Tag Archives: sleep

Routine

YouTube Horror Narrator Noah J. was so kind to narrate this story. Now you can listen while you read:

A quick glance under the desk. Throw the wardrobe open. Push clothes aside to make sure there is no one inside. Close the wardrobe. Step into the middle of the room. Breathe. Quickly bend and kneel forward, your hands on the ground, ready to push you back up as fast as possible. Check under the bed.

No one there. As every night.

Get back up. Walk towards the light switch. Look around the room another time, the eyes resting for a few seconds on each window. Second floor, but who knows what can climb that high?

Nothing suspicious. Mentally pace the room – two steps, then the jump.

Flip the switch. Large step with the right, large step with the left, then a quick jump to escape any possible hands.

Climb under the covers. Cocoon yourself. Try to sleep. Try not to have nightmares. Continue reading

Why won’t you let me out? // Journal of Patient C.14, Entry #1

It was pulling her hair and she scratched her head, but she didn’t look. She didn’t believe me when I told her. I’m sorry, I really am. She just would have needed to look and it would have gone away. I didn’t want to hurt her, okay?

I need to get out. It can get in here. It always comes in when I look away. I need to look or it will come close. It can’t get close.

WHY WON’T YOU LET ME OUT?

Doc, PLEASE LEAVE THE LIGHT ON. Why do you always turn it off? I know you say this is just for me as therapy and secret, but I know you will read it. I know you will. Please, please, PLEASE leave the lights on, okay? Continue reading

Five Days. Five Nights.

Noah J. was so kind to narrate this story. You can listen and read along:

This story was also translated to Polish.


The first four days Lachlan had been excited. The fifth day, that Friday that he came back from primary school with dirt on his knees, he was not excited. He was euphoric.

I was in my office, writing the final formulaic words of another research proposal.

“Daaad!”

“Hey!”

“Dad! Dad! Dad!”

“Oh wow, someone is happy. Enjoyed school?”

“School is awesome!”

“That’s great!”

“And I have loads of friends!”

“Of course you do.”

“Look!”

He stretched his small, dirty hand towards me.

“You cut yourself?”

“No.”

“That looks like a cut.”

“It’s a talesman.” Continue reading

Bugs

The first thing that people used to ask about were the bugs.

“I’m really sorry for that. I was born without a sense of smell.”

“Oh,” they always said. “But don’t you notice the bugs?”

The bugs. Everywhere. Of course I saw them, the way they followed me. Flies, mostly, but many others too.

It’s not that I didn’t want to shower. My mother too made me shower every day, she just never explained why. Nobody told me why. They all assumed I knew and rather than tell me that I smelled bad and how to fix it, they concluded that I was handicapped and thus just stupid or dirty or crazy.

In 22 years nobody told me that. For 22 years everybody assumed I was scary and creepy and stayed away from me. Continue reading

Nightmare till Death

Trigger warning


They just came, without question, every night – as if they had always been there. I don’t remember when the nightmares started.

My daily life was normal, average, boring. I went to school. I learned pointless things about the world and the past world. I had friends that I met after school. But I dreaded the nights.

The nights were always the same. Someone slapping me; cutting me; pulling me up on my arms until my muscles started to scream in pain; raped me.

Those nights, the more I think back the longer they seem to go back. The nightmares were just always there, just like my normal life was. The nightmares, filled with nothing except pain and fear and sometimes a TV running in the background. Continue reading

Life in the Mirror

The apartment seemed as if it was made just for me. I had a bed and two shelves. The apartment lacked bed and shelves but had everything else – tables, chairs, a sofa. My bed was exactly 1.6 meters in width – and the tiny bedroom a perfect match.

There were two things I didn’t like. The first, of course, was the lack of a dedicated bathroom. The shower cabin was in the kitchen and the toilet in a small room off the balcony. The second thing I didn’t like was the mirror in the bedroom.

It’s not that I don’t like mirrors. But in a room just barely big enough for the bed, with walls to all sides, there was something disturbing in having one of the walls as just one large mirror. It felt misplaced and odd like a lone, smiling stranger standing in the middle of a desert road.

The first night I was tired from the move, every muscle in my body seemed to be aching and my body was still sticky and sweating even after two showers and four hours since the last box. Still I first lay awake for two or three hours, rolling from one side to the other and hoping for the salvation of sleep. Continue reading