Don't Go To Sleep...Little Girl!

The beginning of a tweens string of hauntings in the dead of the night. Mysterious occurences, that are hard to explain. To strange to reveal to anyone.

 

 

Night Sweats

 

1

 

 

 Don’t Go To Sleep…Little Girl!

 

I was lying in my bed sleeping.  Sleep always came to me as fast as my head hit the pillow.  My room was dark, pitch black in fact.  I’ve never been able to sleep with a radio on or any sounds playing.  But even in the winter I slept with the ceiling fan on, it was a comfort to me.  I’d lived in this ranch house with my parents since I was three years old.  I felt safe as could be in my twin size captain’s bed. 

First thing I would do as I turned in around ten in the evening, would be to listen to the roar of the train blowing full speed ahead.  The tracks were several blocks away in my sleepy small town.  That old horn was always a comfort to me, whenever I heard it sound.  I can feel myself sigh, just recalling the experience.

Next I would mentally say my prayers to God.  I would first say ones for my Mom, my Dad and my little brother Don, then my grandparents, my choice friends, and my choice cousins.  I would then pray for a new bike, a new pair of skates, and a chance to go to Hawaii this summer and to get my first kiss very soon from Will Tollman.  I can feel my heart flip with this last prayer.  If only!

My Grandmother’s handmade pastel patchwork quilt of the wedding ring style was wrapped snuggly around me, as I slept in my satin pink night gown and in my white tennis socks. My cool satin sheets kept me from getting too hot also.  But because they were often slippery, sometimes I would slip out of the bed when my sleep was restless.

My extra pillow was always a comfort for me to hold onto lightly as I slept on my stomach.  As I ponder about that night, I remember actually hearing myself snore.  Suddenly, my entire world of sleep changed in a split second that night.  

When I felt something heavy and forceful hold me down against my will. As I struggle, kicking my arms and legs violently as hard as I could.  But the might of this strange being was so strong I could hardly move at all and no sound could come out of my mouth. 

My heart was racing.  My head was shoved into a pillow, so only blackness could I see. But tears flooded my eyes. I felt warm urine leave my body from this evil jolt.

What the hell? It slowly felt of my butt, my back, my shoulders and reached around to grab my breasts too.  This was my first time to ever be touched like that, in such private places. I had never even desired to peek over that picket fence. 

Then it just disappeared without a sound. It seemed to float away, along with my sense of security in the dead of the night.

 

Reviews

[Wolfwind Words]

Woh...My first question would be if this is a work of fiction or a factual recounting of an unexplainable encounter?
The pace of the chapter or scene is fast and flows quickly to the climactic ending. The last line sums up the scene with a resound and solid emotional punch.

It was well written throughout. You're use of discription paints the scene vividly as well as takes us on the emotional path that this character goes on.

Good Ink!
Hugs!
Wolfie

[Alicante lullaby]

dark...i'm looking forward to next chapters.

[tynamite]

"Woh...My first question would be if this is a work of fiction or a factual recounting of an unexplainable encounter?"
That's a bit forward asking that. Just because a story refers to family members in a personal way doesn't make it factual. I wouldn't ask as I wouldn't expect an truthful answer if it had happened so why ask?

Where is this story going? You need to post chapter 2.

[Eagle Cruagh]

Who dares to expain the meaning , the
symbolism of our dreams. The fact that
you are dreaming such wild, suggestive and
almost demonic fantasies indicates some,
perhaps many unresolved conflicts in your
thoughts and play.
The story is well played out, drawing the
reader deep into your subconscious, sucking
the reader deep into that subterranean place
where thoughts originate and in our sleep become
painted over and distorted.

The writer shows a gift for story telling and makes
even a dream become real , so the reader slides
in beside the writer to become a part of the
scenario.

Great writing, great story.

----- Eagle Cruagh