The First Nightmare
The young girl waited patiently as her best friend inserted the DVD.
“This movie messed me up.” her friend exaggerated.
“I’m sure I’ll be fine,” the girl reassured her friend with a smile.
“Alright, but be ready for nightmares,” her friend teased.
Nightmares…
The sound of yelling echoed through the little girl’s ears. She could hear a man and a woman’s voice. Muffled arguments that went back and forth came through the small crack under the door where the living room light shone. She could never tell how long they lasted, but it would always eventually stop, leaving only silence in the darkened room. Immediately after the voices quieted, the little girl would silently be lulled back to sleep.
“You’re staying at your grandparents’ house for the weekend while your mom and I…sort some things out alright?” her dad told her with a soft smile.
The five-year-old gave him a thumbs up and returned a smile as he buckled her into the car seat, unaware of what was happening. I mean, how could a five-year-old understand? But the mind always finds a way to explain.
That night, the small child tossed and turned in her bed. Her heartbeat increasing and pulse racing. She remembered running, but from what? She turned her head to look back, but a voice snapped at her.
“Keep running! Don’t stop!” the voice screamed at her.
She didn’t argue. How could a five-year-old argue with her own mind? She kept sprinting from fear of whatever was chasing her until she eventually woke herself up with a start. With adrenaline coursing through her, she frantically looked around. The young girl was never afraid of the dark until that moment. The darkness suffocated to her and the fear of the unknown crept over her tiny body. She screamed and called out for her parents. However, it was her grandmother that entered the room and found the child in a puddle of tears.
“What’s wrong?” her grandmother repeatedly asked as she tried to soothe her.
The girl shook her head at her grandmother and yelled, “I want my dad! I want my mom!”
The girl continued to sob until her tears ran dry and she was left utterly exhausted.
Her grandmother eventually left the room and the girl was once again left in the dark. A few moments later, she could hear the crystal clear voice of her grandmother in the kitchen.
“Your daughter just had her first nightmare and where were you?” she said.
“Nightmare,” the girl mouthed to herself. She stopped listening to the conversation after that. She had hoped that it was only a one-time thing, but it was only the beginning.
A week later, the young girl was sobbing once again, frantically clutching her mother’s right leg.
“Please don’t leave. Please don’t leave.” The girl repeated over and over again.
Her mother said nothing, even when the girl’s dad intervened and pulled the child away. And without a single word, her mother walked out the door. Leaving both a heartbroken father and child.
That night the girl laid in bed in darkness and silence. No more arguments and no light. It should have been easier to sleep, but to her, it was only a reminder that there was one less person in her home. Those thoughts played in her mind as she slowly drifted into sleep.
She saw her mother. A door behind her. She couldn’t move and watched paralyzed as her mother put her hand on the doorknob and twisted.
She yelled, “Mom, don’t leave!”
Her mother never responded as she slowly opened the door and left. It was only when she closed the door, that the girl realized she could move. She sprinted towards the wall and reached for the knob only to have it elude her small grasp. Every time she tried to hold onto the knob, it was as if it passed right through her hand. Given up, she banged her tiny fists on the door repeatedly calling out for her mom to return.
She continued until the hard wall began to turn soft and she slowly opened her eyes. She sat, twisted in blankets and tear stained pillows. Her dad sat at the edge of the bed rubbing her back trying to calm her down and waited until her breathing evened out. Once, the fear of her nightmare left her mind, her dad got up and walked back to his room.
As her dad entered the threshold, she spoke up, “Keep the door open.”
Her dad paused for a moment, then moved the door so it was halfway open. He gave her a thumbs up and continued out the door. Leaving her feeling more comfortable, however, the nightmares never stopped.
They slowly escalated invoking fear, anxiety, or sadness. She eventually was able to control her voice and struggles to not wake her dad up at night, but the nightmares would change and morph into something new almost every night. When she dreamt about something grabbing her in her sleep, she would ask her dad to check under the bed. When she dreamt eyes watching her from her closet, she would tell her dad to always keep the closet closed. When she dreamt she saw shadows moving in the darkness, she told her dad to buy multiple nightlights and glow-in-the-dark stars. But they never stopped.
It came to a point where she would resist sleep. Her dad once caught her in the living room watching TV at midnight.
“What are you doing?” he asked curiously. “Aren’t you tired?”
“I’m fine,” she said with a yawn. “I’m not tired.”
“You need to sleep, buddy,” her father walked over, turned off the TV, and picked up the exhausted child.
Without protest, she let him settle her into her bed, but not without her checklist. He looked to the outlet to make sure the corner of the room was illuminated, walked to the closet to make sure it was closed, and knelt down to check under her bed. The little girl nodded in approval as she closed her eyes and drifted off into another nightmare.
The next week, her dad once again caught her in the living room past midnight. Her eyes were straining to stay open, but she was determined to stay awake.
“Why are you awake?” he asked.
“I don’t wanna sleep,” she said.
“Why not?” his eyebrows scrunched up as he sat next to her in front of the TV screen.
“I don’t like to sleep because the nightmares scare me.”
His eyes widened slightly, “You’re stilling having nightmares?”
She nodded slowly.
“What happens in the nightmares?” he asked.
She shrugged, “Monsters.”
Her dad said nothing, as the realization hit him when he thought about his daughter’s nighttime checklist.
“Well, you know what to do when you’re scared though right?”
The girl quickly looked at him with wide eyes, “What do I do?”
“Easy. You punch them.”
The girl huffed and looked back at the TV screen.
“I’m serious,” her dad insisted. “You tell them ‘I’m not afraid’ and then give them a good punch in the nose.”
“But what if they don’t have a nose?” she retorted.
“Then you just punch.” Her dad gave her a serious look.
“Okay, but what if that still doesn’t work?”
“Then you blink.”
“I-what?” she said.
“You blink. Like this.” Her dad shut his eyes so tightly, wrinkles formed at the sides of his eyes. Then after a second, he opened them again widely.
“What’s that supposed to do?” she scoffed.
“It’ll wake you up. If you really feel scared, you can wake up quickly and realize that it’s just a dream. It can’t hurt you.”
She hesitated for a moment, but sighed, “Okay.”
With that, her father shut off the TV and lead her to her room. She laid in bed and willingly drifted into sleep, entering whatever nightmare was waiting for her.
She was running away from some unknown creature. Again. She never knew how long she ran but knew she had to keep going lest she wanted the monster to catch her. She could always feel the monster’s breath as if it was right behind her. But even though the girl has never actually seen the creature chasing her, she was going to change that. Now. For the first time since the nightmares began, she stopped running. Her tiny hand balled into a fist, and slowly, with her eyes closed, she turned. Her small frame trembled in fear of what stood before her, but with a shaky arm, she swung her fist in front of her, wincing with the expectation of it to make an impact. But it never came. She felt…nothing. Timidly she opened her eyes to find the spot empty. She spun around looking for the creature but was left with nothing. Despite no sign of a threat, she continued to tremble.
“Just blink,” she told herself.
She took a deep breath and shut her eyes tightly before opening them again. She still found herself alone in the darkness, so she tried again. She shut her eyes tight once more before opening again, and as she did, she found herself staring at the glowing stars that littered her ceiling. And then, for the first time in a long time, she smiled.
…
“Alright, but be ready for nightmares.” her friend teased.
“Nightmares?” the girl scoffed. “Bring it.”
Countdown
Five miles out into the woods
Distancing myself from the neighborhoods
Blood drips down, warm and wet
My hands grips the knife with no regret
Four limbs tied, no way to flee
I silently watch underneath a tree
The lake holds a calm atmosphere
As I wait for the bubbles to disappear
Three large cases of gasoline
A single match to make them scream
Light and warmth form a lovely display
But I've already turned to walk away
Two eyes shut close and their body goes slack
My hands leave their throat, retracting back
I walk out into the darkened night
My, my they put up quite the fight
One bullet, one shot for me to use
It's a game I play and I never lose
The trigger is pulled between his eyes
Another victim before the sunrise
Zero are left, there are none
Now all that is left is for me to run
I can feel my lips form a sickening grin
Time to go, let the games begin
The Grave Digger
I wait in the darkness of the graveyard. The only source of light coming from the moon. A cold breeze sweeps through, carrying dried leaves along with it. The grass I stand on is moist, and my boots slightly sink into the ground with every step. I rip my backpack on the ground and wait longer. This power is not easily used and takes concentration. I look to the floor and think of all the things I could do.
I could bring back loved ones if I desired.
I could raise an army if I wanted to.
I could start my own apocalypse if I wished it.
The deceased would do my bidding.
I felt a shiver go up my spine as I thought of these malicious deeds. I could go mad with power, but that is not why I am here. I have a much better plan tonight. Reaching into my bag, I pull out a spiral notebook and a pencil. I could feel a presence come as a surge of power flowed through me. A figure made out of light emerged from the grass, and floated upward. It was a mere few feet away from me.
I called to the figure, "William Shakespeare, I need your help."
In a disembodied voice, he replied, "What is thy request?"
I formed a twisted smile and replied, "I have a Romeo and Juliet essay due tomorrow and have a few questions."