Shadows..

Every morning I have been waking up in a cold sweat, feeling completely paranoid. As if I were being watched all night. Some nights I wake up at 3am, and I witness a shadow staring at me from my doorway. I can’t make up who it might, but it’s a woman every time. 

Last night was different, usually I wake up and the shadows gone. But last night, as much as I tried to open my eyes because I knew it was a dream… I couldn’t. I could see the shadow every time I tried to open my eyes. 

As minutes passed, my breathing got heavy and I began to panic. My eyes finally opened, and yet the shadow remained. I rubbed my eyes in hopes that it was still a dream, that maybe I was just seeing things because I was still so tired.

But as I looked back at the doorway, the shadow was gone. I stood up slowly trying to be aware of my surroundings, to see if there was anything off about my room… I went to the hallway, where the shadow once stood… I turned the light on and yet there was no evidence of a person being there. I walked over to my bed, and laid down facing my window. 

But there that feeling of being watched remained. I flipped over and faced the doorway once again until I was finally comfortable enough to close my eyes and sleep. 

Was I dreaming? Or was there really someone in my room? In my house?

Terrifying Introduction 

I sat outside the white suburban house, watching as the only light slowly began to fade. I have been sitting here for hours. It’s time. I got out of the car and slowly walked around the house, opening the back door with the weapon of death in hand. I creaked up the stairs, up into her bedroom, its her, her, the most perfect angel. I stood there and watched her sleep, prowling around like a cheetah stalking his prey. I slowly lifted my feet one after another, walking, closer and closer. And with a small dreadful creak of the floor she woke up slowly, in the darkness, I froze, not allowing myself to make a sound; hearing her moving around, and with a sigh she finally stopped and laid there, she can feel my presence, the staring, the watching. My eyes stayed on her, until she finally felt comfortable enough to sleep. I moved in closer, grabbing the blade harder, imagining the screams of fear come from her mouth, the look of terror in her eyes, feeling her life slowly come to an end with each strike of my blade.

Dream or a Memory

A beautiful little girl stared at her reflection in the mirror; she was dressed as if she were a life-sized doll. The ribbons holding up her two pigtails matched the color of her dress and shoes. As she stared back at herself she turned, slowly at the tallest piece of furniture inside her grandmother’s house. She tried to reach the top by jumping as high as she could but she failed over and over again, after a while she finally gave up and began to play with her dolls.

“Mirror, Mirror on the wall, who’s the fairest one of all?” the young girl said as she role-played with her grandmother. “Why you are, my dearest Snow White.” Her grandmother said as she lay on the couch trying not to fall asleep, as her beautiful granddaughter wanted to play.

She sat down playing with her dolls as her grandmother finally fell asleep. Hours went by before she realized she was on the top of the wooden furniture looking down at her dolls lying there. How did I get up here, she thought to herself.

She looked over the edge trying to figure out how to get down in order to play with her dolls once more. All of a sudden she felt a push, a push as she was looking over the edge, as her screams filled the silence of her grandmothers home, she fell, faster and faster. Yet as she put her small gentle arms in front of her, the fall felt hours long, no matter how close she thought she was to the ground, she never seemed to land. The young girl opened her eyes to find herself on the floor of her bedroom, had she been dreaming this whole time?

Every year since the young girl was twelve, until the point of her twenty-fourth birthday, this dream was consistent. Since the year that her grandmother had gone back home for good was the year that the dream lived on, day after day, the girl woke up in a panic, her screams woke her parents once every year. Although they tried to calm her they couldn’t, although they told her it was a dream, it felt real. Years passed making that once vivid dream feel like a memory, or was it always a memory?