Invisible Strings

I remember what happened that day. It came to me like a jolt in my brain. Every detail of that day. I know, why I woke up with dried eyes. I know, why my psychiatrist was here. He called me, very early in the day. He sounded worried and in a hurry. It felt weird, my psychiatrist calling me for a session in my house.

He arrived at my house an hour after the phone call. He brought this fine whiskey. We sat at my kitchen table. I asked him "What is going on?". He pour two glasses. One for me, of course. He looked frantic. He said, "I needed to come. I remember." I keep quiet, he continued talking. It felt more like a confession. "Everything feels connected. Like an invisible string. Every time, I.. No. We have our sessions. It feels on repeat. Sometimes, we are meeting for the first time. Other times, we knew each other and I recommended you to another doctor. I even have it wrote down, but the next day. Everything resets, we forget  the session. Our session"

He drank his entire glass, then pour himself another one. I was taking small sips. It was very early. He looked around and continue on. " This time, it bleed into me. Memories. Years of resetting. It bleed from my subconscious. Yesterday, I felted like two different persons. The outsider looking in and the guy present not knowing and playing his part.  Candle Cove. You know, how many times we had that discussion?" He looked at me , waiting for an answer. I didn't know how to answer. He smiled and looking down at his glass. He drank the entire thing again. I'm almost finish with mine. He pours mine  and then himself again.

"I knew it. They have gotten to you again. I will tell you then. About 100 times. Sometimes, we change what we say. But the outcome is still the same. We been having similar sessions, without any progress." The light that was coming from my windows darken a bit, I stood up and turn on the lights. I sat back down.  "You know what's funny. I played along in some versions. Like a puppet." He finished his drink, yet again. He pours another one for himself. He looked scared. Not wanting to say the other bit. I believe, he was drinking to get the courage to talk.

"I have met the young man. I know, what they are. I know, why they have followed us. We. You know, you and me, we are the children of the cove. The children of that thing. It's weird, I find it pleasant. The same as you have mentioned before. We were more than us. I know, we were. We have to be."

I drank my whiskey.  I was shocked. I quickly ask, who is the young man? He answered, "He is one of many. The ones that aren't chosen to spread the seed. The ones who represent it. Think of them as mixture of prophet and soldier. They represent the many and the one." I didn't understand. I went blank. I looked around the kitchen. Everything got dark. I could hear it. The soothing sounds. I saw the doctor's face turned pale. I felted that cold fear in my body. We both knew, what was to come.