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  • Writer's pictureJeff Bacon

Sweet Dreams

I had finally found a house I could afford. It was a small house at the end of a dead-end street. The movers filled my home with all my possessions. I was tired and looked forward to my first night of sleep in my new domain.

I woke to a screeching sound coming from the corner of my bedroom. My body paralyzed, only my eyes would open. My breathing became shallow as a dark shadow ran its fingers across my face. The cold air rushed across my body. It became harder and harder to breathe. I heard the screech again as my body moved once again. I sat up in bed; the apparition had left.

I didn’t believe in the boogeyman, ghosts, or anything else that goes bump in the night. It had to be something in my subconscious that was triggered by being alone in that house. I made an appointment with a psychiatrist. He did nothing except prescribe some sleeping pills and schedule another appointment.

I took the pills that night. I fell into a deep sleep, but the dark stranger woke me to terrorize me once again. The pills didn’t work, so I made another plan. I needed to move out of the house as soon as possible. I bought boxes and packed all my belongings and waited for the movers. I had secured an apartment, all I had to do was stay awake for forty-eight hours.

I had finished packing. The only thing left in the living room was my couch. I sat as I looked at my watch. The movers would be here in six hours. I laid my head back for only a moment, but it was enough to fall to sleep.

My eyes opened to see the black shadow man. He wore a hat and had what looked like a cane in his hand. He prodded my chest with his cane. I couldn’t move to stop him.

The shadow man spoke. “He is ready.”

The door opened as another man entered my home. He took a backpack and set it on the floor. The shadow man moved my head so I could see what he was doing. The other man looked normal as he unpacked a drill, a few knives, a bone saw, and tin snips. I couldn’t move or scream as he snipped the fingers from my hand. He pulled out a blow torch and cauterized the wounds, then moved to my feet.

The shadow man laughed as the other removed my limbs, piece by piece. I could feel everything until he plunged the knife into my chest. That is when I lost my sight. Everything went black. I could still hear the bones cracking as he spread my ribs and ripped my heart out. There seemed to be several stages of my death. The last two senses I had left were hearing and feeling. The last thing I heard was the drill entering my ear.

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