Nighttime Horrorville

I keep having nightmares. But I can’t tell if they are visions of the future or mirages in the desert. Perhaps they are just my nighttime horrors that I can’t shake even in the brightest of daylights.

These dead things haunt me, even in my waking hours.

Rotting skeletons are crying out their stories in mere whispers, they beg me to listen they want me to know. But I don’t know what it is they are trying to tell me. They say: “Help me. I am dead, I need you. Stop this infection from spreading. Growing inside me like a mold built only to corrupt.” I cannot look away. The horror is spreading.

I wake and turn over. Wolf isn’t here to guard my dreams, I curl around a large stuffed toy like a child and cry until I can finally go back to sleep.

Riots are breaking out, people are screaming, being trampled others move into help but they are useless the chaos is too great and they only get swallowed up by the masses and become victims of the terror and corruption. I am watching from the classroom of eternal knowledge. I am in the only place I have ever felt safe and innocent. The teacher wants us to figure out a math problem to describe the violence. I can’t look away from the screen. I struggle to get out of my chair, but I’m not in my chair. I’m strapped down flat and I’m forced to watch it continue.

Again I wake, this time my throat is raw like I’ve been screaming. I can’t figure out what it is I’ve done to deserve this. I look around me; the light is barely shining in through my window. I’m scared and alone.

I’ve been here before. A dark parking lot that seems to stretch out into nothingness. There are trees on the outskirts maybe one or two but mostly there is just him and me. I can’t see him. I smell him, and I smell fear. “You scared of me?” There I went, over confident as always when will I ever learn? I hear foot steps running circles but still I see nothing but the empty parking lot, glowing in the light of the moon. “Don’t play with me, just come out and face me--” then I was on he ground, out of breath looking up at nothing but the moon and a shadowed figure. I never even saw it jump me. A tasteless piece of cloth was shoved in my mouth and a bag was pulled over my head. A sharp pain in my arm and everything went dizzy as I realized that there was a needle in my arm. I twisted pulled and only succeeded in terrifying myself further. Fear took over and finally I passed out. I was left in darkness, scared and alone.

I am never favored with dreams that make me smile; always I am plagued by nighttime dramatics that would terrify even the hardest horror fanatic. I am just a pawn in my dreams. a victim and an observer. Never can I save anyone. Not even myself.

There is the sound of an old floor creaking and the stench of something sterile. My eyes were heavy, tired. They didn’t want to open, I forced them. I moved with the sluggish quality of a drugged animal. Tired and weak I tried to get up only to strike my head roughly against the cage’s bars. I groaned, the sound of someone hurt echoed throughout the walls and only confused me more. I was tired, and sick. But sleep was not an option. I looked around me; my nearly useless eyes caught sight of something shiny, a glass bottle. I reached through the bars praying that my arms were long enough to reach it. Finally after what seemed like hours, the bottle was in my grip. I read the writing. CODINE. It was a clear liquid and on the tray was an injection needle. I felt like I was swirling and then suddenly I was back on the floor. The bottle was back on the table this time out of reach. I felt normal again, not as tired but still unnatural. There was a man in the corner. I could smell him he stunk compared to the cleanness of the room. It as then that I realized it was bleach. Everything had been washed in bleach, and scrubbed until it was smooth to the touch. Even me. I had no scent there was nothing to track me with, there was no one who would find me. I was completely and utterly alone. I think it was then that I started screaming.

I can’t sleep without Wolf nearby, if I try to then they always come back.

The doctor had me again. But this time there were no bottles to be seen, only needles. I couldn’t see his face only his hands. They were cold and gloved gripping my arm hard enough to bruise. I tried to pull away but he still had me, he wouldn’t let me go. The needles changed colors there was a clear one, a yellow one, a brown one. They all did different things. I was scared, terrified really. There was nothing I could do. No where left to run. No one to come looking. I was going to die and it was going to be painful and slow.

I’m scared of my dreams. How am I supposed to sleep if I can’t breathe unless I’m awake?