Categories > Original > Horror > Alptraum
Alptraum
By I.B.Tryster
/Don't read before bed.../
+++
I've been here before. Walking down the dark hall, I am alone beside myself. Continuous panels of mirrors line the walls, reflecting my image back hundreds upon hundreds of times, pale and lifeless in the darkness.
I know this place. I know my nightmares, and I know what will happen, but I never remember. There is someone...someone here who wants me. Who has always wanted me and follows me, never leaving me alone. Please! Just leave me alone!
I run and run down the hall, trying to see who is following me but at the same time, never wanting to know. My breathing is harsh and my heartbeat pounds in my ears, drowning everything else out. I can't hear. I can only see myself. There's a shadow behind me, following. Always following. I can't let it catch me, not yet...not yet.
My feet are splashing in something. The floor is covered in water. No, it's blood. Blood is all around me, dripping from the mirrors and seeping on the floor. My heart beat is speeding up, erratic and so fast. My chest hurts. I can hardly see my reflections anymore, I'm running so fast. Always running. /Don't stop!/
"Ring around the rosies..."
I sob. It's that voice now. That voice, a little girl's voice, haunted and echoing, faint but loud enough that it drowns out my breathing and my heart.
"Pocket full of posies..."
My legs ach and my chest burns, but I don't stop. I cant, my mind won't let me. I am forever running away, not matter if my heart gives way or if my lungs burst, I will never stop running. My heat beat is a continuous throbbing beat, my panting is almost enough to drown out the voice, but who can silence their own consciousness?
A chasm appears before me. At last! It's nearly over, I'm almost free. But no, there is something different. There is someone above it, a pale glowing light surrounding a porcelain dolls body. Black hair flows like blood down over the pristine dress. The girl is not facing me. But she is the singer. She has to be. What does this mean?! Will I finally know the reasons for this dream, this nightmare? I want to slow down; I'm supposed to slow down before the chasm. But I can't. I won't. Why can't I stop??
"Laughing, laughing..."
My shadow is closer. So close! Why is it so close?! I can't stop now; I can't let it get me. I'll fall into the chasm! Maybe then it will all end...
I speed up. The blood splashing up from my feet has soaked nearly my whole body; flecks of red stain my vision as the dark hole grows closer, and closer.
But so does my shadow, my follower. He is right behind me. Too close!
"We all fall..."
The mirrors shatter into thousands of pieces as I jump into the chasm. I don't see as the childlike singer turns and looks down at me, but some how I know that she sees me. And she screams.
"...DOWN!"
I'm falling. Finally I'm there, and I revel in my bliss that I've finally beaten my dream, I've made it and I'm safe, you can't scare me anymore! But then I stop. My eyes widen. I'm not falling...?
I look up and my eyes widen further. /No/... I've been caught. I almost made it, and I am caught. And finally I see the face of my shadow, my follower, the one I've never wanted to see.
It's me.
I smiled a sickening grin down at myself, watching as my mouth opens in a silent scream. I pull myself up, setting myself firmly on my feet and I brush myself off, ignoring my shocked and horrified expression. Then I lean in close, wrapping my arms around myself in a mocking hug, and I whisper. "Caught me..." And then, without giving myself time to scream, I close my mouth over my self's and we shatter.
+++
I shriek and shoot out of bed, so fast I fall to the floor. Still I scream, screaming nonstop until I finally realize where I am. I'm awake, on my floor, and my head hurts. Ouch, must've hit it when I fell off my bed. I laugh breathlessly, hysterically, breathing in harsh pants as I curl up next to my dresser, hiding from the shadows in my room.
Slowly, oh so slowly, I calm down, my fearful eyes looking less and less like a wild animal's. And I realize something is wrong. My sister should have been here. I regularly wake up screaming from my nightmares, and she was always there in seconds, soothing and comforting me.
I jerk upright at a crash from downstairs. I'm breathing erratically again and I force myself to swallow. Of course, Sarah is just downstairs getting a snack and didn't hear me. That must be it. I'll just go check.
I can't help the quiet sob which escapes my throat as I walk down the hallway to the stairs, the kitchen just beyond them. Quietly I creep down the steps, wary of the squeaky ones. My skin and pajama's are illuminated dimly by the glow of the refrigerator. It's just Sarah...Just getting a snack...
I lean on the last barrier between the kitchen and myself; the wall. I lean on it as support, to get myself to calm down, to stop breathing so goddamned loudly.
And I turn the corner.
I immediately see my sister, sitting at the small kitchen table and I unthinkingly let out a breath of relief. But then I realize many, many things are wrong. Sarah is not sitting at the table, she's laying on it, her face turned towards me and her eyes open, unseeing. My wide eyes follow the slight trickle of dark liquid dribbling from her mouth, off the table and joining the rather large puddle on the linoleum. Her blue pajamas are stained a dark red, and I hear myself choking. I feel sick...
It's then that I realize that we are not alone. There is someone else, the one who was really using the kitchen for food. He is rummaging within the fridge, a familiar pair of dark green pajama pants sticking out from behind the door. My eyes sting. I haven't blinked in minutes, I realize dully as the person straightened so I could see. Messy brown hair is matted on one side, like my hair in the morning. His white t-shirt drapes loosely off of his childlike form, large green sleeping pants hang to the floor and puddle around his bare feet. But his eyes, green eyes I know so well, stare at me, cold and hard as flint.
Against my will I stand beside my own reflection.*
I smile a cold smirk and I take a step back. No...I'm awake...I'm not asleep!!
"Why, what's wrong?" I ask myself.
"You..."
"You? Me? It is the same thing, right now, my dear myself." I take a step towards myself and I back against the wall again, glancing towards my sister.
"Y-you killed her!" I choked.
"Your right." I hiss, closing in on myself and I see my face and hands are stained red by blood. I'm trapped by my arms, staring into my eyes; their coldness is seeping into my very bones and I feel my breath slipping away. I trace one long finger down my cheek, leaving a trail of crimson. I don't notice as the blood burns my skin. Oh gods, it's still warm... "/I/ killed her. Congratulations..."
And I screamed.
+++
"Dr. Williams! We have an emergency!"
"What is it??"
"It's Krähe, sir! He's screaming his head off an-"
The young doctor cut off as Dr. Williams sighed and rubbed his eyes tiredly. "It's alright, Ms. Shea. Poor Matt will go through these spells every other week. Just reoccurring nightmares, it's nothing too bad. We learned long ago it was best to let him regain his own sanity after these." The older man stood up with a groan and gave Vanessa Shea a kind smile. "You are still new here, right? It may seem strange of me to invite you to do this, but would you like to watch him?"
"Who? Matt?" Vanessa's eyes widened at the man's nod, but found her self nodding in return and they were soon standing behind a viewing screen, staring down at one of her few patients.
Vanessa had only begun work at Mayveiw's Asylum recently, but she already knew many of the patients and doctors. Matthew Krähe had been one of the first people she had met, and she had actually been surprised to find that he had been living at the asylum for the past few years. There seemed not much wrong with him, besides his apparent fear of his reflection and he never seemed to sleep. Vanessa was, however, one of the few doctors Matt would actually let take care of him, though she mostly just talked with him and was a friend. Dr. Williams had said that her effect on him was dramatic. Matt had been sleeping more and was more tolerable of check-ups. They had become friends, in the loosest sense of the term, but never the less, Vanessa was shocked at what she saw on the other side of the glass.
The slightly gaunt man was curled up in a ball against the wall opposite the glass, his lank, white-streaked brown hair falling into his face in a messy mass. He was half restrained in a jacket; Vanessa had put it on him herself, as per her training, to prevent him from doing any harm while she had run for a Doctor, but had regrettably not done the clasps right. Vanessa adjusted her glasses and peered down at the man. Matt was not actually straining against the jacket, though; he actually seemed to be hugging himself. He kept trying to get closer to himself, to draw in as much as he could. While a bit unusual, it was not unheard of for people to do this. But what really got her were his eyes. The green eyes were wide enough to see whites all around the iris, and his pupils were contracted so much they were hardly there, mere pinpricks. And that wasn't all. As strange as it was, it seemed as though each was different. On eye had a terrified look in it, as though he wanted nothing more than to disappear and get away from it all. But the other one was insane. There was a killing look in there, and it made Vanessa shiver.
"He was brought here under charges of murdering his sister, at the time his only family still alive. Everyone, even his lawyer, was terribly confused by his case. Half the time he said he'd done it, that he'd killed his sister, and the other half he said he was innocent but wanted to be locked up anyways. 'To keep me away', he said." Dr. Williams heaved another sigh and shook his head sadly. "The poor boy was even more confused than the jury, judge, and his lawyer combined. I myself talked to him and was his therapist. As much as I could tell, he's been having these nightmares his entire life. I asked him to describe them to me, but I only ever get jumbled bits of it. There are always mirrors, he's always seeing himself, and he's always being followed. 'Followed by my shadow', he says." Vanessa shot Dr. Williams a questioning look. "I think he may have spilt personalities, or schizophrenia. It would certainly explain many things about his behavior."
Ms. Shea nodded and continued to watch the man below her. A surge of sympathy filled her; he looked more like a lost child than anyone who would kill their only family. True to Dr. Williams' word, Matt seemed to be calming down. He'd stopped huddling and seemed to be relaxing a bit. She saw his lips moving, but couldn't hear him, and his right hand kept stroking the long, pale scar down his left cheek.
A thought occurred to her. "How did he get that scar? He always seems to be stroking it..."
Dr. Williams gave a small smile. "We believe it's self inflicted. When he was found, the day after he killed his sister, he was huddled in the kitchen, where the murder happened, curled up just like now, and stroking this fresh wound on his cheek. And muttering..." Dr. Williams trailed off.
Vanessa waited. "Muttering what?" she asked when the Doctor didn't finish his sentence.
Williams shook himself. "He kept muttering, over and over, 'I'm awake. I'm awake. I'm not here and I'm awake.'" Vanessa and the Doctor shared a shiver.
There was a long silence, Vanessa soaking up the information she'd just received from the older man.
"...Ms. Shea?"
"Yes sir?"
"Will you continue to stay on Matt's case? You seem to be helping him recover, and I think it would be mutually beneficial..." Dr. Williams gave Vanessa a long look. The woman took a shuddering breath, then turned to the doctor and nodded firmly. The man's face crinkled as he smiled. "Good, I'm glad."
As the novice and the veteran left the viewing area, the doctor telling the woman to do a better job with putting on straight jackets, below them the man remained huddled, tracing his scar over and over, mumbling and remembering the pain. The pain. He hadn't run fast enough. Faster, faster. He had to run faster...
"Running. Gotta keep running... Don't stop..."
End +++
* A line from Linkin Park's song, 'Crawling'.
Also, let the readers be reminded that Vanessa Shea is not a full fledged doctor yet, it is possible to make mistakes, and that it's a very good thing that she's taking care of one of the less suicidal/homicidal patients.
Funny Note: When I was writing this, I finished it at about 11:00 at night, so when I finally saved it, it was pitch black outside and my desk lamp was the only light on in the house, and I looked around and thought, "Oooh, shit...". I ran all the way to my room. =D Hence the warning at the top, not to read this at night. It may not be very scary to some people, but since I had the story in my head, it sure as hell freaked me out.
Ah, and I'm probably using Schizophrenia wrong in here. I do apologize for that if I am.
Please review and tell me what you think! No critical comments, though; this is an older story and my writing style has improved since then, or so I like to think. Grammar and spelling notifications are great, though.
By I.B.Tryster
/Don't read before bed.../
+++
I've been here before. Walking down the dark hall, I am alone beside myself. Continuous panels of mirrors line the walls, reflecting my image back hundreds upon hundreds of times, pale and lifeless in the darkness.
I know this place. I know my nightmares, and I know what will happen, but I never remember. There is someone...someone here who wants me. Who has always wanted me and follows me, never leaving me alone. Please! Just leave me alone!
I run and run down the hall, trying to see who is following me but at the same time, never wanting to know. My breathing is harsh and my heartbeat pounds in my ears, drowning everything else out. I can't hear. I can only see myself. There's a shadow behind me, following. Always following. I can't let it catch me, not yet...not yet.
My feet are splashing in something. The floor is covered in water. No, it's blood. Blood is all around me, dripping from the mirrors and seeping on the floor. My heart beat is speeding up, erratic and so fast. My chest hurts. I can hardly see my reflections anymore, I'm running so fast. Always running. /Don't stop!/
"Ring around the rosies..."
I sob. It's that voice now. That voice, a little girl's voice, haunted and echoing, faint but loud enough that it drowns out my breathing and my heart.
"Pocket full of posies..."
My legs ach and my chest burns, but I don't stop. I cant, my mind won't let me. I am forever running away, not matter if my heart gives way or if my lungs burst, I will never stop running. My heat beat is a continuous throbbing beat, my panting is almost enough to drown out the voice, but who can silence their own consciousness?
A chasm appears before me. At last! It's nearly over, I'm almost free. But no, there is something different. There is someone above it, a pale glowing light surrounding a porcelain dolls body. Black hair flows like blood down over the pristine dress. The girl is not facing me. But she is the singer. She has to be. What does this mean?! Will I finally know the reasons for this dream, this nightmare? I want to slow down; I'm supposed to slow down before the chasm. But I can't. I won't. Why can't I stop??
"Laughing, laughing..."
My shadow is closer. So close! Why is it so close?! I can't stop now; I can't let it get me. I'll fall into the chasm! Maybe then it will all end...
I speed up. The blood splashing up from my feet has soaked nearly my whole body; flecks of red stain my vision as the dark hole grows closer, and closer.
But so does my shadow, my follower. He is right behind me. Too close!
"We all fall..."
The mirrors shatter into thousands of pieces as I jump into the chasm. I don't see as the childlike singer turns and looks down at me, but some how I know that she sees me. And she screams.
"...DOWN!"
I'm falling. Finally I'm there, and I revel in my bliss that I've finally beaten my dream, I've made it and I'm safe, you can't scare me anymore! But then I stop. My eyes widen. I'm not falling...?
I look up and my eyes widen further. /No/... I've been caught. I almost made it, and I am caught. And finally I see the face of my shadow, my follower, the one I've never wanted to see.
It's me.
I smiled a sickening grin down at myself, watching as my mouth opens in a silent scream. I pull myself up, setting myself firmly on my feet and I brush myself off, ignoring my shocked and horrified expression. Then I lean in close, wrapping my arms around myself in a mocking hug, and I whisper. "Caught me..." And then, without giving myself time to scream, I close my mouth over my self's and we shatter.
+++
I shriek and shoot out of bed, so fast I fall to the floor. Still I scream, screaming nonstop until I finally realize where I am. I'm awake, on my floor, and my head hurts. Ouch, must've hit it when I fell off my bed. I laugh breathlessly, hysterically, breathing in harsh pants as I curl up next to my dresser, hiding from the shadows in my room.
Slowly, oh so slowly, I calm down, my fearful eyes looking less and less like a wild animal's. And I realize something is wrong. My sister should have been here. I regularly wake up screaming from my nightmares, and she was always there in seconds, soothing and comforting me.
I jerk upright at a crash from downstairs. I'm breathing erratically again and I force myself to swallow. Of course, Sarah is just downstairs getting a snack and didn't hear me. That must be it. I'll just go check.
I can't help the quiet sob which escapes my throat as I walk down the hallway to the stairs, the kitchen just beyond them. Quietly I creep down the steps, wary of the squeaky ones. My skin and pajama's are illuminated dimly by the glow of the refrigerator. It's just Sarah...Just getting a snack...
I lean on the last barrier between the kitchen and myself; the wall. I lean on it as support, to get myself to calm down, to stop breathing so goddamned loudly.
And I turn the corner.
I immediately see my sister, sitting at the small kitchen table and I unthinkingly let out a breath of relief. But then I realize many, many things are wrong. Sarah is not sitting at the table, she's laying on it, her face turned towards me and her eyes open, unseeing. My wide eyes follow the slight trickle of dark liquid dribbling from her mouth, off the table and joining the rather large puddle on the linoleum. Her blue pajamas are stained a dark red, and I hear myself choking. I feel sick...
It's then that I realize that we are not alone. There is someone else, the one who was really using the kitchen for food. He is rummaging within the fridge, a familiar pair of dark green pajama pants sticking out from behind the door. My eyes sting. I haven't blinked in minutes, I realize dully as the person straightened so I could see. Messy brown hair is matted on one side, like my hair in the morning. His white t-shirt drapes loosely off of his childlike form, large green sleeping pants hang to the floor and puddle around his bare feet. But his eyes, green eyes I know so well, stare at me, cold and hard as flint.
Against my will I stand beside my own reflection.*
I smile a cold smirk and I take a step back. No...I'm awake...I'm not asleep!!
"Why, what's wrong?" I ask myself.
"You..."
"You? Me? It is the same thing, right now, my dear myself." I take a step towards myself and I back against the wall again, glancing towards my sister.
"Y-you killed her!" I choked.
"Your right." I hiss, closing in on myself and I see my face and hands are stained red by blood. I'm trapped by my arms, staring into my eyes; their coldness is seeping into my very bones and I feel my breath slipping away. I trace one long finger down my cheek, leaving a trail of crimson. I don't notice as the blood burns my skin. Oh gods, it's still warm... "/I/ killed her. Congratulations..."
And I screamed.
+++
"Dr. Williams! We have an emergency!"
"What is it??"
"It's Krähe, sir! He's screaming his head off an-"
The young doctor cut off as Dr. Williams sighed and rubbed his eyes tiredly. "It's alright, Ms. Shea. Poor Matt will go through these spells every other week. Just reoccurring nightmares, it's nothing too bad. We learned long ago it was best to let him regain his own sanity after these." The older man stood up with a groan and gave Vanessa Shea a kind smile. "You are still new here, right? It may seem strange of me to invite you to do this, but would you like to watch him?"
"Who? Matt?" Vanessa's eyes widened at the man's nod, but found her self nodding in return and they were soon standing behind a viewing screen, staring down at one of her few patients.
Vanessa had only begun work at Mayveiw's Asylum recently, but she already knew many of the patients and doctors. Matthew Krähe had been one of the first people she had met, and she had actually been surprised to find that he had been living at the asylum for the past few years. There seemed not much wrong with him, besides his apparent fear of his reflection and he never seemed to sleep. Vanessa was, however, one of the few doctors Matt would actually let take care of him, though she mostly just talked with him and was a friend. Dr. Williams had said that her effect on him was dramatic. Matt had been sleeping more and was more tolerable of check-ups. They had become friends, in the loosest sense of the term, but never the less, Vanessa was shocked at what she saw on the other side of the glass.
The slightly gaunt man was curled up in a ball against the wall opposite the glass, his lank, white-streaked brown hair falling into his face in a messy mass. He was half restrained in a jacket; Vanessa had put it on him herself, as per her training, to prevent him from doing any harm while she had run for a Doctor, but had regrettably not done the clasps right. Vanessa adjusted her glasses and peered down at the man. Matt was not actually straining against the jacket, though; he actually seemed to be hugging himself. He kept trying to get closer to himself, to draw in as much as he could. While a bit unusual, it was not unheard of for people to do this. But what really got her were his eyes. The green eyes were wide enough to see whites all around the iris, and his pupils were contracted so much they were hardly there, mere pinpricks. And that wasn't all. As strange as it was, it seemed as though each was different. On eye had a terrified look in it, as though he wanted nothing more than to disappear and get away from it all. But the other one was insane. There was a killing look in there, and it made Vanessa shiver.
"He was brought here under charges of murdering his sister, at the time his only family still alive. Everyone, even his lawyer, was terribly confused by his case. Half the time he said he'd done it, that he'd killed his sister, and the other half he said he was innocent but wanted to be locked up anyways. 'To keep me away', he said." Dr. Williams heaved another sigh and shook his head sadly. "The poor boy was even more confused than the jury, judge, and his lawyer combined. I myself talked to him and was his therapist. As much as I could tell, he's been having these nightmares his entire life. I asked him to describe them to me, but I only ever get jumbled bits of it. There are always mirrors, he's always seeing himself, and he's always being followed. 'Followed by my shadow', he says." Vanessa shot Dr. Williams a questioning look. "I think he may have spilt personalities, or schizophrenia. It would certainly explain many things about his behavior."
Ms. Shea nodded and continued to watch the man below her. A surge of sympathy filled her; he looked more like a lost child than anyone who would kill their only family. True to Dr. Williams' word, Matt seemed to be calming down. He'd stopped huddling and seemed to be relaxing a bit. She saw his lips moving, but couldn't hear him, and his right hand kept stroking the long, pale scar down his left cheek.
A thought occurred to her. "How did he get that scar? He always seems to be stroking it..."
Dr. Williams gave a small smile. "We believe it's self inflicted. When he was found, the day after he killed his sister, he was huddled in the kitchen, where the murder happened, curled up just like now, and stroking this fresh wound on his cheek. And muttering..." Dr. Williams trailed off.
Vanessa waited. "Muttering what?" she asked when the Doctor didn't finish his sentence.
Williams shook himself. "He kept muttering, over and over, 'I'm awake. I'm awake. I'm not here and I'm awake.'" Vanessa and the Doctor shared a shiver.
There was a long silence, Vanessa soaking up the information she'd just received from the older man.
"...Ms. Shea?"
"Yes sir?"
"Will you continue to stay on Matt's case? You seem to be helping him recover, and I think it would be mutually beneficial..." Dr. Williams gave Vanessa a long look. The woman took a shuddering breath, then turned to the doctor and nodded firmly. The man's face crinkled as he smiled. "Good, I'm glad."
As the novice and the veteran left the viewing area, the doctor telling the woman to do a better job with putting on straight jackets, below them the man remained huddled, tracing his scar over and over, mumbling and remembering the pain. The pain. He hadn't run fast enough. Faster, faster. He had to run faster...
"Running. Gotta keep running... Don't stop..."
End +++
* A line from Linkin Park's song, 'Crawling'.
Also, let the readers be reminded that Vanessa Shea is not a full fledged doctor yet, it is possible to make mistakes, and that it's a very good thing that she's taking care of one of the less suicidal/homicidal patients.
Funny Note: When I was writing this, I finished it at about 11:00 at night, so when I finally saved it, it was pitch black outside and my desk lamp was the only light on in the house, and I looked around and thought, "Oooh, shit...". I ran all the way to my room. =D Hence the warning at the top, not to read this at night. It may not be very scary to some people, but since I had the story in my head, it sure as hell freaked me out.
Ah, and I'm probably using Schizophrenia wrong in here. I do apologize for that if I am.
Please review and tell me what you think! No critical comments, though; this is an older story and my writing style has improved since then, or so I like to think. Grammar and spelling notifications are great, though.
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