Updated: Jan 12, 2020
Wrestle with covers, roll left, roll right, then left again. Knees click as you extend your legs. Distant screams in the night penetrate your ears and then disappear in the depths of your delirium. Headlights pass by, casting ominous shadows all around you. Monsters and madmen with malicious intent, fighting the oncoming light in search of their latest victim. The sudden illumination passes as fast as it arrived. Trapped somewhere hopeless and bleak. For at least now all is dark once more. Time seems to stand still but your restless limbs struggle to follow suit. Thoughts of today, memories of years past, dreams of tomorrow, flood your mind with questions of what if. No more regrets you say, coaxing yourself to move on, move past what you’ve lost. Small steps at first, but now you quicken your pace. With no reason you now sprint towards a house at the far end of the street. A house where no one knows your name, one you never have seen. Sweat saturates your shirt, lungs ache from the cold air, still faster you run. Short of breath you arrive at the steps of the old Victorian style house. Paint is chipping off the siding; the porch is worn and weathered. No light glows from the windows and no grass grows on the lawn. Dirt and mud cover your feet.
Where are your shoes?
Hairs begin to rise all over your sweat covered body and a chilling presence strikes fear in your soul.
Almost home now, just a few last steps. You try to lift your right leg, but it’s stuck to the ground. Frozen in fear, frozen in place, you can’t move from this scene. Held back by pain, regret, pity, you will never move on. Screams are closing in on you and the shadow of a man appears near the street light behind you. Time speeds up but you still can’t free yourself from this place. He’s closing in on you now, heavy breathing, he is hot on your trail. The smell of fear in your blood is what drew him to this place, and he’s longing to feed.
Finally, you are freed from the freeze. Four steps up the stairs, the porch creaks with each step. Reach for the door, but it’s locked and you’re out. Out of time it would seem, he must be right behind you. Glance over your shoulder as you fumble with the keys. Like a statue in the yard he’s staring at you, mask in one hand, a blade in the other, he is breathing heavier now. You can tell by his stance, he is ready to strike. Fingers move faster now, as you shuffle through your keys like a deck of cards. The moon slides from behind the clouds and sheds light on your situation. Suddenly stricken, with a sense of despair you seem shit out of luck. This isn’t your house. As you turn to see fate, he stabs you straight in the arm.
Sweating and shaken from a nightmarish land.
In a sea of blankets, you pull your arm from beneath your body.
It’s throbbing and numb.