«Paranoia»
(I find it kind of funny, I find it kind of sad…)
They're coming again. You can hear their footsteps in the shadows. It's only a matter of time before they're on you. You quicken your pace; it's not that you're afraid to fight them; it's that you're tired of fighting. It's a deadly dance with repetitive steps, and you know it's only a matter of time before you stumble and miss, ending up on the receiving end of their weapons and claws. It's not something you like to think about.
You've reached a dimly lit street, and they're still following you. Only now, they're walking faster, their footsteps slapping the pavement. They don't care about stealth now—they know you're aware of them. You know, deep down, that's what they want. They live off of your paranoia. You've unconsciously begun a pattern—they quicken their pace, you quicken yours. On and on it goes until finally, you're running. You run and run, panting as your lungs scream and beg for air. You can hear them racing after you, their footsteps thundering heavily after you. You run until you come to a red brick alley leading in a dead end. As you whirl around to fight, you draw your weapon. There is nothing there. You wake up, sweating and terrified.
The dream repeats for several nights, each time a little different. On the third night, the streetlights remain unlit, but you have a flashlight. It flickers as you run, and over their thunderous footsteps, you can hear your heart pounding in your ears. You come to the same alley, the same dead end. You draw your weapon,. prepared to finally put an end to this madness. There's nothing there but the wind, blowing leaves and scattered papers across the alley. You listen as the papers scuttle across the silent street, and you can swear that you can hear them giggling. You wake up, sheets tangling around you in a messy heap, and you can still hear their horrible, haunting high-pitched giggle ring in your ears. You spend the rest of that night checking and rechecking the lights in your apartment, turning them on and off, on and off, until the sun rises and you have to leave for work.
The fifth night comes, and you swear you are not going to fall asleep. Midnight creeps upon you, and your eyes begin to grow heavy, sleep offering you a warm embrace. You shrug it off, and make a pot of coffee. You make it to your fourth cup before you give in to the comforts of sleep, the need for it overcoming your caffeine intake. You find yourself walking down a different street this time. The streetlights are lit, and the cars parked along the way cast eerie shadows on the ground. You continue to walk, thinking that maybe this time, things will be different. Out of the corner of your eye, you see something moving, slithering across the ground among the shadows. You break out into a run, not knowing where you're going, just running. Suddenly, everything's familiar, and you find yourself facing the brick wall of the familiar old dead-end. Turning around, you reach for your weapon. It's not there, and as usual, the alley is empty and silent. You spend the remaining night hours lying there, gun in hand, listening to the ticking of the clock and praying for daylight.
Night seven comes, and you're past your breaking point. You can't stand being in your apartment. They could come for you at anytime if you fall asleep, so you decide to go for a walk. If you're moving, then you can't fall asleep. The cool autumn wind blows softly, and the leaves dance as they swirl about. The streetlights flicker softly as you walk between the rows of parked cars, and the little voice in your head is whispering warnings of danger ahead. There's a feeling in your stomach, a bad one, and you realize as horror spreads its claws through your body, that this is the street from your dreams.
There's a rustling sound, and you recognize it as the sound of leaves being stepped on. In your childhood, you spent the autumn days raking leaves with your father, spending hours making huge piles just so you and he could jump and stomp through them. The sound they had made as your body landed on them was the exact same sound you were hearing now. You walk a little faster, and their footsteps become clearer as they're forced to leave the leaf-covered sidewalk behind and walk on the paved road. Their footsteps echo, sounding as if they are right behind you. You walk faster, so do they. Pretty soon you're running, and they're right behind you, their steps thundering in your ears. It's just like the first dream, you think, and you're praying that it ends the same way, too. On and on you run, until you're out of breath and about to faint. You turn, and it's "Hello familiar old dead-end bricked alley." You're facing the final wall; there's no turning back now. You turn around, reaching for your weapon, knowing that it's pointless because they'll be gone. Your weapon's gone, and you mentally kick yourself for leaving it back home. Oh well, you think. No worries. You prepare to walk home, when you hear a giggle and something wet drips on your shoulder. It's too heavy to be water and has a funny odor to it; out of curiosity, you tilt your head back, peering up into the darkness. Yellow slanted eyes glare back at you, and unable to move, it's all you can do to scream as they crawl down the buildings' walls, their arms outstretched and hands reaching for your neck. You scream and scream and scream and…
Your alarm clock goes off, and you wake up, still screaming, but happy to see the sunrise all the same.
(the dreams in which I'm dying are the best I've ever had…)
disclaimer:"♪ I find it kind of funny, I find it kind of sad. The dreams in which I'm dying are the best I've ever had… ♪" are lyrics from the song, "Mad World" by Gary Jules. Kingdom Hearts © Squeenix & Disney.
author's notes: written for the prompts – sleep, paranoia, nightmare. I hope I did them justice and this isn't too confusing. Originally, I had it planned to end on the seventh night with the character dying, but opted not to.
this one's for: nicole & josh