Passing on the Nightmare


 

Close your eyes.

Think of the worst nightmare you could ever have - dream deep into your most hidden fears.  Dream of molten silver, claws, fangs, and venom dripping, eyes crying tears of acid rain.  Think of the most violently perverse scene you could imagine; now look deeper, to the ones you won't let yourself think about.  Add darkness, sylabant shadows that move, think, breathe.  Listen closer to the voices whispering in your ears, of tortures yet to come.  Take that helpless feeling you get when you can't move and the weakness you feel when you've been violently ill, and multiply it by the fact that you know you're perfectly healthy.  Take the monster from the hidden depths of you mind.  Not the one that's dangerous and exciting, but that one, the voice in the darkness that makes you want to run.  That raises the hairs on your entire body and fills you with nothing but a violent irrational fear.  Let your minds eye watch as its hands caress you, as the screams that are begging for release war with vomit to be the first to leave.  As you choke on your own cries for mercy, released unheard into the darkness, as they echo back to you.  Listen to the joyous screeches, screams, moans and cries of your tormenters as you feel skin pulled away in layers, and their laughter as you nearly snap.  Brought to the brink, only to

be pulled back so everything can start again.

And in the morning light, as you struggle to collect what's left of your battered, broken shell.  As you attempt to forget the horrors you, somehow, managed to survive, you have one last memory to live with.  No matter how you deny itů

You liked it.

Now wake up, it was only a dream.

 

 



© 2002 by Miranda Shipley


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