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The Nightmare

Nightmare or Warning?

By Pamela_Ann95Published 2 months ago 4 min read

Every night, I cry myself to sleep, knowing I will die, and every morning, I wake up to the sounds of my screams from the same nightmare I dream every night, and this is how it goes…

I wake in a dark room with one door I can not find, and when I do, the door opens with a loud, high-pitched squeak that can be heard for miles through eerily quiet halls. I step out of the pitch darkness into a hallway that's bathed in a blood-red light, and it's not because of all the massacred bodies beneath my feet. Carefully stepping around body parts and avoiding the puddles of blood, the stench of iron heavily lingers in the air, and it turns my stomach. The carpet below is soaked and squishes beneath my timid feet as I descend the never-ending hallway. The air grows cold around me, making my breath puff around me. As I continue, the bodies gradually disappear, the carpet becoming less saturated. As I move along, I leave the scent of blood behind me.

Suddenly, a door appears before me; the wood was a deep dark maroon with an intricate black metal design. There is only one way for me to go: through the door. I hesitate to turn the handle, knowing what awaits me on the other side. My body starts to shake, sweat beads down my neck as my breathing becomes more shallow and quicker. Tears blur my vision as I wrap my hand around the clunky handle with shaky hands and turn the doorknob. An audible click can be heard. I steel myself before finally pushing the door open with all my weight. A wall of hot air greets me, instantly warming my chilled body. Stepping through the door, jumping as the door slams shut right after.

I find myself in the room I fear most, the room with the mirrors. Panic courses through me as the room gets smaller and the mirrors get closer. I stare at my panicked features in the many mirrors around me. I reach out to one, only to have it shatter before me. One by one, they all shatter, leaving me in the dark once again with only broken glass scattered around my feet. I hug myself tightly, frantically searching for the one thing to get me out. Even though I fear what's to come next, I need to leave and get away from the reflections. Nearly giving myself whiplash, I find what I have been looking for: the last mirror that did not shatter. Instead of my reflection, nothing lies ahead. I took a deep breath before stepping through and right into the lion's den.

On the other side is a massive bedroom lighted by demonic-looking wall sconces filled with blue fire. The heat is suffocating and unbearable. Gingerly, making my way down the middle of the room, shuffling the red velvet rug beneath me, nearly tripping along the way. Up on a raised platform is a king-sized canopy bed veiled with a red translucent fabric obscuring the view from the outside. As I get closer, I notice a deep, dark liquid streaming from the bed down the steps that pool on the bottom. Then I notice the pungent smell of iron, instantly realizing that it is indeed blood that flows down from the bed and the motionless body on top of the pristine bed, along with the blood soaking into the crimson sheets a darker color. Moving the light fabric to the side, gasping at the sight, even though I know who this person is, I can't help but be overwhelmed with emotions every time I see the scene before me. There is a young girl who shares my face, lying in a white silk sleep dress; long dark hair cascades around her shoulders as her glazed eyes stare into the void.

I back up slowly as I stare at the scene. As I slip on the step, I tumble down, landing into the sticky blood at the bottom; I note that it's still warm as a shiver goes down my spine, and my whole body shakes. I quickly stand up and turn to make a run for it. But I didn't get far; I ran into a tall, muscular chest. Hesitantly, I look up to see a man I had never seen before. This has never happened before. Usually, I would be awake by now, crying into my pillow as the last scene fades from my mind. His rugged features look unhappy. He shakes his head. "You're supposed to be dead." Eyes wide, terror fills my body as the room's heat drains from the room. My body becomes like ice as I stare into the man's red eyes, and as he reaches for me, my body jolts, and I'm back in bed in my room. A scream trapped in my throat as tears roll down my cheeks as I clutch my blanket to my sweaty body for some sort of comfort. When I calmed down, all I could think about was the man in my nightmare. He has never appeared before, and it scares me to my core. What does this mean for me? Will I ever meet him in real life, and if I do, what does that mean for me?

MysterythrillerShort StoryFantasy

About the Creator


I mostly write fiction and don't have a preferred genre. I like to experiment and try new things with my writing.

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