Sleep Horror

The vagaries of a compulsive, obsessive and disturbed mind.

Dad was reading the newspaper and I was painting red and yellow theatre faces on the wall next to him. There was a crow cawing somewhere and dad kept flapping back the newspaper page that was coming alive under the fan intermittently. I noticed on an area that I had not painted, there now was a small palm sized painting of red and yellow happy and sad theatre faces except these were different than mine, they were a different red and a different yellow in colour. I had never seen them there.

“Dad, did you make this when you were younger?” I asked with a smile

“Make what?”

“This one, this face pair”

Dad looked at me puzzled and after some thought said “Can’t you see I am reading, really you could find a better time”

“No I’m serious dad who made this?”

“Made what?”

“The faces! This one. The one with the red and yellow on the left”

“What is wrong with you? You’ve been painting those yourself!”

“Yes but no THIS ONE, with the red and the…”

“The yellow on the left and the red on the right with theatre faces yes bloody hell, stop bothering me”

I was confused, puzzled. I turned back to the wall and saw a fresh line of faces in a different shade of red and yellow. My throat began to choke up.

“Dad please look, please! Who made these? Tell me please!” I pleaded, my head swimming and numb. My father looked at me very bothered.

“There’s nothing there Guch now keep quiet and do not bother me.”

I stared at him. All I could hear was my heart. I sat there motionless as the walls filled up with these new mutant faces, and the room darkened, perhaps only for me.

I wake up with a start and my heart racing, my forehead covered in sweat. It is going to be a long night.

Shoulders above I am numb, feet cold, the invisible tuning fork near my ear creates the silence and makes it deafening. He is coming for me. Who is he, I do not know. Have I ever seen him? Negative. All I know is that he is a shadow, and he will kill me.

Half an hour passes like a day, my eyes feel stretched and my stomach feels like I have been hung like a towel on a rod. I slowly try to accustom myself to the house. The fan is my white noise and I struggle to hear above it to any extra-terrestrial noises that may alert me of his coming.

“Don’t close your eyes! Don’t close your eyes! Don’t close your eyes!” I tell myself at first. The night is thick now. I wonder whether the religious teachings are right about the fact that man’s greatest haunting is his conscience. Perhaps I should try to sleep. I close my eyes and my imaginations bellows to project images of gnarled faces smiling, of teeth covered in blood and eyes….evil eyes. Images of my dead parents with blood everywhere. My eyes snap open and as I sweat profusely I let my saviour take over as my hand moves to my neck and I pinch myself hard four times. I try hard to bury my nails so that I bleed but the pain is too frightening, so I stop. I start counting obsessively till four. Stop, repeat, stop repeat. Let my obsession, my God, renew my faith that I will be okay.

I know somehow that they are in the room. They are all around me. Looking at me and waiting for me to fall asleep so they can slit my throat and then it is all over, it is oblivion, I am nothing but darkness and nothing discreet, a non-entity. My neck feels cold and exposed as if an icy hand will be placed upon it soon.

I paralyze with fear as a scream rips through the silence. Intermittent screams of a woman on the road probably a mentally ill woman, hopefully a mentally ill woman. I picture her as she is raped, or beaten or burnt to death. Shake the thought out.

My hearing heightens as I strain to hear the door creak in the far end of the hallway. Impossible, I think to myself. No one went to the toilet, I saw no one. It is him then. 45 seconds pass before I notice with dread, my bedroom door creaking open ever so slightly. I stare hard at it, and wait for the invisible black shadow to come. It doesn’t.

My body feels a cold touch down my spine. My neck is caressed by the tips of sharp objects waiting to pierce skin and bone, my legs lay limp as invisible plasma crawls up and my stomach is the only part of me that reminds me what is real. I am suspended in this fugue state only here, I am unable to distinguish the real from the unreal. Darkness and light merge and preternatural is natural as my imagination slowly wrecks my insides physically, because it is not a bad conscience, but an unnamed fear of the same, a fear that harm will come to you, even with your unnamed Gods. I have not wronged, but I am vulnerable I am weak, I need to stay alive and for that I trust no one, not even God.

 

 

 

TO ALL THOSE WHO FIGHT FEARS OF THE MIND EVERYDAY, YOU ARE THE STRONGEST.

Reviews

[Roland Petrov]

Something akin to the nightmares I had as a young boy. Someone (whom I never saw) would be entering my bedroom, and I'd be paralyzed. I particularly like how you implore God, only to have Him end up in the category of the untrustworthy! Interestingly, it was when I realized that there was very little truth to be found in religion that I began sleeping much more peacefully. Or was it when I started drinking wine before going to bed? Hmm, not sure now.

[Lee Bakes]

Haha! Thank you Roland for your feedback! Its really overwhelmingly comforting to know that I am not the only one in this position! Your so spot on about the unseen figure! I do face sleep paralysis even now at times! Im glad you understand the piece for what it is, which is purely human and nothing supernatural at all. Also, maybe if you stuck with your wine theory, it would at least be a more comforting one haha!

[Lee Bakes]

Also, if I may ask: could you please share what you mean by "it was when I realized that there was very little truth to be found in religion that I began sleeping much more peacefully". Inbox me if necessary, but I would like to discuss this. Maybe it will be helpful.

[Diane]

This is good. Had no issue keeping my eyes on this. Gave me the chills!

[Lee Bakes]

Thank you Diane :)

[Cherrie]

As a Steven King feel to it, good fireside story

[Lee Bakes]

Wow Cherrie! thank you! you are the second person to say that :) I love his work!

[Jacob Clifford]

I'm not quite sure how it's taken me this long to read something of yours, but here I am! This is an interesting story, not at all typical or expected. Someone in this position needs a very cautious mind.

[Lee Bakes]

Indeed!! It is not a story per se, just a description of the things I feel at times. Also im glad you read this! I was on vacation the past few days and now will be re joining my work so there has been no time to write,will have to get back to it asap.

[mattavelli]

Hello, Lee, I enjoyed this story. I think many people on this site will enjoy it. Your imagination can wrap you up and trap you. Be careful. 😛

[Lee Bakes]

Indeed, which is why I never read this before bedtime! thanks for the feedback Mattavelli I am glad you liked it.
Lee :)

[alanwgraham]

Very well done - all sorts of horrors take over when you are in this in between state. I am not a good sleeper (for my sins!) so i can identify completely!
You might like to look at my poem 'Henry moore - shapeshifter' I wrote it when i was a bit manic so it is quite different from most of my 'normal' work. Not everyone gets it!
Thanks,
Alan

[Lee Bakes]

yes! glad you could identify with it. Its precisely as you describe it,an in between state.

[. serah .]

-- this post reminds me of the time when i had a lucid dreaming issue for almost nine months at a stretch... and i'd see the same nightmare (with minor variations) every day... -- it was about being shot in the head... and my final thoughts before i died... -- i would feel very weak when i woke up in the morning... like i hadn't slept at all... and in time i realized that resilience is about accepting those days when one is not resilient... -- so, i'd say that this is excellent work... it captures the essence of some of the things one goes through when one is experiencing severe trauma...

[Lee Bakes]

Thank you serah, it means a lot to me that you could relate to this. Also this is something that happened and still happens to me. (although less frequently now touch wood) and i always found it so hard to share because no one else seemed to feel it was legitimate, so i decided to write it all down to the last goosebump! Come to think of it I was not in a good place emotionally then, thanks a lot for stopping by.

[. serah .]

-- you're very welcome... this is a symptom of PTSD... (post traumatic stress disorder) and a lot of people go through it when they have to deal with some kind of trauma and/or emotional crisis... -- the subconscious mind speaks in lucid dreams and expresses its pain and/or fears...

[Lee Bakes]

well, then stress and the subconscious can really cook up storms i guess :P

[. serah .]

-- yeah... and some people are not able to survive those storms... -- while the name of the ailment has the word 'stress' in it, it includes all kinds of trauma... such as the trauma caused by natural disasters, abuse, rape, terrorism... or it could simply be trauma caused by academic pressure, pressure at the work place... and so on...

[zahidarizvi]

A short story with good description and with a message passed across,insightful piece.

[Lee Bakes]

Thank you! :)

[skyler]

why theatre faces. I think you should explain the monster more.

[Lee Bakes]

well, there wasnt quite any reason, i had this as a dream one night. Honestly, it was a symbol if nothing else. Also, not sure if there is a monster as such because I was aiming at showing how your mind plays tricks on you, but I see your point. Thanks a bunch for the feedback Skyler! :) :)