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She is so beautiful. Oh how I can't wait to see her again... I dream of her every night. Those blue mesmerizing eyes. The long brown hair that goes past her sturdy, but oh so delicate shoulders. I can't help thinking about her. Imagining her along side me gives me oh so much inspiration. I remember the first time I met her at school. This year actually.

First semester, first quarter. It was in chemistry class. Funny story, actually. We sat next to each other. She was the class ace, and I was the slacker. I would try to act all cool like around her, and she thought I was stupid, and all that. Well I eventually dropped out of that class for failing the next semester, but she was switching classes anyways. At that time my heart went out for her. The uncontrollable love has taken over me once again.

Well She had two classes with me in the second semester: P.E., and Art class. I would mess around in class, and try to make her laugh. She eventually started to hate me for this. I embarrassed myself in her front of her, but I never got red faced around her like I usually would.

Time went by, and I eventually gave up on her, because I heard she was attracted to someone else.... I still loved her though, but I tried to avoid seeing her. The pain would always come back. I kept dreaming about her, but of not the usual pretty parties with flowers type deal. It would be me... In a room, an old abandon warehouse doing violent things to her new boyfriend while she was sleeping in a bed, but crying in her sleep. I was torturing him while he was tied to a pole.

Slow bloody torture. After he eventually died I took a bunch of gasoline bottles and poured it all over him and the building. Then I left the building and took off my ski mask. I had a cruel twisted smile on my face.

When I awoken I was surprisingly calm about the dream. I couldn't honestly say it was a nightmare. I continued to go with my daily routine, and went to school. When I got to my class with her I could hear her talking with her friends about the boyfriend not coming to school today, and she didn't get a phone call on her celly. I didn't really care about it and went on.

The next day she wasn't at school. I asked one of her friends where she was. The friend told me she stayed home, because her boyfriend was missing and had to get questioned by the police. I went home that day and turned on the news. They were talking about a fire that happened yesterday in an old abandoned warehouse far from the city. At that time I remembered my dream. It was odd, but had to be a coincidence.

The next day she was back in school. She seemed sad and didn't talk to anyone. I finally went up to her and asked her what was wrong. She began to cry, and told me about a dream she had of her boyfriend getting tortured and set on fire. I told her to relax and hugged her. She told me thank you for being such a nice friend, and wrapped her arms around me. When looking over her shoulder I couldn't help but wear that sinister smile across my face again.

I could never sleep well in hotels. I guess that’s somewhat of an understatement; I could never sleep well in general, but hotels were the worst.

Just the thought that the previous occupant of this bed is a complete stranger was repulsive in my mind, but that’s beside the point.

What I’m getting at is how this lack of sleep in hotels changed my life. Christmas, we were spending Christmas in a shitty hotel and not with family, great.

Don’t get me wrong, it’s not like I didn’t enjoy the all you can eat buffet of soggy hash browns and grits for Christmas Eve dinner.

Of course the first snow of the season had to cancel our flight down to Virginia. It was Christmas Eve and I was trying to sleep in this bleach saturated room; my minds wandering, wondering what happened in here to cause such an excessive amount of bleach needed.

The room was nothing out of the ordinary: two beds, one for me and my dad and another for my sister and mom, a bathroom, and a stained microwave that looked in need of a good dusting. Somehow I escaped the room (and stench of bleach) into a dreamless sleep. Waking up, I could tell it was early morning, my dad was next to me snoring and he usually wakes up before 4 am.

That’s when it hit me, it’s Christmas, and I was about to let this bad fortune ruin my favorite holiday.

Looking across the bed at the clock to check the time is when I noticed it: The silhouette of a man about 6’3 across the room staring at my mom sleep. Still half asleep and caught up in the moment I couldn’t help thinking of Santa Claus.

I realized how stupid the thought was and horror soon filled my head, I choked back a shriek. I knew I couldn’t let him see me awake so I quietly put my head back down pretending to sleep. My mind was racing, someone was in my room and I couldn’t do anything; I was scrawny sixteen year old, this man looked built like an ox.

I wondered if I could wake my dad up in time but I knew that wouldn’t work, he slept like a rock; a bucket of water couldn’t get him up fast enough. I was practically in tears; I’d never felt so helpless. For a second time I choked back a scream. He was standing next to me, I could feel and hear his repulsive breath on my face; it smelled like he’d been eating rotten meat for a week now with no thought to brush his teeth. If he didn’t know I was awake surely he did now, seeing my face was contorted in fear.

The breathing stopped and I couldn’t help the sigh of relief; I would've kicked myself but there was no need, I heard the room door open and close. I launched out of bed. Nothing in the room was in disarray and my family was still asleep. That couldn’t have been a dream, I couldn’t have imagined it. Feeling awake as ever a horrible idea popped into my head and before I could push it away I was pulling the door open.

Glancing back to the door in order to memorize the room number I saw the giant spray-painted black ‘X’ on the door. Had I seen this without the prior experience I probably would’ve thought it was just some stupid kids, I knew better, but not enough to know what it was for.

My heart skipped a beat, there he was, turning the corner at the end of the hall, ‘Why am I doing this?’ I tailed him down to the parking lot, he was nowhere in sight; one moment he’s walking out the lobby, the next he’s gone. Realizing how cold it is outside in paper-thin pajamas, I returned to the lobby. No one was around, strange; I could swear there’s usually a night concierge.

Adrenaline wearing off I realized how stupid and rash my actions had been, he could have killed me. I cursed myself back up the stairs. I knew something was wrong when I got to my floor. The door to my room was wide open, ‘I hadn’t left it that way, right?’

I walked inside and after a quick search of the room I determined it safe and my family was still asleep. I locked the door and got back into bed though I didn’t sleep for the rest of the night. I listened to my dad get up and eventually my mom followed but I still pretended to sleep.

A few hours passed and my parents got my sister and I up, we got into the car, and made our way back to the airport. Digging through my bag to grab my iPod led to the finding of something that hadn’t been in there the previous day.

A note that simply held the five words I still think about to this day, “I knew you were awake.” It’s now been two months since the hotel experience, I’m still scared for my life and it gets worse every day. That note I found wasn’t the only one; I still receive them.


We all sleep.

And dream. We all dream.

If we think we don't (even on certain nights), we are mistaken. Every human dreams. Each person enters the REM state almost five to six times during a night. Rapid Eye Movement. Our eyes start moving rapidly back and forth during these stages. Aptly named, isn't it? These rapid movements are the movements of our eyes in our dreams. In whichever direction we look in the dreams, our eyeballs rotate to that direction beneath the eyelids.

Now, let us talk about dreams for a while. Not stupid rotating eyeballs, but the real stuff. People say our brain indexes our daily memories during dreams. Our daily memories are re-arranged and stuffed in for later use. But what exactly are dreams? We spend our days waking. We all learn during our waking lives. We memorize new facts, new talents, new changes, all while awake. So why do we need to go all unconscious to "actually" learn or memorize these? We have already done it while waking. Sleeping is something we have all done since we were barely a week old, not questioning why it happens to us, simply accepting it as a daily activity. And we grow older, and it grows more firm into us that sleep is ordinary, nothing whatsoever strange. But I'll tell you one thing: it is downright creepy; dreams, even more so.

Why do we sleep at night, when all is dark and silent? When nights are associated with demons, ghosts, spirits and all that stuff? There is a simple reason for this primitive, ancient belief: it is true. Evil captures the Earth each night, or at least what our ancestors believed. We don't want to see that evil. It scares every being. All life abhors dying, which the Devil brings. So, for a simple brain, it stops seeing. Seeing is believing. When it doesn't see, it won't believe. It won't believe, and is hence "safe" from evil. And hence, as time further progressed, their eyes remained shut throughout the night. A process which is a layman's definition of sleep. A single-celled life-form doesn't sleep. Nor do many other multi-cellular beings. Then why do all organisms with a backbone sleep? Why are they terrified of the night and shut it out by closing their eyes for hours?

Why do these creatures have a backbone by the way? Support? No, not at all. Our brain controls our body and all its actions. Except one kind. Reflex actions. The backbone is responsible for this. Why do we need a backbone when our brain is capable enough and would have evolved in a few thousand years to manage reflex actions as well? As a matter of fact, we don't need a backbone. The backbone needs us. You see, it is a parasitic creature passed on from one generation to the next in all chordates. This parasite, this evil creature is responsible for our sleep. Responsible for making us unconscious when we close our eyes for long. Making us more vulnerable to the Devil. Sleep paralysis. We are unable to move in our sleep. A lucid dreamer, who has learned to override certain lock-downs of the brain, often experiences these while waking up. Backbone provides a support, as well as a place for nerves to go to the brain. So basically whatever out brain tells the limbs to do is indirectly controlled by the backbone. The backbone causes sleep paralysis. It locks down our limbs, hence leaving us vulnerable to the Devil. But there's REM. Our eyes move, as I discussed earlier. Our eyes stay conscious because they are directly connected to the brain. No backbone there to override control to it.

The backbone, however makes the brain "unconscious," and goes over the memories of our day. To know if in any way its existence is under threat, often killing its host when it is. And whenever we have nightmares, they are mere reminders for us, but a nagging glitch in the working of the backbones. Simply a reminder of what is waiting for us. But the backbones prevent us from looking into the infrared spectrum. Our eyes are very well capable of this feat, my experiments have seen to that. But the backbones override this capability. They don't want us to remember what our eons old ancestors tried to dismiss from their minds. The Devil is visible in infrared. True infrared, not the conversion of infrared into the visible spectrum often used by us humans. All this work by the backbone to weaken our mental power, the power our minds hold over our bodies. Even now we have certain powers over our bodies (as demonstrated by the Placebo experiments), but not as much as before. Notable exceptions are people with ESP powers, those with a malfunctioning backbone.

I don't want to bore you, and hence here is my final paragraph.

People often die in their sleep. Either because the backbone's "mission" was revealed to the host, or because the Devil was there. It was there to take the poor soul, a mere being without defense, courtesy of the backbone. The remaining people wait unknowingly for the oblivion. Which soon comes, either in our dreams, or when the Devil checks its appointments (there is a long waiting list, hence the people die at an old age). Occasionally the Devil possesses souls in their sleep. Some late night fun, for the Devil, it is. Frightening others and assessing them, trying to know if they are worthy of an upper spot on its appointment list, through puppeteering a mere body. But remember, the Devil always sees everyone on its appointment list.

This too much for you to take? Obviously. The backbone has some special controls over your brain. Over your mind, over what you believe to be true and what you don't.

Oh, and are you wondering how I know all this? Sorry for referring myself as your kind, because I am not. I am no human. I am not a vertebral creature from Earth. Is this too much to take in?

 It's been awhile since I saw it. A seizure causing flashing light to most, but a rainbow to me. It was mystifying. I thought it was anyways. I now see that I was blinded by youthful hope and happiness...

It all started out two years ago. I was a huge anime fan and I had seen the banned episode of Pokèmon with the Porygon caused seizures hundreds of times. I also had an unreasonable attraction to short stories on the internet, Creepypastas, I believe they were called. They gave me nightmares, but I loved them. I couldn't stop reading them. It must've been my youthful mind telling me to scare myself into not sleeping, I guess. Anyways, it was my Freshman year of high school, and being that I barely knew anyone, I started hanging out with one of my old friends that ended up in a few of my classes. Over the years, he became a "raver" and a so-called "emo." That's a label that always confused me. Emo. There was Emo, Goth, Suicidal, and they all ended up being related to each other. They shouldn't have been. Hell, I've been a suicidal mess for more than eight years now, yet I wasn't "Emo" or "Goth." I was just distant.

Back to the story, though. My friend had several strobe light apps on his iPhone, and he showed me one that he claimed would get me high. I'm a goody-two-shoes about drug use and getting high, so I refused. He didn't give up though. Every chance he got, he would shine the strobe lights toward my eyes, until one day I caved, after he scratched me down my face (I'm a wrestler, so I have a feeling he knew that that was all he would successfully manage to land on me). Red. Blue. Green. Yellow. White. They flashed so fast, and I swear to God, they made shapes. Faces even. Of course, I only saw them when I closed my eyes. Mainly, I saw two glowing red eyes that seemed to stare into my soul.

I saw it in the corner of my eye during everything I did. It ruined my only part of the day that brought me any happiness; my sleeping. It made me fear closing my eyes. I feared blinking, swimming, video games, even computers, for they just caused me to blink more. It was in my head. It changed my thoughts, it worsened my depression, it made me bleed. Nobody believed me, though. I would give them vivid descriptions of everything that happened, and they would brush it off as some "depressed emo fag blowing smoke up their ass" (Someone's exact words...). By this point, I had seen it's full body, aside from it's red, blood colored, and covered face. I was dying to see it's face. I was dying...

I couldn't cope with it. Knowing it was watching me at all times of the day, but not being able to do anything about it. What was worse though? The lack of control, or the constant fear that I could die at anytime, depending on this creature's will. What could it have possibly wanted from me? Why didn't my friend get afflicted with this curse? He saw the strobe lights just as much as me. No. He saw them more than me. Maybe it fed on resistance. Maybe it could smell corruption on my friend, but could smell nothing but a clean spirit from me. I didn't care. I couldn't stand closing my eyes and seeing it.

A year later, my sophomore year, I decided to cut off my eyelids. I had cut off my bottom eyelid on each eye, and I looked in the mirror to see my work. I was mystified at the sight I had seen. The blood covering my face in the perfectly specific areas. I then knew what I had seen in my visions. The future. My future. I don't know what happened. How... Why... My life began to flash. Followed by red, then blue, then green, yellow. Finally, white. Everything was white. Until I woke up in the hospital later. Apparently they replaced my lower lids with some synthetic skin or something.

I still see it sometimes. It's eyes no longer red, it's face no longer looks blood red and sinister, it just appears to be a constant reminder. A reminder that life shouldn't be taken for granted. I see that no matter how hard life is treating me, I have to keep pushing through. On most days anyways. On some days, I can see it's blood red eyes piercing my soul. I once again remember that day looking at my nearly dead self in the mirror, looking at that thing in the mirror. Looking... Red... Blue... Green... Yellow... And then everything goes white...

Written by DownbeatAura

I lived in a not very well known city since it never had that many interesting events nor was it the prettiest or the city that had the best restaurants so it was as I said not very popular. In this city I lived with my husband and everything seemed to be going perfectly. Well everything was going perfectly. The only problem at that time was I thought we lived to far from everyone since we were at least 200 ft away from our first neighbor but besides that everything was great.

One day we were thinking of the idea of a pet or a child we knew we weren't going to get ether for a while but we were just thinking about it. We didn't have enough money to support ether of those so we decided to wait on both. The day when I first saw her he went to work first since I had to work a night shift and he had to work at the office during the afternoon so I would have to walk to work since he took the car. It was around 5:30 P.M. when I left to go to work. It was oddly foggy out for our city but I also seem to remember seeing no cars drive by then I saw her.

She was at least 5 ft 7in and had long dark brown hair. She wore an extremely odd yet beautiful style black dress with red rose design on it. She also wore a necklace with a decaying four leaf clover it was almost completely black and the stem was missing. She also carried a black umbrella like the umbrellas people normally bring to funerals. She just stood there looking at the ground.

I stopped and walked slowly towards her and I was nervous and I thought there was something off about her and I wasn't sure what it was. As I approached her the turned cold and the animals that were out were dead silent. She looked at me with a cold stare her face was beautiful and emotionless she then looked back down out the ground. "A squirrel has died today its tail was ripped off and its legs crushed its eyes had even popped out and one was crushed yet no one seems to care.

Yet it has a beauty isn't it?" she said then took a step closer. "Perhaps it's because it's just a soulless animal that no one cares to shed a tear. I shall make your death have a purpose." she said almost whispering this time. A second after that she curtsied then said " Hello madam, do you know what you fear most and what you should truly fear?".

I was unnerved I had no Idea what to do but I decided to say something and leave. "No I don't and I have to go to work." I said softly walking away from the woman. I was slightly disturbed then I looked back yet she had disappeared I went back to walking to work but the fog started to get worse. I heard tapping and I started to walk faster then I heard the tapping get louder as if the person was right behind me. I turned around yet no one was there. I sighed then a car was right in front of me the man driving kept yelling at me but I was in shock I walked away scared but thinking it's just terrible day.

I finally got to work and saw my best friend Lilly. " Hi Lilly how have you been?" I said with a smile but still shaken up. She looked at me and smiled "I've been good how are you and your husband?" she said walking over to the meals for her table. "We're ok I've had better days though." I said walking towards the door out of the kitchen. I lied since I didn't feel like answering questions.

I was told to go to my table so I walked then saw my friend's new table it was that woman she had only ordered a water and she was talking to Lilly then when Lilly had turned her back the woman glared at her. She then smiled as she turned her head to me and she left a dollar even though water is free then walked to me it started to get colder as she got closer she then whispered " She is such a good girl what a shame." and walked away.

I then walked home it was night and I could of swore someone was watching me yet I ignored the feeling since I couldn't see anyone. I still couldn't help but think about her. I thought of her and got chills but I the end I decided to think she was crazy or trying to bother me. Later I got in my house and told my husband about it and we sat down together "I saw the creepiest woman today."

I said leaning on him. "Really, what was she like?" he asked with a smile. "She was beautiful yet the the way she spoke and the things she spoke about were disturbing she even showed up at my job. I also almost got hit by a car I had a rough day." I said now getting goose bumps. "Well I'm glad you're okay. Why don't we relax and get some sleep?" he said comforting me." "Okay" I said with a smile and hugged him.

Later during that night I had heard what sounded like high heels walking outside our door. "Do you hear that?" I asked my husband rolling over to face him. "No what do you hear?" he asked waking up a bit. "I hear what sounds like high heels walking closer to our room.". "Alright I'll go check it out" he said as he grabbed baseball bat we kept in our room. "Be careful." I said worried he might get hurt. "I will be." he said about to open the door.

He left for a few minutes then he yelled "Nobody is out here.". I was relieved and decided to fall asleep. I heard him lay down as I started to drift. When I finally fell asleep my dream slowly twisted into a nightmare. It started off just me at work nothing interesting then I spotted the woman and she slowly walks towards me. Her high heels kept making a tapping noise which started to get unnerving as she got closer. "Will you weep for the death of your beloved?" she said coldly.

I just stared at her horrified at what she was talking about then I started saying "This is only a dream you can't hurt me.". She smiled then whispered "Madam I can hurt you." she grabbed my arm then slashed it with her sharp nails. Then she laughed as I bled her laugh was the distorted and horrifying. I then woke up and realized my arm was bleeding and I screamed.

My husband jumped up horrified and confused then looked around the room then at me. He saw I was bleeding then asked "What happened?" he then said "I'm going to get something to stop the bleeding." he said rushing out the door.

I waited for him to get bandages as I held my stinging arm as the warm blood flowed through the cracks in between my fingers. He came back with rubbing alcohol and bandages. "I don't know how this happened." I said breaking the silence. " Well that should stop the bleeding. I don't know what could of caused this." he said. "I just want to go back to sleep." I whispered to him. He nodded and laid back down.

I woke up and looked at my husband. He smiled and said "Good morning.". "Well you have to go to work early today so let's get going." I told him while I opened the door. "Oh alright." he said with a smile. We did everything normally we had breakfast and then he got dressed in his work clothes. "Got everything you need honey." I said hugging him. "Yeah I everything love you." he said rushing. "I love you too dear." I said giving him a quick hug then I told him "Be careful ok.". He nodded then ran out the door.

I watched him get in the car then leave but right before he left in the distance I thought I saw that woman smiling and standing there. I sat down and watched TV then the TV turned off by itself and refused to come back on. I started to worry since I had seen that woman thinking she might have done something to the car or him. Then there was a soft knocking on the door then it slowly creaked open.

Then suddenly it felt like the room was pulsing after that it turned and I heard the tapping of high heels. I started to run as I heard the tapping slowly coming close. Soon I started to hear humming as the tapping got louder and started to speed up. I ran till I found a closet to hide in upstairs and when I opened the closet to find my husband colorless, impaled, his leg bones broken out of his skin with chunks of muscle stuck on the bone, and an expression of horror on his face. I gagged from the sight about to vomit but found it odd that with all these wounds there was no blood.

I felt someone behind me then I heard the woman whisper in my ear"Now weep madam.". I pushed her away as she laughed and I couldn't control my tears I was crying so much I could barely see then I said softly "W-What are you?". She smiled and said "Madam my name is Clover and I always hated people I was alive before you all existed it was beautiful yet humans destroy nature which makes me unhappy but you didn't ask that.

You want to know what I am well I am the beauty of nature and death.". She pulled out a maggots from her dress then said "That squirrel kept this alive so your husband will keep more alive along with other creatures death can equal life madam but you humans don't like that idea. Isn't it beautiful madam?" she said rubbing the tears off my face. "Why are you doing this to me?" I said pushing her hand away.

She smacked me across the face her nails leaving cuts and then proceeded to choke me then said "Madam I do this because it's fun and you all deserve this.". She laughed as I tried to escape her grip finally I got her off me then I grabbed the bat and hit her with all of my strength and a blood was on the bat yet she was perfectly fine then I hear her giggle as if it had just tickled her.

I ran away as I heard her whisper "I know what you fear most and I promise you will suffer miss.". I then heard what sounded like my husband whispering "Why didn't you help me.". It started to get darker and seemed like the hallway was neverending. The hallway started pulsating and I fell down when I looked up everything was normal the TV was even gone then the phone rang. I got a call saying my husband died gruesomely in a car accident. I sat on the couch and cried and after about I decided to call Lilly since I needed someone to talk yet the response I got once someone answered was "Why?" then the phone hung up.

I had nightmares of that same "Why?" that my friend had said the one nightmare that haunted me the longest started out with me walking down a long hallway. The stench of rotten flesh was lingering in the air. Then after a minute I started to hear someone whispering "Why?".

Soon it stopped then I hear bones cracking and it was coming closer. My heart was pounding faster as the cracking noise got louder. I then saw what was making that horrible noise it was my decaying husband walking he looked worse his skin was missing chunks revealing bone, some skin was still hanging from his body, and an eye was missing. I woke up screaming then I looked around I realized it was a nightmare and tried to get some sleep.

Three days later the police then came to my house to ask me questions because my friend had been missing for three days. They asked me a few questions and I answered them honestly except a few but that's because I don't think they'd believe me. They left and I waved as they left and decided that I can't do this anymore I wanted to die. I sat on the couch for 15 minutes. I then went and bought rope and then drove home hoping to end the suffering of everyone I know since she got has taken the two people most important in my life.

I got everything ready as I knotted the rope and grabbed a chair. I stood there for a moment then put the rope around my neck. "God please save me from her." I whispered the kicked the chair but then I heard the rope snap. I went to see what had happened and it turned out someone cut the rope I then heard that tapping again. I was furious and screamed at the top of my lungs "You Bitch!". She walked up to me and then said calmly " Madam you will die but I would prefer if you suffered first. She then smiled and walked away.

She is still watching me I know because I see her eyes staring through all the reflective objects I own. Now mirrors have become a hell all I see is the horrified faces of my friend and husband now I no longer have anymore mirrors. Once in a while I will see my friend and I will run after her but she will be long gone still saying "Why?". I wish someone could help me but I'm a lost cause. Please heed my warning and run if you see her and pray to your god that she doesn't follow you.

I can see her there.






I slowly climb a little more, my feet deft and my hands gripping tightly on the window ledge. It isn’t a particularly pretty night; the rain is coming down in buckets, drenching me in her cold content, as if she thinks what I plan is disgraceful, and she calls up storm to put me off. As if a little bad weather will stop me from doing what I need to do. I decide to stop putting the deed off, and decide to finally try and get inside the cosy little room. I dig my nails into the wooden frame of the window, slowly lifting, the rain still growling at me. 
She thinks too inside the box. She doesn’t anything I do. As if my art isn’t any good. My methods are innovative, unique, and of course, excellent in my execution of my piece. I see no possible way it could go wrong, but still she growls, swiping through the air with her bright, blinding whip, trying to intimidate me, put me off of my wonderful idea. No. I need to stay focused; my piece needs to be finished on time. The window is up now. I look back inside the room, the quiet little breathing from the lump in the bed makes her sweet sounds, the quiet little toneless noise that no music could mimic. Breathing.

I start to paint my picture. I walk in, no creaks from the floor, no disturbances, nothing to ruin this perfect painting. With the exception of the rain, everything seemed to be in my favour. But, the rain, the banshee that she is, wouldn’t want me to finish it, she oozes pure hatred for my work, I can tell. She just cares for herself, not of what is good or perfect.

And she would do worse.

Stop. No time for this. No time for thinking about nonsense, the canvas needs a painting, and it shall be painted upon. I stepped a little further, ever so close to her now, a few more steps and I could finally make her into a beauteous art piece. It was so close, so nearly finished. But she doesn’t want this. She screams with the top of her lungs, her voice rumbles the very foundations as she screeches in hatred, the lump now rising, it sees me, it knows I want it’s blood, but I cant stop. I pounce, my nails buried in her face, her eyes now red with blood as her siren like screams pierce the air.

I scream back at her.

“This isn’t right. This isn’t right. Why would you do this, why couldn’t you accept, why couldn’t you love, why couldn’t you let me create, why couldn’t you? I did what I had to because I love my work. I loved you once, but you stopped me, you stopped me, your own son from his work, your own son from his life!”

She still screams, my hands in her eyes. She thrashes, hoping that I’ll let go, but I cling on, blood seeping down her face now, her mouth now being flooded with the red, pure, hatred. She slashes blindly at my face, clawing at anything she can. She gets a swipe across my left cheek. I scream at her, I push my fingers in her eyes even harder.

“You couldn’t leave me alone could you? You had to ruin everything, didn’t you? Destroy everything I had worked for? I thought you loved me!”

She coughs out another scream, blood splatters onto me, everything going wrong.

“It was supposed to be the greatest art piece, not… this, not this.”

She stops breathing. The blood has gotten into her lungs at this point. She dies, just like that, everything ruined. I breathe heavily, tired out from creating this travesty of a work of art. Her face is ruined. The rain has stopped. She’s gone, and left me with nothing but a scratch. I turn away, and head towards the window, the painting ruined, the beauty lost, but not before looking at the mirror. Not much to look at, just a few glassy eyes, and a few scars.

No time. No time for anything anymore.

Must rest. Must get away from this.

Must get away from mother.

Idea contributed by a close friend, who asked if she could stay anonymous in the making of this Creepypasta. Editing, posting and writing of the Creepypasta is contributed by sleepylullaby141.

It was midnight. The lunar light from the moon gleamed on my bed sheets, sparkling through the window. I started to uncover the soft, warm blankets when I heard what sounded like shuffling coming from behind me. I turned around but nothing was in my sight. I continued to crawl under my bed sheets, warming up with the fabric of it all.

As if on cue, I immediately fell into a deep slumber, where I found myself having a dream. Behold and below was a figure of pure beauty. I saw a young woman, a few years younger than me by her looks of it, with long, flowing bright blonde hair falling around her back and shoulders perfectly. The body that contained this image who was quite frail and fragile looking, a small, skinny, short figure covered in an oddly torn dress reaching her mid-thigh with stains on it. Blue crystalline eyes stared into mine as she reached out a fair hand out to me. I walked up to her, placing my hand on hers, but what seemed like an invisible boundary like a mirror or a window separated us, and she slowly started to fade away. Suddenly, I heard my mother's voice screaming my name, calling me to come downstairs.

My mum had died years ago.

I could not restrain myself. I woke up in a cold sweat, heavily panting as I swung my legs away from my bed. I rushed down to the top of the stairs and stumbled on almost every single step I came upon. When I had reached the bottom, I saw the surprising moment I had hoped for. Bags were in the air as my mum held the luggage in her hands, a weary look on her face as if she had returned from the trip she had left so long ago for. I ran up to her like a small lad seeing his mother after work like a fool. It felt as if I had finally found the missing link.

I led her to our couch, afraid she may not remember where everything is. I retrieved some crisps from the kitchen and turned off the telly, sitting down next to her. We sat there, not daring to move or speak until she finally opened her mouth, me hoping that it was to tell me why she was here and what happened so long ago.

"Felix, when I had left for California on the trip years ago, I had come across a drunk driver on the road. He was good so far on being safe but after a while I could see that he was failing. He suddenly stopped on the highway as I slammed into his rear bumper of his old car. I met some civilians who guided me on the way home and helped her stay alive after the berk that had crashed into me." She spoke out, her voice cracking and squeaking.

I hugged her tightly again, letting her embrace hold me as her cold hands reached around my back. "I love you, Felix." She cooed as she let me go, a warm smile on her face.

I smiled back and yawned, slightly not wanting to remember the past. I did care about my mum, and I did love that she was back, but I did wish to forget it all and return to the way that life should be. I stretched and blinked. "I don't know about you but I am really tired. I believe you know where your bedroom is still?"

She smiled and nodded. "Yes. I remember. Thank you." Hugging me again, I hoped that I would be able to text my shy girlfriend Alicia, but that all came to an end when my mother's cold grip held on to me as I struggled to get away. I glimpsed at her and her face flickered into one of a gruesome image. Her eyes were pure bloody black, blood pouring out of the sockets. Her image was similar to the girl in my dream, being small, frail, and skinnier, having an anorexic look. I took in that look as she whispered, "Mommy always loves you." 
That was the last thing I had heard before the rusty, steel knife was thrust into my back, and I blacked out.

I was lying in the bed one night, many moons ago.

When I felt the rise and fall of breathing, a different rhythm than my own.

It thrilled me, chilled me, scared me, struck a frightening tone.

For 'neath this bed was a corpse, that was only skin and bones.

Somewhere in Columbus, Ohio there lived a young boy. Josh was always a normal child, always doing normal things.

At least, that's what it looked like from the outside. Inside Josh always felt alone, his father was a cocaine addict and his mother not too bright.

Keeping to himself in his room and playing with the many toys they bought to occupy him with, it always felt so empty.

That's when Josh had wished for a friend. When Josh was 6, he spent most of the time in the bathroom, playing with the water, or in his room, playing with his toys.

One day a large mirror on the inside of the bathroom door caught his attention. It was himself, he knew that. He always knew that but there was something about him that was different. His appearance didn't move and smile like he did.

The mirror was a long mirror, about half the size of the door and could easily show his full stature. It was the middle of the afternoon, his mother was sleeping and his father was at work when the young boy he was looking at spoke to him.

"Want to play?"

Josh didn't know what to make of it. He didn't feel scared, but it all felt so real to him. The reality overtook him as the boy seemed to move from the mirror in front of him.

Josh just smiled like usual, and nodded his head.

The boy led himself to Josh's room, where the ground was cluttered with Josh's toys. This allowed the two to laugh and play together with ease. Over the next few months, Josh's parents always noticed the loud noises coming from Josh and his room. Always talking to himself, toys moving around as he played. His parents always asked who he was talking to or who he was playing with. Several times assuming he had an imaginary friend but Josh always answered with absolute certainty, "Jacob."

Over the next two years, Josh had been focusing more on cartoons and real life friends then playing with Jacob. Sometimes, when Josh wasn't home, his mother could hear toys dropping upstairs. Jacob didn't appear too often but there was always a sign that he was there and Josh was beginning to fear his room. Josh was afraid of even being near upstairs if he was alone.

When Josh turned nine, a lot of things were going wrong. He was beginning to feel others' emotions easily; however, it wasn't like empathy. It was more like feeling sympathy and sorrow. Josh was already showing signs of anxiety because of his fears and now this new turn was worrying everyone around him. No one believed that he had a friend in his own room. Although his father didn't believe him, his father could sense the adamant fear within Josh's eyes whenever he was forced to go to his room alone. Over this year, Josh had forced himself to sleep in the living room.

In the fall, Josh entered fourth grade and was beginning to forget all about his young friend. That was when the nightmares began. They were nothing serious at first. Things disappearing, his pets dying, his friends leaving. Things that one day did happen and not too far fetched either. But not in the way they were shown. His dreams were over exaggerated, a lot more gory and frightening for a child his age to even think up but he kept their existence to himself.

Weeks passed and the dreams got more intense as his birthday passed, the next year coming around and everything went by normally. In March, the dreams began again except this time. It showed his father. Someone breaking in and killing him.

Repeatedly mutilating his body until there was nothing left. The next day, his mother and father got into a large fight but nothing too different, there was just so much negative energy in the air. It was as if anger and rage itself was filling the house but still, Josh was scared of his dream and begged his mother to stay home though she ignored his pleads.

Earlier that day, Josh's uncle had dropped off a computer for his father fix it up. It was so that Josh could have it for school and socializing. Josh's father had stayed up late to finish it after Josh had fallen asleep on the living room floor.

A small mattress from a pull-out couch was laid across the floor so he could rest peacefully. The next morning, Josh woke up. His morning cartoons were over and he was almost late for school. The first thing that he did was try to wake his father up. Screaming at him for making him miss his cartoons.

Josh's father didn't wake. No matter how many times his small hands pushed his father's body, rocking it back and forth, he didn't move. Screaming 'Daddy!' over and over before noticing a pale gray bubble formed around his lips. Out of instinct, Josh ran into the kitchen and grabbed a knife. Protruding the bubble and breaking it open. The foam moved but his father still wasn't breathing.

His mother worked night shift and would be home within the hour and his mind couldn't even think about the police. His mom was the only thing running through his mind as he ran up the steps. His fear, disappearing as he rummaged through his room for the phone book to call the number his mom had left him. Returning downstairs, Josh called the number but she was already on her way home. Still in his pajamas, Josh walked outside and sat on the front steps. He couldn't cry anymore. He just couldn't.

He couldn't tell how long it took his mother to come home but the moment she drove into the drive way, she could tell something was wrong. Asking Josh what was wrong, he replied in a single, monotone voice. Over and over.

"Dad Dead."

"Dad Dead."

"Dad Dead."

Running inside, she found his father's corpse on the floor. Josh walked in slowly, keeping still, watching as she fumbled for the phone to call the police. Crying for him to come back. Crying for him to be okay. Josh just stood there. His eyes watching the scene.

It wasn't long for the police and medics to arrive. They said that his father had not died in his sleep, but in fact fell. Having a heart attack and a stroke at the same time as if something scared him. While the Medics were there, Josh sat on the top step of the stairs looking down. He swore he could hear Jacob's laughter, however drowned out by the people. As the medics left, one thing bore into Josh's mind as the medics spoke loud enough so that he could hear.

"If your son knew CPR, he could have saved his life."

Depression took hold of Josh from that point on. Things leaving and dying around him. Disappearing. None of it could even be explained and anyone that dated him stated that something told them to leave. Josh was forever cursed and haunted by that little boy from the mirror. The little boy now trapped within himself. Forever watching his very step.

If you're ever lonely... Never try to play with yourself.

My name is Donna and I am 17 years old, turning 18 in November 2012. I am homeless and have no job. I'm using a public free Wi-Fi connection to write this. I don't go to school any more, but I used to go to a well-known girls only school in Melbourne in Australia. I used to be popular when I went to school, but I have no friends left. My boyfriend left me. My family was murdered.

All I want to do is share my story with you. I'm not looking for sympathy, as it won't get me anywhere.

It all started when two years ago, when I was 15 and about to turn 16. My life was never perfect, but I was happy and that's all that mattered. I had a lot of good friends and a boyfriend, who I really liked at the time.

I got a missed call one day, from a private number while I was in school. Of course, I didn't think much of it at the time. I didn't know about Clowny or Clownface or whatever he's called, so I just ignored it. Besides, I was in class and the teacher would've taken my phone if I answered.

Exactly three days later, I got another call from a private number, on my way home from school. I usually don't take calls from private numbers, so I ignored it. But I kept getting calls over and over again from what I guessed was the same private number. So I picked up and instead of saying hello, I said some mean stuff over the phone.

Something like, "What the f***, why are you f***ing calling me again and again." I expected an angry response, but instead I heard nothing. For a while that is. A few seconds later, I heard the worst sound you will ever hear in your life. It was a hideous, horrible laughter. The moment I heard it, I had this feeling. This sick feeling. It was unbearable. The most massive shudder went up my spine and I actually physically shook. I turned the phone off straight after, thinking it was a prank call.

But week after week, the same thing happened, over and over again. I got the same call every three days and I would listen to the same laughter over and over again. The first time, the laughter hadn't been very clear, but it got clearer and clearer with each call.

I tried to tell my boyfriend, but he wouldn't listen. He shrugged it off at first and we laughed about it like all couples do. But later, he started to doubt that I was telling the truth and said I should see the doctor. I knew I wasn't making things up, I had always been intelligent, popular and athletic and there was nothing wrong with me.

Still, I saw the doctor. She didn't believe me either.

The only person who sort of believed me was my sister. Deep down, I could tell she was skeptical, but she always tried to comfort me.

Then one day, it happened. I'll never ever forget that day. I was walking towards the train station with my boyfriend, with his arm around my shoulder. I got another call. He told me to put it on loudspeaker and I did. First, I got the same laughter as usual, except much clearer. Finally, at the end, the voice said "Hello David," and the line was disconnected.

David was my boyfriend's name. He totally freaked out. To think, he always used to act all tough in school, he was strong and athletic, and now, when it actually mattered, I realized what a coward he was. He left me right there on the spot. His exact words were, "I don't want anything to do with this bullshit." He pushed me away and left.

I took the train and ran home from the nearest station crying my heart out. It was Friday, cold as f**k and raining. There was nobody in my house when I got home, except probably my sister. I cried and cried and cried.

Then I got another call, about half an hour later.

I knew it was the same laughing voice. I yelled at the phone, "WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME!?" It said, "Hi Donna. Turn around."

I turned around and saw the scariest thing ever. It was my sister. It was my sister's body, but the face was someone else's. It was a clown's face on my sister's body. And it was smiling the biggest smile ever. Not an evil smile, just a normal happy smile. But the fact that it was happy is what was so evil about it.

So my sister was staring at me, with a clown face and a smile and a knife in her hand, coated with blood. I looked at the floor and saw blood spilling into my room from the hallway. I screamed, and I tried to run away but it grabbed me and smiled at me. It stabbed me in the leg and put a bag over my head. I could sort of see through the bag and I could tell it was about to kill me.

I thought I was a goner. But just then, I heard my mother screaming, "Donna, run!" She jumped onto my sister/clown and I ran. I saw my dad and dog lying dead in the hallway and I heard my mother scream. I looked behind me and the sister/clown was running after me with impossible speed. He was literally like a horse, he was running so fast. I screamed and its face was right up mine and I tripped and fell down and passed out.

All I remember since is dreaming and a voice saying, "I will be back Donna... I will be back." I woke up to see my house burnt to crisps. What happened next is not relevant. I have never seen Clowny since and I live in constant fear. I found a picture on the internet that is what I remember it looked like, which I have posted below. Please help me! I will do anything, just please help me! Please!

As I woke up, I felt nauseous. My head filled with blurry visions of my nightmare. As I got up, my eyes were heavy. I forced myself downstairs. I walked into the kitchen, to the coffee pot and began pouring the coffee. I walked to the living room, and began to watch T.V. My mind still half asleep, I dozed off.

I remember getting awaken to the sound of glass breaking. It sounded like it came from the kitchen. I got up and walked to the kitchen, not knowing what to except. I looked up at the ceiling and noticed the light bulb was broken. It was flickering on and off. I looked back down and I remember suddenly not being able to move.

Standing there was a clown. It's eyes were pitch black. It looked distorted. It's arms went down to the ground. It had to be at least 7 feet tall. It was extraordinarily thin I might add. It's costume and hat looked very worn. It's skin was torn and looked as if it had been stretched, and tinted a light shade of grey. It appeared to be crying. It then stopped and slowly looked up at me.

That's when I woke up and sat up almost instantaneously. Thank God it was just a dream I thought. The weird thing is ever since that dream, I always feel as if I'm being watched. Now and then, I always day dream. Except that all I see is that tall skinny figure of the clown and whenever I see it, I get nauseous. It looks more realistic every time, too. I honestly doubt the fact it isn't real more and more every time I see it. 
Maybe, Just maybe It isn't. 

I'll first state that in nearly every dream I have, I am more than capable of simply opening my eyes at any time during the dream, and force myself awake. I rarely do this, but when I do, the results are instant and usually satisfactory. I'll also explain the term, "False Awakening". This is when you wake up from a single dream, into another dream. This can be confusing.

Now, as my nightmare began, I was inside of a school, and had just left it. My...

My boyfriend was with me, and we were walking and joking around. This was actually nice. We proceeded apace, and the school began to disappear, us being in a different setting. This being a dream, and in fact, a dream that I believe was lucid, I could easily handle this.

What I could not handle was what soon happened after. While I was in the new setting, which was simply a suburban town, my boyfriend ceased to exist and I simply walked along, being oblivious to his absence. This was intentional, but I feel I began to lose control of the dream at this point. I was hit by a sudden feeling of great danger, and my chest was hit with a great pain. This passed after a few seconds, though I feel that I may or may not have had control afterwards.

Cannot Escape...
Something, some thought or being told me, in words, that I was currently dreaming. I already knew this, and I accepted it. They continued to say that in real life, I was currently in an ambulance and being carried to the hospital for a heart attack. I was told that if I woke up, I would die from a heart attack instantly. I believed this entirely, for it was my mind telling me it was so, and my mind saw fit to believe it.

The only issue was, when I die in a dream, I wake up. My nightmare so began to attempt to kill me. Trees swirled, and I felt the pain as they tore my arm open, crashing by. I fled, and I could control only part of the dream, and that was the part I was intensely focused on. I manipulated the dream, I tried to make it better, but I couldn't leave it, I believed and still do believe in a way that if I had woken up, I would die. I fear death more than anything. Anything at all.

The dream went further. Suddenly, I was watching people I know being killed by frightful things. Fires sprouted from nothingness, and I caught aflame only to be put out by my mind. A flood was parallel to me, crashing through the buildings and about to hit me and kill me. I couldn't let myself die. If I died, I would die.

So I ran, and I manipulated the dream further. A tornado began to chase me, then a second one. I managed to deal with one, but the second one hit me as I began screaming, as the pain went over my body and I truly felt the pain. I was thrown into the air and slammed into a house, my limbs being torn from my body and my body breaking as I died.

I then experienced what was the scariest moment of my life, and that of which I remember so clearly, even now. As I awoke from the dream, having died, I didn't wake into my room. I experienced a false awakening, and awoke inside of an ambulance. My chest was burning, and I was trying to scream, but I couldn't make a sound. I was in so much pain, and I feared dying so badly. Everything I saw was tinted dark red, and black dots began to appear over my vision and widen. I was terrified. I still am. My last thoughts of that dream were not about me, they were about my boyfriend.

I suppose he must've liked that, though I've never told it to him.

I awoke from that dream with my chest hurting, into real life. My heart was beating rapidly, I was drenched in sweat, and the very first thing I did was turn and bite the pillow, screaming into it and not screaming simultaneously. My chest hurt so badly for a few minutes before subsiding. My left arm was sore for the day, and I've experienced nothing scarier.

Today, I still think that that dream came closer to killing me in real life than anything, including a tree that slammed into my room. That dream haunts me when I think about it, and it remains to be the only dream to have had me have a mental break-down, and even multiple. That night, I cried and I cried. I screamed, and I was in pain. When I later related it with my boyfriend, who was more than surprised at me being sensitive instead of the cold, unfeeling vessel I usually behave like, I cried to him. It hurt me so badly, and scared me so badly.

I'm still terrified that the last thoughts I had when I truly believed myself to be dying was not of me, but of him. Make of that what you will.

We cried together, and discussed death, and the other dying. I have a tendency to have dreams recur. I never, ever want that one to. I would be too terrified, too scared, I am too terrified and too scared. I don't want it to happen. It makes me scared to this day.

"Do you feel safe in your house? Does your house have secure doors and windows? Do you trust your neighbors, if you even have any?"

I ask these questions, but I already know the answers. I know so much about you. I know how you tick, I know how you tock. I know what makes you happy, I know what makes you angry, and I know what makes you afraid. I have been watching you since you were just a young one; my how’ve you grown.

You used to be afraid, when you were just a little one. You hated going to sleep unless you’re nightlight was on. No matter, I will just hide in the shadows that you’re bright wall casts. I am quiet. I am still. Oops, was that creek on the wall a bit loud, just blame it on the house settling or mice and fall asleep. You got older, started to believe less and less in me. You always had a scientific answer for the creeks and the warps; they were the pipes and the air conditioning. That’s perfectly okay with me. I don’t gain or lose power due to you believing in me.

Your fears were still so easy to exploit. I know how much you hate spiders; here is a nightmare about them. I know that test tomorrow is stressing you out as well, here’s a dream about that too.

You must think that you are so strong, that you can take on the world. Your parents say that the world is your oyster and that you have all that it takes to be whatever you want. All I see is just another sack of meat that fears the unknown. I know because I am the unknown.

You may find yourself to have a night in which you are reminded of my ultimate and my infinite power; the power that you will never fully understand, the power that you will never reach. You will find yourself waking up from horrifying nightmares of my own creation and you will look around your room. I will still be watching, staring at you, waiting to finally meet you.

You may fall asleep again, I creep closer, bringing the darkness and the shadow closer with me. I will start at your feet.

You wake up again and I crouch underneath the bed. You may feel that the room has gotten darker and more enclosed, don’t mind that, just go back to sleep.

As you fall to sleep again, I resume by going underneath the blankets that you call to protect you. The protection that you normally feel from wrapping yourself in those sheets will soon become your everlasting prison.

I creep closer and closer as you start to toss and turn from yet another nightmare that I have manufactured from the years of my research. However, I have made sure that you will not wake up, not quite yet.

I slither all the way to the edge of the blankets. I also intensify that unpleasant dream that you are experiencing as you wake up once more. I really must say that I find so much pleasure in intensifying nightmares.

Once more, you look around the room, noticing that it is much darker. I can see you, I am just a foot or so from your face. You may never see me, but my pearly white eyes see you.

You start to drift off to sleep once more as I breathe out a bit. You notice right away as your body starts to shake and you start to sweat. You slowly pull the covers until you start to make out my true features.

You immediately notice my slightly troubled mouth. I know, I tried to clean up a bit before my grand entrance, but a few stitches that hold my mouth together may have fought loose a bit as I creeped up to you.

You start to scream as I breathe out the last thing that you will ever hear. The sound has been described as being the middle of a major windstorm, in the middle of an open space.

I make sure that you fall asleep right after, however, sometimes you might just faint. That saves me time. I creep back into my domain in the shadows to watch you as you sleep once more.

I am the shadows that dance across your room at night. I am the banging pipes and the spider in your dreams. I am the wind that feels a bit to close for comfort. I am the ultimate fear for you will always hear my cry as long as you live on this dump that you call home. I am the tormentor of those who refuse to abide by my rule.
I am The Ombra!

NOTICE: This story happened to a friend, not me. This is written in her point of view.

I remember when I was eleven I had just fallen asleep to have a very strange dream…

My mom was walking down Aisle 8 in Wal-Mart, talking on her cell phone. I was watching her from the end of the aisle. Suddenly, a man was heard running down the store. His shoes could be heard screeching to a stop at the end of the aisle mom was walking down. He looked terrifying, like a nervous psycho, running from the police. He took out a pistol and pointed it at my mom, then yelled, “If you take one step closer, I shoot!”

They couldn’t see her, and thought he was just bluffing. But to be sure, they called backup to go to the end and check the aisle. Mom was crying so hard. The burglar thought they called the police, and shot her. From the cell phone she had, I could hear crying and yelling.

I woke up crying and sweating. It was extremely late, as I went to bed at about 3:00 am. I looked at the clock and it was 1:00. I ran downstairs and called Mom right away. Thank God that she picked up.

“Mom?! Are you okay?!” I quickly blurt out.

“Of course, sweetie. Is something wrong?” my mom replied.

I smiled and calmed down, “Yeah. I’m fine. Just a bad dream.”

“Ok, honey.” She responded cheerfully.

I was about to say ‘bye’ and hang up, when a thought suddenly occurred to me.

“Mom, where are you?” I asked.

“I’m at Wal-Mart.” She replied.

There was a silence. “What aisle?” I quickly questioned.

“Hun, is something wrong? I’m in the CD aisle, Aisle 8.” She stated.

“Are you walking by an 80’s CD?” I remembered.

Another silence, “How did you know that?”

A strike of panic hit me quickly, “Mom, get out of the store. Now.” I demanded.

“Honey, what’s this about?” she questioned.

“GO!!!” I yelled.

I could hear the faint noise of a man running. “Hurry up!” I yelled.

My mom ran out of the store, only to notice the police rushing everyone out, as a murderer they had been looking for was just found hiding in the store. She quickly drove home and bust in the door to see me anxiously waiting there. I still remember, the first thing she said to me as she came in, “How did you know?!”

I smiled through tears and hugged her. “God told me.”

I later explained the dream to her, she was shocked, but she believed me. Let this be a lesson to you, trust your dreams. Sometimes it’s not just a coincidence.

I woke up in my room. Alone. This was another day of the daily grind, but this time, when I walked out of my bedroom, things were a little different. This hallway was clearly a hallway, but not my hallway. I went back into my room, and checked everything that I knew about my room that nobody else would, like the chip in my bed frame or the small peeling area of my wallpaper.

Everything was exactly the same. So, I walk into the hallway again, and I noticed that it changed a little bit, but I couldn’t put my finger on exactly what changed. So, as I walked forward, I heard a small whisper. It stated something about watching, but I didn’t completely hear it.

Anyway, I continued on into the hallway, which made me a small bit disoriented. Afterward, I heard another voice.

“Feeling dizzy, are you?” it asked.

In reply, I yelled for it to, whatever it was, let me back into my own house. In response to my command, it disobeys and shuts the hallway behind me. I start running, towards the place where the hall was closing.

I wake up, again. I have read about this kind of thing, where you can get stuck in an infinite dream loop. But whatever was talking to me was real, and I knew it. Then, in the distance, I heard, “I am.”

I am watching. I am all. I am data. I am V2tSS2IyTkhVa2hXVjJSaFlsVmFjVmRzUlRsUVVUMDk=

Go ahead, out your door. I dare you.

This is OC from a personal experience. Hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoy sharing it, it's one of those things that changed the way I handle whatever life throws my way. ~Volkoronado

My parents divorced when I was young and I was left to live with my mother and my sisters, so I looked up to my grandfather as a male role model ever since. Sadly, he passed away when I was 6 or so, so I didn't really have a chance to talk about life with him. However, he taught me a valuable lesson through his stories.

As far as I know, he was horned by a bull, a train rammed his truck (which left him with more than 100 stitches all over his body), he fell to the sea on a fishing trip, got lost and was presumed dead before washing ashore 2 days later, he survived 2 types of cancer (the 3rd he didn't, however) and many other accidents accounted for in pictures, newspaper articles and the tales of my grandmother and her children (my mom included).

The day he passed away, I remember coming home from school to find my mother crying at my grandmother's place dinner hall (we lived 2 blocks away). He tells me grandpa has left the building and starts sobbing, urging me to do so if I wanted. Oddly, I was totally aware of the fact he wouldn't be coming back home from the hospital (where he used to go a couple of times a week for treatment), and did not feel the need to cry, weep, sob, mourn or whatever. In fact, I felt my grandfather was with me at the moment, I just hugged my mom and cheered her up saying "Don't worry. I'm sure he'll hang around for a while."

You may argue I was a child with a totally oblivious idea of death, but having had an accident around that time in which I almost bled myself to death, I was quite calm and had another level of understanding about such themes. I knew my grandfather was there and from then on would follow and protect me as a sort of guardian angel.

I remember the old man used to love fishing. Sometimes we got up real early on weekends and went fishing to the beach (I live in a coastal town) for the fun of it. A week after he died, I had this dream of an ideal lake: your typical Eden surrounded by lush forest and wildlife. We (my grandpa and I) were sitting in a boat, fishing rods in hand, silent, enjoying the weather, listening to the waves caress the shore, the faint buzzing of insects roaming by and the occasional squirrel or deer showing up.

As time went by, dark clouds started to show up on the horizon, engulfing color out of the forest itself. Everything turned dark and withered into a lifeless and rotting parody of the lively picture that surrounded us: trees, plants, the fish, the water, all life forms were consumed, almost as if torched from their very inside. I remember I was calm, though I can't recall how somebody would be calm with such visions of death just making their way around me. The eyes of my grandfather turned into a blazing stare, which I'll never forget, he opened his mouth as in a furious roar and then just vanished. We never said a word, but I knew this was his farewell.

Days later, my mother was looking at some pictures of the old man and amidst them I found one of the place I had seen in my dreams. She tells me it used to be a ranch he owned way back before I was born, when she was very young. I had never been there (not even as a baby) but I described it in great detail to her. She just burst into tears and hugged me.

Some years later (I was like 16 or 17, and lived at my grandma's) I had a very peculiar dream:

I was relaxing and pretty much doing nothing besides one of those old classic cars in the street in front of my grandma's. Nearby, resting on the car's back bumper was a rectangular thing which I can only describe as the frame of a mirror. Out of nowhere, a very sick-looking, water like surface appears in the 'mirror'. Think of it as the effect of the paintings in Super Mario 64, but with enhaced water caustics. A single drop of liquid blasts out of the waves in the surface, and floats until it is about a foot away from me. Then a blinding flash of light spans from the drop and my grandfather appears in front of me.

The mirror in my dream.
He looked just as I remembered him: an aged man, half-bald, with a very serene look, his body tanned and more skinny than athletic. However he seemed to be full of life in a way I can't explain. It's like knowing somewhere inside someone's eyes there's a child awaiting to burst into hyper-activity with a sugar rush. He dusted off his clothing and greeted me in a way I felt I was more like a friend of his rather than his relative. Of course by now I knew my jaw was open and I was being severely mindfucked in a dream (imagine that!), but nonetheless I kept my composure and greeted him, asking how was he, telling him how much I missed him and all that jazz. He asked back how was everybody, said he was watching me and was proud of me, that I was doing well and taking care of my sisters and my mother. We chatted about the last years, and I couldn't resist the temptation to ask him where he was and how stuff was going wherever he was.

He says, and I remember vividly, he said 'that place' was like an infinite corridor filled with doors. No matter which door you chose, when you opened it, you could do whatever you wanted, with whoever you wanted and whenever you wanted. I remember he described how he was having a great time horse-riding, taking care of cattle, and spending days playing domino and smoking cigars with his friends (activities I recall where his greatest pleasures in life). There were no limits to what you chose, imagined, or wanted to do. I was amazed by his description, but decided not to ask further.

At some point, he said he had to go back, because he had been granted permission to visit us for the night and his time was about to finish. Once again he sent his regards to the family and two specific messages:
To my mother: he recommended checking herself at the doctor.

To my grandma: he told her she could sell the ranch (times were hard) but he prohibited her from selling the house. He had built it and it would stay in his family forever. No questioning.

As soon as he finished, he waved away and threw himself into the liquid mirror, back into wherever he came from. I saw myself turning around and feeling a breeze in the dream, just as I woke up.

When I woke up, I remembered everything perfectly and pieced all this in my mind as a rather creative and intriguing experience. I was shaving early in the morning when my grandma came around and I decided to tell her everything about the dream. To me it meant nothing, but when I finished I turned around and saw her face distorted into a mix of shock and disbelief. I was more surprised about her expression and asked what was wrong.

"Nothing" she said, "it's just that today is his death's anniversary."

I also delivered the message to my mother. She was confused at first, but guess what. The medical check found a tumor which "fortunately" enough was detected so early on it could be extracted without any risk. She was scared when they first told her, but pulled through and is perfectly healthy now.

I swear I don't know what to think about this, it's been a couple more odd experiences which I will tell another time, but for the time being I trust that somewhere, out there, my guardian angel is enjoying a cigar, watching, proud of his first grandchild. Me.

There was once an old mansion 2 blocks away from my apartment that I use to live in back in San Francisco. Nobody had ever lived in that mansion ever since I can remember. It was still around before I was born. I was around 6 or 7 when I heard that it was haunted but was never really interested in spirits or dark entities at that age.

Yet, I was curious to whether it was true or not. Everyday I would walk by that mansion for about a year or so (Of course, I wouldn't just nilly-willy walk by that mansion without a legitimate reason. I'd walk by to go to the store and other places).

Day and night, alone and with company; I hadn't experienced anything strange. I was still skeptic and by that time of age, I had gotten interested in the paranormal. Though I've wondered why it was never demolished as I got older. As days go by, my dreams were becoming irrational. I kept seeing myself and people murdering other people; friends, families, strangers.

There was this one dream that scared me the most. I had a crush on this boy who was a year younger than me and he was in my dream. ..Well.. nightmare.

I dreamt about a fair that was going on in my school. Students, teachers, and parents were there having fun. I thought I would finally have a "normal" dream but no. I was on a rampage. I was looking for my crush. When I had found him, I told him that I needed to talk to him about something.

I brought him to a parking lot that my school had and told him to get in the car that was in front of us. As he entered the car and close the door, I showed him a small remote and pressed it. I smiled and watched him scream and explode inside the car as his blood splatters on the car window. I proceeded to walk away and acted as if nothing had happened.

I saw my friends and a teacher with a radio listening to the spokes person saying "This just in. A boy was literally bombed to death by an unknown killer in an Elementary school."

I looked concerened and said outloud "Well that's just sad..."

I awoke from that dream, panicking. "Why is this happening?" I thought. I realised that it was 1 A.M and decided to go back to sleep, trying to calm myself.

"It was only just a dream.." I said to myself.

I became hot so I kicked my blankets off of me. And by the time I was nearly asleep, I had felt my blanket being pulled to my face. I woke up immediately and sat up on my bed. I then saw something move at the corner of my eye. I looked at the light underneath my closed door and saw shadows walking. There were no sounds of footsteps. Scared, I covered my body and head with my blanket and had hoped that it was just a dream. It wasn't.

When I woke up, I felt calmer. Strange, I thought. When I walked by that mansion, it was being demolished. The picture below this is what it looks like now. Ever since then, my dreams were becoming a lot less strange.

"It's just a rumour... right?"

A crushing, burning pain spread outwards from my chest as the glimmering stars above me slowly faded into oblivion. I could feel my slowing heart pounding in my ringing ears, and knew that I was dying slowly, painfully. I tried to scream as the darkness folded in, but no air came out. The last thing I saw was shadowy figures creeping back into the dissolving night, leaving me to die. The pain began to fade and I felt myself slide backwards down and down and down into an endless black pit…

I woke up with a start, gasping for air. The bright colors of morning swirled around my vision as I staggered out of my tent, retching. Another dream. Every night I’ve been out in the wilderness has been the same; visions in the night in which I meet my death, only to wake up the next day disoriented and sick. Only indistinct memories tell me that it’s always the same, always the same dream, night after night as I wander the outback: a dark man, a fire, a tree, and something that swings back and forth in the night breeze. And also the leering visage of a face, so strange and yet horribly familiar to me, the few details I can recall sending a chill down my spine…

I sipped my warm coffee as the morning sun lit the grasslands all around me. Today marked the beginning of my second week lost in the wilderness. I had set off to explore the great unknown wastes of the northern Australian outback, hitching a ride to the edge of the great expanse, and then trekking my way inwards for days and days. I had chosen this place for my walkabout because it was an Aboriginal holy land; not that I cared about the spiritual implications of the area, but its sacred status insured that I would not run across anyone. I carried with me only the barest essentials, just enough supplies to survive. I had come to prove to myself that I could survive on my own, with no friends or technology.

And then one day the compass and the map disappeared, and the dreams began. At first I was scared, but soon I realized that I knew enough about the wilderness to survive alone for months. So each day I set off into the horizon, searching for the signs of a civilization I had come to escape.

I scratched my chin and squinted into the sun; what direction, I asked myself, was I going to walk today? All around me was the same grass, the same red dirt, the same blue sky. Any direction I took could lead me closer or further away from rescue. As I stood frozen in indecision, a cold, dark memory of last night flashed into my head:

In my dream I had risen from the ground to see a man peering out of the darkness at me. He was an Aborigine, dressed in the traditional garb of a holy shaman; a dark mask of tree bark covering his face. He thrust his wooden staff at me, reaching around my arms and pulling me outside into the silvery night. He dragged me along behind him, traveling south for miles and miles through the coarse underbrush as a giant harvest moon hung above us like an ornament.

We reached the edge of the grasslands, beyond which only blowing sand covered the ground. Suddenly, the medicine man thrust his arm outwards along the plain, staring deep into my eyes. As he pointed off into the distance a flicker of light began to dance around his dark features. He stared at me, arm outstretched, as flames sprouted from his chest, enveloping his head in a wreath of fire. As his features burned to ash and bone, flames flew down his arm and across his finger, shooting into the depths of the dark desert beyond. The fire spread along the ground, melting the sand into a liquid that cooled and flattened into a shining path. A gust of wind tore at my chest and the ashen corpse of the Aborigine dissolved before my eyes, leaving me stranded at the edge of a glittering trail that curled across the stretches of the desert…

I stood silently as the midday grasshoppers chirped and buzzed around me. The vivid images that had suddenly burst into memory had left me stunned. What did it all mean, the dream of the holy man leading me across the grasslands? I’ve never been one to believe in precognition or fortune telling, but stranded as I was in the featureless outback, I felt compelled to head south, the same direction I was dragged last night by the man in my visions. And so I hiked south for hours and hours, into a burning wilderness seen by few and inhabited by none.

I began to regret my decision as the raging red sun hung low in the sky. I had wasted twelve hours pursuing an impossible vision. I was angry at myself for believing that a dream about a glittering path was some paranormal indication of escape. I cursed as I scanned the horizon for a patch of ground flat enough to set up camp.

And that’s when I saw it…

In the distance a mysterious figure towered over the grass, an arm raised before it, pointing off into the horizon. Pointing south. With my heart hammering I tore across the brush until I stood before the unknown sentinel.

It was just a wooden sculpture; an exquisitely carved Aborigine man, wearing clothes sewn from grasses and leaves. His splintered eyes gazed at me while his outstretched wooden fingers gestured out along red dunes that spilled over the grasslands. As in my dream, he stood at the very edge of the desert.

At the base of the sculpture was a small pile of bones. So, I had stumbled across the native burial grounds.

Before me lay the first sign of man I had seen in days. From the base of the statue a narrow path wound out into the desert. The trail was old, but perhaps, just maybe, it ran back to a highway or even some remote cabin. I glanced at the darkening evening sky once, and then decided that I would continue onwards in the night. If I was lucky, maybe I could find my way out before the moon rose. With a new surge of hope I stepped away from the dried scrub of the Outback and plodded down the path into the gently stirring sands of the Australian desert…

My hope to reach civilization before the moon rose didn’t pan out. It hung above me, transforming the dunes below into a sea of glittering silver as I felt my way along the worn trail. By this time I had passed several more statues, all of them strung out along the path, all of them pointing onwards into the dark night. Their wooden gaze was making me nervous. In the white light of the moon my eyes would play tricks on me; every now and then one of the statues in the distance would seem to move, and as I passed them I couldn’t suppress the thought of them blinking, swiveling their fake eyes to follow my progress across the desolate sands.

That I was intruding on ancient Aborigine burial grounds only exacerbated my fears. White bones, gleaming in the light from the stars above, jutted out of the ground, strewn haphazardly across the old path. Ribs sprouted from the ground like patches of lily stalks and bare skulls grinned at me from their dark hollows. Thousands upon thousands of skeletons littered the ground around me.

As I walked down the hallowed path I felt an overwhelming sense of déjà vu. I realized that I had walked this path before, last night, as I slept:

It was the same then as it was tonight. As I drifted along the path in that graceful movement so prevalent in dreams, I realized that I wasn’t traveling alone. Behind me, a line of people was forming along the trail; they crawled out from under the sand and marched along the path in an endless procession. Their faces were covered by pieces of bark and long robes were thrown over their thin bodies. They passed me wordlessly, some of them stopping long enough to gaze at me from behind the holes in their mask. For hours I walked alongside the mysterious shrouded crowd as the convoy traveled deeper and deeper into the desert. More people joined the group as we walked, the sand on either side of me swirling and boiling as hundreds of bodies dug their way up. After hours of marching the group reached its destination, an impression in the ground where the sand dunes gently sloped downwards. At the very bottom stood a dead tree, its bare windswept branches arcing into the sky. A dark figure hung below one of the thick branches, gently swinging in the cold desert breeze…

I shivered in the warm night. Even if it had just been in a dream, I had been on this path before. As the moon settled beneath the jagged horizon, I knew I was reaching the end of the trail.

It wasn’t long before I came upon the hollow again. One last wooden sentinel stood before me, both of his peeling arms pointing up into the heavens. Behind him and a tangle of buried skeletons the desert dipped into a gentle depression that formed a perfect circle.

And of course, in the center of that circle, stood the tanned bark of that deceased tree…

In a trance I walked down to it. Its thick trunk broke apart into a tangle of branches that spread across the sky, cutting across the shining stars like a thousand shattered splinters. Far out upon its bent and twisted boughs a rope hung down to head height. It was frayed to the point of complete dissolution, when I tugged it a flurry of fibers broke off and drifted away across the night breeze.

I could go no further tonight. The moon was almost below the horizon, only a few scant streaks of silver still peppered the landscape. Soon the desert would be shrouded in complete darkness and I would doubtless lose the trail if I tried to continue. The only thing I could do was sit and wait for dawn. With gloom settling upon my chest I lay down at the base of the trunk, lowering my cap over my eyes…

I was woken by a soft knocking sound. As I raised my cap I saw that the moon had not quite settled. A few rays of light still shot down upon the tree, staining one side white but leaving the other inky black. I heard the knock again. I rounded the broad trunk to see what had disturbed my sleep.

In the scant light I saw a boot floating above the ground; it would swing outwards into the darkness, then arc back and knock against the trunk with a soft “thunk”. As I stood frozen, watching it sway back and forth, I heard another sound, a blubbering, gasping gurgle emanating from above my head. My eyes adjusted to the darkness and I noticed a dark pair of legs attached to the boot. Above that was a torso, and above that a head, tilted away from me, behind which a long rope curled down from the dead branches of the tree and snaked around the man’s neck. Slowly, the body swung back and forth as it hung from the rope. A few final gurgles left its lips. And then, the wind shifted and the body rotated, its face coming into view.

I saw my own lips, stained blue, opening and closing wordlessly, gasping for air. I saw my own bloodshot eyes swivel as rosy bruises swelled around their sockets. Little rivers of blood flowed out of my neck and down over the rope, blooming across my white shirt. I saw myself struggle for breath one last time before my throbbing heart finally beat its last. I gaped as my dead body stared emptily down at me, my discolored lips pulled back into a grotesque smile…

The vision disappeared and I awoke, curled up against the roots of the tree. The moon had set; the land was bathed in complete darkness.

With my heart pounding, I bolted away from the tree and up the steep faces of the sand dunes, piles of ancient bones scattering away beneath my feet. But as I tried to flee they arose, bony hands closing upon my legs, pulling me back down. A hundred cold, dead fingers prodded me, bearing me into the air; a thousand sightless sockets gazed upon me from beyond the veil of night. All around I could hear their gentle clacking and rattling. Above me the thick branches of the hanging tree crossed the stars in the sky. I felt the dead hands lift me up. They placed the rope around my neck, tightening it until it cut into my flesh.

And then the hands let go…

A crushing, burning pain spread outwards from my chest as the glimmering stars above me slowly faded into oblivion. I could feel my slowing heart pounding in my ringing ears, and knew that I was dying slowly, painfully. I tried to scream as the darkness folded in, but no air came out. The last thing I saw was shadowy figures creeping back into the dissolving night, leaving me to die. The pain began to fade and I felt myself slide backwards down and down and down into an endless black pit…

I woke up with a start, gasping for air. The bright colors of morning swirled around my vision as I staggered out of my tent, retching. Another dream. Every night I’ve been out in the wilderness has been the same; visions in the night in which I meet my death, only to wake up the next day disoriented and sick. Only indistinct memories tell me that it’s always the same, always the same dream, night after night as I wander the outback: a dark man, a fire, a tree, and something that swings back and forth in the night breeze. And also the leering visage of a face, so strange and yet horribly familiar to me, the few details I can recall sending a chill down my spine.

Credited to Black Fedora.

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