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Horror

The Alive Nightmare

Speak before it’s too late….

May 14, 2025  |   2 min read

J E

Jordan E
The Alive Nightmare
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It was a quiet thud that snapped me from my dreaming state. For it could only be my guardians at which the sound would have emerged from, though it was quite unusual for my parents to be awake at this hour. They were deep snorers always competing for the win. I somehow knew it was them. I rose from bed and slowly walked towards the staircase intently listening for another noise. It was quiet but it was definitely there, that "thud." My curiosity won me over and I made my way down the stairs expertly avoiding the squeaking parts to some of the wooden steps. I walked towards my parents bedroom and halted at the door. They were not in their bed. How strange it was to see red. Red? Why was the deep flow of red making its appearance from under their bathroom door? I had bare feet as I stumbled to the pool of dark liquid. It stuck to my feet and made me go rigid with fear. Fear I have never felt before worked its way through my body, and stuck to me the same way the blood on my feet would be tattooed to my soul. I open the bathroom door to find two figures lying on the floor. Was it their bodies falling to the ground that the thud noise I heard came from? Stab wounds to the abdomen and crooked knees from the unnatural ways they had fallen. The smell of iron so pigmented in the air ` threatened to take my consciousness. The cold, unrelenting, feel of metal in my hand makes my body go cold. I look down and my eyes gaze at the sharp knife, dripping with my parents' blood. I walk over and stand at the heads of my parents and look down into their lifeless eyes. The blood flowing out of them is endless as it is up to my ankles in height. This was not my doing yet I hold the weapon. My head fills with guilt so strong from a crime I am innocent to. The guilt overrides and the knife plunges deep into my stomach with a sound so horrific even a demon itself would flinch away. My knees crunch against the tile as they slam to the floor. This was my doing, this was my choice, but where is the guilt? My soul remains plastered to the body it was so unfortunately trapped in. I cannot move yet I can see and hear everything. I'm still so alive even against my best efforts with the cold metal through me. Movement so subtle happens outside the bathroom door. My sister, she comes though, her eyes full of fear and misunderstanding. Her hand covers her mouth at the same time a figure appears at her back. She seems not to sense it. I try to warn her but no sound can leave my throat. The thing wraps its long spindly hands around her innocent shoulders and yanks her back into the darkness. Her piercing screams fill the air, I try to stand but my body remains unmovable. I cannot die. As punishment for the crime I did not commit I watch my parents bleed and hear my sister scream for eternity.

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