My nightmare… which was terrifying!
This short story is based on my nightmare that I dreamed on Monday the 25th of January 2016.
I decided to turn it into a short story because it seemed so real. It actually jolted me out of my sleep and even after waking up I was left reeling, thinking it was real.
Let me introduce to you, my short story nightmare. Dun dun duuuunnnnnn!
I turn into the private close and pull up in the lay-by outside my parent’s home.
Switching off the engine and shuffling in my seat, I look over at the house. Oddly, the front door is open. I look down the side of the house at the wheelie bins, expecting to see Dad putting out the rubbish. He’s not there.
I check the living room window, expecting to see a single shutter flexing as Mum peeks through. But she wasn’t there, the shutters were undisturbed.
Unplugging my seat belt and opening the car door, I unwillingly stepping out into the dingy cold weather. I look at the window again, Mum is still not there. Strange, says my inside voice.
Movement at the top of my periphery vision catches my attention – the upstairs window, one blind shutter out of place, forming a gap. Mum’s upstairs, weird. The blinds begin to slowly rise as Mum pulls the cord.
Turning back to the car, I press lock on the key and await the familiar clunk of the car doors locking before turning back for the house.
Walking again, I look up at the window, expecting to see Mum waving at me with a big smile on her face. Instead, it’s a face I do not recognise. The stranger’s face sends a shiver down my spine and stops me walking.
I freeze. I don’t know what to do. All I can feel is fear.
It’s someone wearing a mask – the moon crescent shaped grin is permanent, with a bloody redness to it. The stranger teases their arm up and slowly waves at me.
I regain control of my body and charge through the open door. Through the entrance hall, into the sitting room, straight onto the stairs. I jump over the first step, and run, skipping a step a time.
“Mum? Dad?” I shout.
Someone’s looming on the landing. I see him, staring at me, still smiling uncontrollably from the top of the stairs.
Reaching out to him I push him against the wall. He doesn’t flinch, he smiles. Chuckling under his breath. I tear his mask off his face. He looks grey, lacking a healthy skin colour.
“Where are my parents?” I hear the fear in the shaky intonation of my voice.
He continues staring, holding a wide smile.
“They’re not here, anymore,” he says.
I push him aside and run into my parent’s bedroom. I see the bed, but I turn away just as quickly.
I can’t look again. But I have to.
I turn back to the bed, I see two mounds under the duvet. Smudges of red decorate the room, as if I was in an artist’s studio.
Copyright © 2016 T. J. Blake
All rights reserved.
After that I woke up – can you blame me?