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I’ve had recurring nightmares for years. I found out why.
I’ve been having recurring nightmares, ever since I was a kid. The same ones in a vicious loop. One was your typical stuck at sea with no landmarks in sight, paddling a small raft through a storm, right up until I fall into the ocean, if you’ve ever been in the deep ocean, you know what that looks like, this starts as that. The moment you’re under there is nothing but blue, when I look around I can see the rays of light refracting through the water, small streaks of the Sun trying their hardest to press through the ocean’s oppressive blue. It’s when I look down that my heart drops. The light focuses into a small cone rimmed with blue, and underneath, it’s pitch black, however in my nightmare, I can always make out what looks like a face. Not a human’s, no, it’s as if the entire ocean has a face swirling under it that’s watching me with gleeful hatred, laughing silently, the force of its chuckles sending the waves frothing above me in a frenzy, and when I come back up? No raft, no land. Just me and what I can only call Poseidon’s ugly mug jeering at me as I cough and sputter. I’ll never go out on open waters.
The second is much more abstract. I wake up at home, my childhood home to be specific, even as I get older, it’s like it’s locked to that specific place. I get out of bed, I look through the house, and no-one is there. As a child this would lead to the well of tears bursting from my eyes as I ran frantically around looking for them. Nowadays when I get this one I just face the inevitable, I sit on the old couch in the living room and wait. It knocks at the same time every night, and when I open the door and step out onto the driveway, everything falls away, leaving me in darkness, and then the lights come on, one after another as I walk forward, an ephemeral blue path replacing the familiar concrete of the driveway, it winds up and away to the left, this part is never that bad, but as I walk further and further lights start to snap on off the path, and that’s where the horror lies, in the harsh white if those lights are all my loved ones and friends, eyes rolled back, tongues lolling out of their mouths. Just their heads, placed upon pikes, like I’m walking through a trophy hunter’s collection and all his hunts have been preparing to take me on, but there is no hunter, there’s not even any noise, just one after another until the end of the path, and there’s no turning back, when the lights go off the path disappears, one time I tried to run backward, and the moment I step off the blue, I fall. In a sickening sense of vertigo, I watch as the world flies upward, like clipping though a floor in a video game and watching as the map gets further and further out of reach, I usually wake up when all I can see is a pinprick of color.
Before I go to this last one though, I think you should know, there’s no getting off the ride once it’s started, I’ve tried it all. Wiggling toes, screaming, telling myself it’s a dream, closing my eyes, blinking as fast as my eyes will allow. It’s useless, the rollercoaster doesn’t stop once you’re over the hill.
This last one though, has been evolving. It starts with a normality to it that lulls me into thinking its a normal dream, watching tv, or talking to a family member in the living room, but the doorbell changes it all, the family member disappears without a trace, the TV snaps to static, and forces you to check the door. There used to be nothing there. Not a person, not a thing, or even a monster. But as I stand and look out into the dark street, an indescribable fear bubbles in my gut, it freezes my limbs, and numbs the white hot anger that boils as I open the door, ready to scream at whatever is there. But there’s nothing. And then you hear the footsteps. They aren’t loud, or wet, just extremely fast. Whatever is making those noises has always given me a primal instinct to run and hide. To get the hell away from whatever was coming toward me, I used to hide in the hall closet, holding my breath and hoping it would just go away, but it never did. No, instead I would hear the glass screen door shatter as the footsteps got to it and quickly thundered through house like a blitzkrieg, and then the closet door would fly open, and I’d scream in terror as nothing came in close to me.
I can’t see it, but I hear it, smell it, feel it. The deep rumblings of some unnatural growl, the smell of rot and death coming from the direction of the noise, and the feeling you get when you open the oven to check your dinner and get toasted by the rush of warm air. I used to wake up then, hell I used to not see it. I wish it was still like that. I had the dream over and over, over the span of my quarter century life I’ve had this experience at least 1000 times. But the more it happened, the more I saw. At first just its yellow eyes, the eyes of a hungry gray wolf looking at its next meal. Then, it’s head, canine yes, but twisted, a child’s imitation of a wolf, horribly elongated snout, way too large. If you’re thinking twilight wolves, you’re thinking too small. This things jaws could cover the height of the door frame with it hung open, and it’s teeth, if you could even call them that. Its jawbones were deeply serrated, ending on either side in large fangs, its mouth a moonless night. When it pounced, the sheer fear would drive me bolt upright in bed, cold sweat soaking the sheets.
Then, I’d see it outside. It stood like a scared cat at the end of the driveway, looming over the cars on legs the size of tree-trunks. Then it would hunch low and pounce at the door. I say all this because lately, I’ve just been having this last one, no more ocean mocking me as I drown, no more heads of my loved ones on a floaty path, just this monstrous beast, breaking into my home and devouring me whole. After I’d wake up, I’d laugh to myself, there’s no way that could ever be. But trying to go back to sleep, the bravado would wear down to the what ifs, those what ifs intensified the following mornings. Things would be off, like my nightstand, normally all my stuff is just kinda piled there so I can grab it all the next day, but it was all on the floor. I was just chalking it up to me struggling in the real world as my mind was in Hell on repeat. This thing has been slowly consuming my dreamscape.
Every dream I have, it’s been there. A nice dream walking through a museum? It’s in a painting, eyes glowing through the chunky strokes of paint. A quiet walk through the sunlit woods? Its legs are walking alongside me in the distance. It’s getting closer every-time. Even in the most mundane dreams of conversing with people, their mouths start to morph, growing sickeningly long and that odious, thunderous growl replaces their speech. Last night, I had it again, waking up in a start, my chest was pounding faster than it should be, my head feeling light and my body weak. Was this thing killing me with fear? I pondered this as I tossed and turned. As I did, I noticed my chest ached, when I pulled up my shirt, there was a massive bruise across it. I haven’t been able to sleep much since. When I do fall asleep, it’s there, and when I wake up, the bruising is worse. I went to the doctor’s office, but they said there’s nothing internally wrong, that it’s apparently just bruising from pressure on my chest.
When I got home. I started to notice more weird things. I don’t own any pets, but there’s claw marks on my door. And the window of my room was cracked open. I freaked out a little bit. I called up my grandmother, wise as she is, at least in old wives’ tales and myths. “Hey Omi! Do you have time to talk?” I asked as lighthearted as I could manage. I knew she did, but I always felt the compulsion to ask her, just in case she had gotten busy with housework, or was watching her soaps, she loves those damned things. “Of course sweetie! I just finished a nice apple pie if you wanna come by and visit!” She said cheerfully. I agreed immediately. I told her I’d be there in about 15 minutes and hung up the phone. I haven’t seen her in a couple months, and with everything going on I could really use some human interaction aside from the workplace chatter. When I arrived she was sitting in her rocking chair on the front porch of her farmhouse. My grandpa wasn’t the kindest man, but damn did he know how to take care of a home. the house still looked the same after 25 years, just a new-ish coat of paint. It used to be white, but with it aging, Opa just slapped some gray on there to cover the stains. She waved as I walked up the drive and stood from her rocker to meet me. “Daniel! How have you been? It feels like forever since I last set eyes on you!” She asked, her soft eyes looking me up and down proudly, but when she saw the dark rings lining the bottom of my eyes, her face sagged a bit, “Have you been having trouble sleeping dear?”
“Just a little Omi, that’s actually what I came to talk about, but how have y’all been? It’s been a few months since I was here, and I’m sorry about that. Work has just been exhausting lately.” I said trying to sound happy as I opened the front door and waited for her to walk inside. “Oh you know us, just putt-putting around, your grandfather is off at the hardware store, I swear he loves that place more than me sometimes!” She laughed as she made her way to the kitchen, i shut the door behind us and followed her to the smell of apple pie. We talked and caught up with each other as we ate. Finally, after a few pieces of pie to bolster my courage, I told her what had been happening, and asked her if the dreams, and things around the house meant anything to her.
She let her eyes drift down to her cup of coffee and thought for a moment, brow furrowed like there was something on the tip of her tongue. “I’m not sure sweetheart, I’m not exactly a doctor on sleep or anything unfortunately. But, I do need to ask, you don’t have any marks on you, do you?” She frowned. I stood up and lifted my shirt to reveal the bruising on my chest, and her eyes went wide. She started praying in German to herself and left the room, telling me to stay there. When she came back she held a dusty old tome in her wrinkled hands. Slapping it down on the table sending dust flying off the cover, she skimmed through the pages and with a quick aha, she turned the book around for me to see, tapping a page with her finger. I slid the book closer to me and read through the page. It was an entry talking about Mares, not the horse, but apparently a malicious being that sits on you while you sleep causing nightmares, using the fear the nightmares generate to feed.
As I read she spoke, “Daniel honey, you need to follow what that book tells you to do, and get whatever is in your home out, and if you can’t, then you come here and stay with us for a while and I’ll send your Opa over there to take care of it!” She smiled as she finished, and I couldn’t tell if the joy was from helping me, or at the idea that she got to boss Opa around a little more. “Are you sure this is what’s going on?” I asked as I looked through the page, paintings of small demons sitting upon people’s chest. I was silently praying that I just couldn’t remember some impact that had bruised my chest. “Oh I’m pretty sure, nightmares is one thing, but that bruise, and the scratches at your door, that sounds like a mare in my book” she nodded back toward the page. My chest ached as I imagined some tiny demon sitting in my chest in the night, watching me struggle in my dreams while it fed off me. I shifted uncomfortably in my chair. At the bottom of the page was a bunch of different methods for keeping the thing at bay. Leaving upside down slippers at your beside, boiling water in a new jar and plugging it with a new cork, or finding a hole that has yet to be patched in your home to keep it from getting in. At the bottom was a german prayer, translating it to English (thanks Google, I’m not gonna explain how that works, by the way.) it simply read-
Here I am lying down to sleep; No night-mare shall plague me until they have swum through all the waters that flow upon the earth, and counted all stars that appear in the firmament. Thus help me God Father, Son, and Holy Ghost. Amen!
I thanked my grandmother profusely, the sun had gone down, and feeling like I had a way out, I gave her a big hug, told her to say hi to Opa for me, and headed home. On my way I stopped at the store, grabbing a pair of slippers, a jar, and a cork. Returning home I found more weird things, bits of blackened nails now stuck in the gouges at my bedroom door, no longer just scratches, and reeking throughout the house was this pervading smell of sulphur and dead flowers. I went to work, i boiled a pot of water and poured it into the glass jar, corking it with the corks I had bought, and placed it on my nightstand. I placed the slippers upside down at the foot of my bed, and getting into, read that prayer from my notes app, and went to sleep. Nothing. Just inky blackness for what seemed like two seconds, but when I awoke, it was dark in my room, the clock read 3 AM. I sat up, thanking the lord for my salvation, thats when I saw it. Standing the same way it stood in my dreams, the size of a great dane, was the thing from my dreams. I shivered as I watched it circling my bed, gouging the floor with every step and growling, staring through me with those fiery ember eyes. I asked it what it wants from me, and surprisingly, in a deep and feminine tone, all it said was, “you..” sitting down and opening its mouth, that yawning cavern.
As it did something started to shift in it, its legs and arms crunching and drawing up into its animal head, the only thing I could think was that I’m going to die here. A mass started to rise from its throat, seemingly materializing from the pool of darkness inside. Long back hair swung from the wolf’s mouth, a head following it. A shockingly beautiful head of a young woman, her eyes shining with the moonlight coming through the window. The irises a golden yellow. She smiled coyly as her shoulders started to emerge from the beast. As more of her body emerged, the more of the animal sagged into a lifeless skin with a squelch, the bones cracking and groaning, and by the time the transformation was done, a petite woman stood over the foot of my bed wrapped in the wolf’s skin like a tunic, the mouth of which was clamped shut over her shoulder, a disgusting adornment. I was fozen in fear and confusion. What the actual fuck is going on. That tome said that women could become these things, but I assumed that was akin to medieval people saying women were witches, sitting here now, I couldn’t believe my eyes. I started to reach for the jar, but she flicked her eyes from mine to the jar, and then back to me, her smile growing more mischievous, she spoke something in German, and I lost control of my limbs, the weight of my head becoming unbearable as I fell to the mattress in a slump, my vision starting to waver.
The last thing I remember before passing out was her hand grabbing my ankle. I woke up in darkness akin to the night that surrounded that blue pathway of pikes. The sounds of water slowly dripping echoing off in the distance, reminds me of the laughing maw of the ocean depths. My legs still won’t move, and I feel extremely groggy. I tried counting the seconds to no avail, i lost count after about 10 minutes. Feeling in my pockets I found my phone. I’m typing this now because I don’t know if I’ll make it out of here. I’d call 911, but I couldn’t even tell them where I am, I’ve been crawling around, trying to get my bearings, but there’s no sign of a passageway, just the slick walls of stone that surround me. If this makes it out into the world, please help me, I can hear growling off in the darkness, and if that nightmare held any truth, I don’t think I can hide from this thing much longer.
#entertainment
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I’ve been having recurring nightmares, ever since I was a kid. The same ones in a vicious loop. One was your typical stuck at sea with no landmarks in sight, paddling a small raft through a storm, right up until I fall into the ocean, if you’ve ever been in the deep ocean, you know what that looks like, this starts as that. The moment you’re under there is nothing but blue, when I look around I can see the rays of light refracting through the water, small streaks of the Sun trying their hardest to press through the ocean’s oppressive blue. It’s when I look down that my heart drops. The light focuses into a small cone rimmed with blue, and underneath, it’s pitch black, however in my nightmare, I can always make out what looks like a face. Not a human’s, no, it’s as if the entire ocean has a face swirling under it that’s watching me with gleeful hatred, laughing silently, the force of its chuckles sending the waves frothing above me in a frenzy, and when I come back up? No raft, no land. Just me and what I can only call Poseidon’s ugly mug jeering at me as I cough and sputter. I’ll never go out on open waters.
The second is much more abstract. I wake up at home, my childhood home to be specific, even as I get older, it’s like it’s locked to that specific place. I get out of bed, I look through the house, and no-one is there. As a child this would lead to the well of tears bursting from my eyes as I ran frantically around looking for them. Nowadays when I get this one I just face the inevitable, I sit on the old couch in the living room and wait. It knocks at the same time every night, and when I open the door and step out onto the driveway, everything falls away, leaving me in darkness, and then the lights come on, one after another as I walk forward, an ephemeral blue path replacing the familiar concrete of the driveway, it winds up and away to the left, this part is never that bad, but as I walk further and further lights start to snap on off the path, and that’s where the horror lies, in the harsh white if those lights are all my loved ones and friends, eyes rolled back, tongues lolling out of their mouths. Just their heads, placed upon pikes, like I’m walking through a trophy hunter’s collection and all his hunts have been preparing to take me on, but there is no hunter, there’s not even any noise, just one after another until the end of the path, and there’s no turning back, when the lights go off the path disappears, one time I tried to run backward, and the moment I step off the blue, I fall. In a sickening sense of vertigo, I watch as the world flies upward, like clipping though a floor in a video game and watching as the map gets further and further out of reach, I usually wake up when all I can see is a pinprick of color.
Before I go to this last one though, I think you should know, there’s no getting off the ride once it’s started, I’ve tried it all. Wiggling toes, screaming, telling myself it’s a dream, closing my eyes, blinking as fast as my eyes will allow. It’s useless, the rollercoaster doesn’t stop once you’re over the hill.
This last one though, has been evolving. It starts with a normality to it that lulls me into thinking its a normal dream, watching tv, or talking to a family member in the living room, but the doorbell changes it all, the family member disappears without a trace, the TV snaps to static, and forces you to check the door. There used to be nothing there. Not a person, not a thing, or even a monster. But as I stand and look out into the dark street, an indescribable fear bubbles in my gut, it freezes my limbs, and numbs the white hot anger that boils as I open the door, ready to scream at whatever is there. But there’s nothing. And then you hear the footsteps. They aren’t loud, or wet, just extremely fast. Whatever is making those noises has always given me a primal instinct to run and hide. To get the hell away from whatever was coming toward me, I used to hide in the hall closet, holding my breath and hoping it would just go away, but it never did. No, instead I would hear the glass screen door shatter as the footsteps got to it and quickly thundered through house like a blitzkrieg, and then the closet door would fly open, and I’d scream in terror as nothing came in close to me.
I can’t see it, but I hear it, smell it, feel it. The deep rumblings of some unnatural growl, the smell of rot and death coming from the direction of the noise, and the feeling you get when you open the oven to check your dinner and get toasted by the rush of warm air. I used to wake up then, hell I used to not see it. I wish it was still like that. I had the dream over and over, over the span of my quarter century life I’ve had this experience at least 1000 times. But the more it happened, the more I saw. At first just its yellow eyes, the eyes of a hungry gray wolf looking at its next meal. Then, it’s head, canine yes, but twisted, a child’s imitation of a wolf, horribly elongated snout, way too large. If you’re thinking twilight wolves, you’re thinking too small. This things jaws could cover the height of the door frame with it hung open, and it’s teeth, if you could even call them that. Its jawbones were deeply serrated, ending on either side in large fangs, its mouth a moonless night. When it pounced, the sheer fear would drive me bolt upright in bed, cold sweat soaking the sheets.
Then, I’d see it outside. It stood like a scared cat at the end of the driveway, looming over the cars on legs the size of tree-trunks. Then it would hunch low and pounce at the door. I say all this because lately, I’ve just been having this last one, no more ocean mocking me as I drown, no more heads of my loved ones on a floaty path, just this monstrous beast, breaking into my home and devouring me whole. After I’d wake up, I’d laugh to myself, there’s no way that could ever be. But trying to go back to sleep, the bravado would wear down to the what ifs, those what ifs intensified the following mornings. Things would be off, like my nightstand, normally all my stuff is just kinda piled there so I can grab it all the next day, but it was all on the floor. I was just chalking it up to me struggling in the real world as my mind was in Hell on repeat. This thing has been slowly consuming my dreamscape.
Every dream I have, it’s been there. A nice dream walking through a museum? It’s in a painting, eyes glowing through the chunky strokes of paint. A quiet walk through the sunlit woods? Its legs are walking alongside me in the distance. It’s getting closer every-time. Even in the most mundane dreams of conversing with people, their mouths start to morph, growing sickeningly long and that odious, thunderous growl replaces their speech. Last night, I had it again, waking up in a start, my chest was pounding faster than it should be, my head feeling light and my body weak. Was this thing killing me with fear? I pondered this as I tossed and turned. As I did, I noticed my chest ached, when I pulled up my shirt, there was a massive bruise across it. I haven’t been able to sleep much since. When I do fall asleep, it’s there, and when I wake up, the bruising is worse. I went to the doctor’s office, but they said there’s nothing internally wrong, that it’s apparently just bruising from pressure on my chest.
When I got home. I started to notice more weird things. I don’t own any pets, but there’s claw marks on my door. And the window of my room was cracked open. I freaked out a little bit. I called up my grandmother, wise as she is, at least in old wives’ tales and myths. “Hey Omi! Do you have time to talk?” I asked as lighthearted as I could manage. I knew she did, but I always felt the compulsion to ask her, just in case she had gotten busy with housework, or was watching her soaps, she loves those damned things. “Of course sweetie! I just finished a nice apple pie if you wanna come by and visit!” She said cheerfully. I agreed immediately. I told her I’d be there in about 15 minutes and hung up the phone. I haven’t seen her in a couple months, and with everything going on I could really use some human interaction aside from the workplace chatter. When I arrived she was sitting in her rocking chair on the front porch of her farmhouse. My grandpa wasn’t the kindest man, but damn did he know how to take care of a home. the house still looked the same after 25 years, just a new-ish coat of paint. It used to be white, but with it aging, Opa just slapped some gray on there to cover the stains. She waved as I walked up the drive and stood from her rocker to meet me. “Daniel! How have you been? It feels like forever since I last set eyes on you!” She asked, her soft eyes looking me up and down proudly, but when she saw the dark rings lining the bottom of my eyes, her face sagged a bit, “Have you been having trouble sleeping dear?”
“Just a little Omi, that’s actually what I came to talk about, but how have y’all been? It’s been a few months since I was here, and I’m sorry about that. Work has just been exhausting lately.” I said trying to sound happy as I opened the front door and waited for her to walk inside. “Oh you know us, just putt-putting around, your grandfather is off at the hardware store, I swear he loves that place more than me sometimes!” She laughed as she made her way to the kitchen, i shut the door behind us and followed her to the smell of apple pie. We talked and caught up with each other as we ate. Finally, after a few pieces of pie to bolster my courage, I told her what had been happening, and asked her if the dreams, and things around the house meant anything to her.
She let her eyes drift down to her cup of coffee and thought for a moment, brow furrowed like there was something on the tip of her tongue. “I’m not sure sweetheart, I’m not exactly a doctor on sleep or anything unfortunately. But, I do need to ask, you don’t have any marks on you, do you?” She frowned. I stood up and lifted my shirt to reveal the bruising on my chest, and her eyes went wide. She started praying in German to herself and left the room, telling me to stay there. When she came back she held a dusty old tome in her wrinkled hands. Slapping it down on the table sending dust flying off the cover, she skimmed through the pages and with a quick aha, she turned the book around for me to see, tapping a page with her finger. I slid the book closer to me and read through the page. It was an entry talking about Mares, not the horse, but apparently a malicious being that sits on you while you sleep causing nightmares, using the fear the nightmares generate to feed.
As I read she spoke, “Daniel honey, you need to follow what that book tells you to do, and get whatever is in your home out, and if you can’t, then you come here and stay with us for a while and I’ll send your Opa over there to take care of it!” She smiled as she finished, and I couldn’t tell if the joy was from helping me, or at the idea that she got to boss Opa around a little more. “Are you sure this is what’s going on?” I asked as I looked through the page, paintings of small demons sitting upon people’s chest. I was silently praying that I just couldn’t remember some impact that had bruised my chest. “Oh I’m pretty sure, nightmares is one thing, but that bruise, and the scratches at your door, that sounds like a mare in my book” she nodded back toward the page. My chest ached as I imagined some tiny demon sitting in my chest in the night, watching me struggle in my dreams while it fed off me. I shifted uncomfortably in my chair. At the bottom of the page was a bunch of different methods for keeping the thing at bay. Leaving upside down slippers at your beside, boiling water in a new jar and plugging it with a new cork, or finding a hole that has yet to be patched in your home to keep it from getting in. At the bottom was a german prayer, translating it to English (thanks Google, I’m not gonna explain how that works, by the way.) it simply read-
Here I am lying down to sleep; No night-mare shall plague me until they have swum through all the waters that flow upon the earth, and counted all stars that appear in the firmament. Thus help me God Father, Son, and Holy Ghost. Amen!
I thanked my grandmother profusely, the sun had gone down, and feeling like I had a way out, I gave her a big hug, told her to say hi to Opa for me, and headed home. On my way I stopped at the store, grabbing a pair of slippers, a jar, and a cork. Returning home I found more weird things, bits of blackened nails now stuck in the gouges at my bedroom door, no longer just scratches, and reeking throughout the house was this pervading smell of sulphur and dead flowers. I went to work, i boiled a pot of water and poured it into the glass jar, corking it with the corks I had bought, and placed it on my nightstand. I placed the slippers upside down at the foot of my bed, and getting into, read that prayer from my notes app, and went to sleep. Nothing. Just inky blackness for what seemed like two seconds, but when I awoke, it was dark in my room, the clock read 3 AM. I sat up, thanking the lord for my salvation, thats when I saw it. Standing the same way it stood in my dreams, the size of a great dane, was the thing from my dreams. I shivered as I watched it circling my bed, gouging the floor with every step and growling, staring through me with those fiery ember eyes. I asked it what it wants from me, and surprisingly, in a deep and feminine tone, all it said was, “you..” sitting down and opening its mouth, that yawning cavern.
As it did something started to shift in it, its legs and arms crunching and drawing up into its animal head, the only thing I could think was that I’m going to die here. A mass started to rise from its throat, seemingly materializing from the pool of darkness inside. Long back hair swung from the wolf’s mouth, a head following it. A shockingly beautiful head of a young woman, her eyes shining with the moonlight coming through the window. The irises a golden yellow. She smiled coyly as her shoulders started to emerge from the beast. As more of her body emerged, the more of the animal sagged into a lifeless skin with a squelch, the bones cracking and groaning, and by the time the transformation was done, a petite woman stood over the foot of my bed wrapped in the wolf’s skin like a tunic, the mouth of which was clamped shut over her shoulder, a disgusting adornment. I was fozen in fear and confusion. What the actual fuck is going on. That tome said that women could become these things, but I assumed that was akin to medieval people saying women were witches, sitting here now, I couldn’t believe my eyes. I started to reach for the jar, but she flicked her eyes from mine to the jar, and then back to me, her smile growing more mischievous, she spoke something in German, and I lost control of my limbs, the weight of my head becoming unbearable as I fell to the mattress in a slump, my vision starting to waver.
The last thing I remember before passing out was her hand grabbing my ankle. I woke up in darkness akin to the night that surrounded that blue pathway of pikes. The sounds of water slowly dripping echoing off in the distance, reminds me of the laughing maw of the ocean depths. My legs still won’t move, and I feel extremely groggy. I tried counting the seconds to no avail, i lost count after about 10 minutes. Feeling in my pockets I found my phone. I’m typing this now because I don’t know if I’ll make it out of here. I’d call 911, but I couldn’t even tell them where I am, I’ve been crawling around, trying to get my bearings, but there’s no sign of a passageway, just the slick walls of stone that surround me. If this makes it out into the world, please help me, I can hear growling off in the darkness, and if that nightmare held any truth, I don’t think I can hide from this thing much longer.
#entertainment
source
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