A Short Story from Existential Fred

  Fred didn’t think therapy was a bad idea.

  He just thought it was a waste of time for him specifically.

  Still, Ben had insisted, and Fred, a man whurly dodged the unblinking gazes of creatures that did not belong to this world, figured a human therapist couldn’t be worse than his usual problems.

  He was wrong.

  The office was nice—soft blue walls, a ly anized bookshelf, a few pnts that looked suspiciously well-maintaihe air smelled faintly of vender and ile, probably from one of those little diffuser things that were supposed to make people feel safe and rexed.

  Fred did not feel safe or rexed.

  Dr. Caldwell sat across from him, a poised, well-dressed woman in her forties with sharp but calm eyes that missed nothing. Her pen hovered over her notepad, waiting.

  Fred sat on the couch, far too aware of the fact that it forced good posture. He had yet to say anything.

  Dr. Caldwell gave him a small, ral smile. “You seem tense, Fred.”

  Fred exhaled. “I have restiential crisis face. It’s geic.”

  Dr. Caldwell did not react.

  Fred felt his soul detach slightly.

  Okay. Dry humor wasn’t going to make this any easier.

  Dr. Caldwell adjusted her gsses. “Ben told me you were hesitant about therapy.”

  Fred snorted. “That’s a polite way of putting it.”

  “Why is that?”

  He sidered his words very carefully. There were only so many ways to say "I have seen the inprehensible face of existend it will not stop following me" without getting medicated against his will.

  Fred sighed. “I just don’t think talking about my problems will actually fix them.”

  Dr. Caldwell nodded, writing something down. Fred squirying to read it upside down. Did she just write “defle”??

  “So,” she said, “if talking won’t fix them… what do you think will?”

  Fred had many ao that.

  None of them would get him out of this session unscathed.

  He settled on: “I don’t know. But I doubt therapy’s gonna do it.”

  Dr. Caldwell simply nodded again.

  Fred felt himself beginning to sweat.

  Then something shifted behind her.

  Fred did not react.

  Because if he reacted, this was over.

  But he kly what had just ehe room.

  A slithering, wet noise filled the air, somethiween a squeld a low purr.

  Feye-Do had arrived.

  Fred forced himself to focus on Dr. Caldwell.

  She tilted her head slightly. “Fred?”

  Fred gritted his teeth. “Yeah?”

  “You just tensed up.”

  No shit.

  He forced a smile. “Just… thinking.”

  From the er of his vision, Feye-Do hovered he ceiling, pulsing slightly. A massive, floating eyeball with far too mah, its gaze locked onto Fred with delighted anticipation.

  Fred stared at Dr. Caldwell.

  Dr. Caldwell stared back, waiting.

  Feye-Do licked the air.

  Fred ched his jaw.

  “I see,” Dr. Caldwell said slowly. She flipped a page in her notepad. “Why don’t we start with something simple? What was your childhood like?”

  Feye-Do made a delighted, gurgling noise.

  Fred wao die.

  He took a breath. “Normal. B. Nothing to talk about.”

  Dr. Caldwell raised an eyebrow. “Beioned your mother was religious.”

  Fred immediately fshed back to Natasha shouting prayers at a Lovecraftian horror over a pte of griot.

  “…Yeah.”

  Dr. Caldwell g his expression and wrote something down.

  Fred didn’t o read it to know it was not good.

  Feye-Do drifted closer.

  A deep, wet g noise filled the air.

  Fred’s entire soul left his body.

  Dr. Caldwell blinked. “Are you alright?”

  Fred’s hands ched into fists. “I am perfectly fine.”

  Feye-Do was chewing on something invisible.

  ch.

  ch.

  Slrrrp.

  Fred pressed his lips together.

  “So,” Dr. Caldwell tinued, “your childhood—”

  Feye-Do started vibrating with joy.

  Fred had never wao it murder more in his life.

  Dr. Caldwell looked him over, frowning slightly. “You seem distracted.”

  No. Shit.

  Fred smiled a little too wide. “otally focused. Keep going.”

  Dr. Caldwell pursed her lips, then finally asked: “Fred… do you ever feel like something is watg you?”

  Fred heard Feye-Do cackle.

  Fred stood up immediately.

  Dr. Caldwell raised an eyebrow. “Is something wrong?”

  Fred smiled. It was not a sane smile.

  “Actually, I think I’m good. Great session. Really productive.” He grabbed his coat. “I’ll let Ben know I don’t herapy after all.”

  Dr. Caldwell opened her mouth to respond, but Fred was already halfway out the door.

  And then—

  Something shifted in the walls.

  Fred stopped just before stepping into the hallway.

  The air felt… wrong.

  Too still.

  Dr. Caldwell’s office had gone silent.

  Fred g the er of the room—

  Something moved.

  Not Feye-Do.

  Something else.

  Something that had been listening.

  Fred took one very slow step backward.

  He smiled at Dr. Caldwell. "Thanks for your time."

  Then he left.

  Ben was waiting outside in the car.

  Fred yanked open the door, slid into the passenger seat, and stared at the dashboard in exhausted silence.

  Ben watched him for a long moment.

  “…So,” Ben said, “how’d it go?”

  Fred let out a slow breath.

  “I'm a shining beaental health and stability.”

  Ben, barely holding back a smirk, reached into the ter sole and pulled out a bottle of iced tea. “Tea?”

  Fred closed his eyes and took the bottle.

  “Yeah. Tea.”