The Nightmare

This story is based on a nightmare I had when I was 11 years old. It was so scary, that I remember it, even today.

I'm standing. In my kitchen. Only, it's not really my kitchen. It doesn't feel right. The Walls are aged and the lights are out. I rely on the moonlight shining through the window to give me guidance.

For comfort, I manoeuvre myself to the window, where I can at least be in the small amount of blue moonlight. I'm looking out of the window. All seems normal, until the shape of a hunched body hobbles across the view. Out of site. A terrifying banging starts on the door. I think of going over, but my legs are paralysed from shock. Screaming begins at the door. They're coming to get her. She's not the devil. She screeches. She promises she isn't. I go. Open the door. The decrepit old lady falls through the door. I jump back. She's shaking. Uncontrollably. Her cheeks have been torn, so that her jaw hangs loose. She's trying to scream, but the blood asphyxiates her. She looks and points at the stairs, before brutally dying there and then.

It's pitch black on the staircase. I make my way up. This time I hear another scream. It's coming from my room. I stand at the bottom of the short stairs leading up to my bedroom door. Lights pound and flicker around the rim of the frame. The scream is loud. The sound of a chainsaw starts up, as I realise that the screams were that of my mum's. I feel weak. I drop to the floor, by now in tears. My knees and hands touch the wet floor. Wet and thick. I look up to see blood spilling down the stairs. The screams have stopped, but the chainsaw carries on.

I awaken. Sweat resting on my brow. My bedside clock reads 4:23am. It was just a dream. As I go to move the covers, I notice my hands are wet. I turn on the light. Hold my hands close to my face. A film of blood. The floor squeaks at the end of my bed. I move my hands quickly to see the old lady, jaw swinging loosely. Cheeks torn. She looks at me. I look at her. I grow petrified, and as I do, she lifts her hand to show a demon like set of claws, or talons, in place of her wrinkly hand. She points. She's come to get me.