Nightmare Fixation

Nightmare Fixation

Author’s note: This is written very differently to the rest of my stories, but is also very succinct. I gues I wrote it in note form at first to get all the ideas in there. Then when I reread it I couldn't bring myself to change it. Still, it needed editing, so I did so and rewrote it a number of times, but kept it in its basic orginal form.   Hate it or like, it is what it is.

Weird dream, oh well. Toilet.
That’s better.
Go to basin in bedroom, wash up, get some more water... and, what’s that on my right arm. A puncture mark from a needle on the inside of my elbow. I stand there. I close the curtains and turn on more lights. This is odd.
What was that dream about?
Something happened to my skin on my arm just before I woke. Was someone here?!?!
Oh, no! Turn on more lights. First, wait. Any noises in the house. 4-5 minutes, listening, getting more on edge. Oh, this is bad.
Courage, walk out of the room. Done. Lights, more lights. House is empty. Does not fill me with reassurance. Means something can move without being seen, or very quickly.
Look in the wardrobe.
Here goes. Mobile phone in hand. Recent calls. Who should I have ready to call. John. Good, John. Friend, John
Open the wardrobe, quickly, all doors. Nothing. I don’t feel better, but I guess it’s over.
Time to lay back down. I can’t. I can’t sleep after all that. I don’t know if I’m safe.
Back out of the room, turn on all lights again. Watch TV.
Whirring noise... what was that?
Mute TV. Nothing.
Wait, what was that just now?
Sounds like something is being turned.
Outside it’s still dark.
I’ll feel better when it’s light.
Whirring happens again.
No more noises. The TV, I un-mute.
Lights flicker. Now what. Damn this is scary.
But I can fight it, I will fight it whatever it is.
Lights flicker again.
Should I get the torch.
It’s 5.30am Sun will be up soon.
To hell with it, I know where the torch is, and I’ll hurt them if they try to turn the lights off. To hell with them. Bad word choice.
The lights go out, no warning, no flicker. Dim moon light breaks the darkness a little. Enough to see by as I run for the room with the torch. Whirring noise, shadow in the hallway. Keep going. Torch, at last. Turn it on.
Should I call someone. I have my phone in hand, ready.
Whirring noise.
What is that? Sounds like turning, and it vibrates as it turns, something metallic.
It’s coming from back down the end of the house.
Lights come back on. Must have been nothing.
Turn on more lights.
Hallway is well lit. Okay, I can go down and check it out, my phone and the torch... I’ll leave it on. Oh shit.
Nothing.
Back door. I guess I should have a look out there.
Unlock door.
Whirring, but still distant.
Door opens, I open it.
Anything there. Nothing.
Whirring noise.
Its coming from out there. Time to go outside. Maybe I should wait until light?
I have to see.
I have shoes and a T-shirt now.
Unlock security door.
Whirring is getting softer.
Outside, balcony.
Scanning, looking, not seeing.
But something reflects the torch up on the roof of the shed. What is that?
It’s moving, I can hear the whirring.
Sun’s almost up.
My arm starts bleeding.
The mark on my left arm bleeds. It doesn’t hurt. But, how is the blood pouring out so quickly?
Where is the blood going?
It’s not going on the ground.
So much blood.
It’s hurting now.
I feel dizzy.
The whirring continues.
The sun’s coming up... light is hitting the trees above.
The pain is making me want to... I fall to my knees. Crack.
Did the wood crack or did my knee cap shatter.
Trickles run down my left arm. So much blood, but so little on my arm.
It hurts.
What is that on the shed. I look up. It’s fading in the growing light.
Is that an image... on the side of it... no, some sort of markings.
It’s becoming transparent.
It’s falling. It topples, but then sinks through the shed, mustn’t be tangible. A noise in the shed, it must have hit something.
The whirring is slowing. But I can’t hold on.
The lights have gone off again.
My torch is dimming.
Are they ants on my arms, I wonder, I feel as if I’m going to fall.
Old feet appear next to me on the ground. Are they mine. Can’t be, I’m on my knees.
The old man’s face appears in front of mine, he smiles at me. But it is a smile that does not fill me with joy.
He speaks, or at least he opens his mouth and ants crawl out. And a whispering.
“Not ants,” he says, “not ants.”
Don’t let them on me, I think.
My lips won’t move and my swaying body trembles. I can’t stay up. I’m falling.
He puts his arms on my arms and lifts me up off the ground.
“Don’t worry, I wont take advantage of you.” He spits ants on me as he talks. I can feel them crawling. I can’t get away.
His laughing chills me.
The blood still flows, the whirring has stopped, the sun is rising, the torch is dead. And I might be soon too, but the ants are on me. And the old man laughs. He shakes me and then drops me.
I will sleep here. I can’t stand to do anything else.

Comments

Mat, I couldn't stop reading. It reminded me of Stephen King. I could see and hear everything and the man spitting ants at the end was a complete surprise. But very apt given the way it had been reading up until his appearance. I love it as it is but I'd be interested to see how it reads with a bit more padding,- just out of interest. Great imaginative story!

I've realised over time, Suraya, that you are correct at least 99% of the time. So yes, My story could be morphed into a story with clarity (and I would like to do so). I still also wish to keep my current story, regardless that currently each sentence creates an obstacle towards its clarity.

Every lesson I've learned under your tutelage has been very well taken. And I still continue to learn and realise your advice as golden :)

Hi Mat, Thanks. You are very kind. I was thinking about your story this morning (a very good sign by the way) and I don't see why you can't have two versions...the one you have now (which I like) and another. Be interesting to compare them.