They Come While she Sleeps — Part one
My nightmares brought to life for your pleasure
The air in her room ambled — falling heavy, like a laden blanket. Her eyelids shivering like a flame.
She was asleep…
…Meghan noticed her once white walls had become a pale gray, strewn with silver webbing and whittled paint. To the left of her, were black bags tied together with what looked like human hair — to the right was a door.
The stench of rot filled the air. Her nostrils flared as she compressed her lips to keep from puking. She moved toward the bags with one arm sprawled out — shaking with panic. It was hair, and it was wet.
She yanked her hand back and held it close to her face to see what it was she had touched. A gleam of moonlight headlined through a broken window and doused her hand. It was red and clammy. She wiped it off while gulping hard; it was blood.
It’s just a dream, Meghan. Wake up… please, wake up.
The room was so quiet that she heard each one of her breaths load and expel from her lungs. The type of stillness where the sound of her flesh coiling in on itself was deafening.
It was the door, the only way out. However, this door wasn’t an ordinary entrance. She had seen this one before. It was her bedroom door as a child. She glared at the knob while approaching. Her hand met with the cold metal sending shivers down to her toes.
Just as the door opened, she heard a deep growl from behind her; she turned to see one bag ripped open. Rising from the plastic was a tall, skinny entity. It hovered in the corner, feet inches off the floor, and head bent against the awning. Its flesh was dangling from the bone. The creature grinned, showing many sets of tiny needle-sized teeth. Then, it pulled off chunks of its face with its fingers while trudging its decomposing skull across the ceiling.
Just as Meghan turned to run out, the creature opened its mouth, wide enough to where its jaw sloped on the floor in front of her. Inside of his chops, we’re portions of people chewed and mangled. She hastily backed up out of the room, and the door slammed behind her.
Her hands were clenched tight enough to where she could feel her palms splitting, and her eyes were as wide as her sockets would allow.
Wake up, wake up, WAKE UP!
She was afraid to turn around. Her mouth hung loose, and her muscles protested any movement. Sounds echoed past her like wisps of memories. Not pleasant ones.
Her mother’s screams clawed at her spine and the sound of her brother crying was at her feet. Slowly, she turned just enough to detect where she was. It was her childhood living room. The walls were dark and dirty, and the floors were damp. In the corner, she saw the silhouette of her mother chattering to herself while tugging at her hair. Her brother was crouching on the floor in front of her. He was naked and covered in welts.
She was home…