, but she figured he was also wary of facing the same consequences. This time, however, she’d already run much further than ever without feeling any change.
Ignoring her better judgment, Brittany jogged past several landmarks she only knew from Celio’s descriptions. A tree bent out of shape. Some rocks left in a circle. A telescope nest. They were all dated, remnants of a time when more people shared interest in this abnormality. Even near the entrance, she hadn’t seen anyone in months. She and Celio had this stretch of forest to themselves.
Celio was nowhere to be found. Perhaps he’d already given up. Unable to hear anything that would indicate trouble, she continued. This was her chance to come out on top.
Brittany ignored the stickiness in her lungs. She ignored the weight in her legs. She could almost feel the air crackling around her like she belonged there more than anywhere else in the world.
The sparse treeline came to an abrupt opening and Brittany brought herself to a stop. A simple wooden structure came into view as her breath caught up with her. She knew what she was looking at, but had pictured it differently. The house wasn’t nearly as old as she thought and looked surprisingly taken care of, though a bit worn by the elements. She barely had time to take in the mythical sight when it was upstaged by a figure passing in front of the open door.
Brittany froze in place. There was nothing near enough to duck behind. A pang of nervousness surged through her body, but she swallowed the urge to run. The man had already locked eyes with her. He seemed just as surprised to see her. His confusion intensified with every passing second, like he couldn’t believe she hadn’t run away yet. Brittany’s memory flooded with all the silhouettes she’d seen leering behind the trees over the years. None of those same shadows crossed the vacuous space between them. The hundred questions she had harbored for this scenario dissolved in the focused stillness.
He was younger than she thought he’d be. She‘d pictured a decrepit old man, worn by his misfortunes and bitter at the world that rejected him. There was a familiar sadness in his eyes, but it paired with a hopeful liveliness. He closed his eyes in concentration and let out a revelrous sigh as if stepping into the sun for the first time. After a few moments, he opened his eyes and offered a weak wave. Remaining silent, he backed into the house and closed the door.
Brittany resisted the urge to go touch the house. Seeing it was enough. She hurried back the way she came, intermittently glancing at the structure as it shrank behind her, only slowing when the vegetation returned. She felt a rush of guilt for the pleasure she took in these races. Not toward the Static House or against Celio, but away from her life.
A voice rang out from the trees. Brittany’s heart sank for a moment before she recognized it as Celio’s, calling out to her. She spotted him trudging toward her from the crest of a hill. He called out again, his voice tired and uneven.
Brittany stopped beside a spread of wild violets, savoring the soothing display. She cupped one of them in her hands, pondering the reality of a solitary life. As Brittany’s breath calmed, she wondered at what point she had left Celio behind, knowing he probably wouldn’t want to play this game anymore.
As the flower wilted in her hand, she hoped she was right.
Christian Barragan is a graduate from California State University Northridge. Raised in Riverside, CA, he aims to become a novelist or editor. He currently reads submissions for Flash Fiction Magazine. His work has appeared in the Raven Review, the Frogmore Papers, and Caustic Frolic, among others.
