The sky was dark, cloaked in layers of restless clouds, rumbling and ready to storm. Aaron blinked against the harsh wind whipping through the trees, standing alone on a narrow path that cut through the woods. He didn’t know why he was there, just that he felt pulled to keep walking forward.
The deeper he ventured, the heavier the silence grew. His steps echoed in the damp soil as if someone — or something — were mimicking each footfall just a few paces behind him. He could feel it: a presence lingering just out of sight, invisible yet somehow near enough to breathe down his neck.
He picked up his pace, heart racing. In the nightmare, Aaron always ran. He’d had it so many times he knew each twist and turn of the path as if he had traced them with his own hands. Tonight, the nightmare had more weight, like something solid enough to press down on his chest.
A twig snapped behind him, and Aaron froze. He forced himself to glance back over his shoulder, and he saw it — a shadowy figure, shrouded in darkness but with gleaming red eyes. His stomach dropped. The figure stepped closer, and Aaron stumbled backward, feeling his heartbeat slam against his ribs.
Then came the whisper, low and gravelly, like the voice of someone who hadn’t spoken in years. “You can’t run anymore, Aaron. This time, I’m here.”
He sprinted, his lungs burning with each ragged breath, but the shadow followed with inhuman speed. Branches tore at his skin, roots seemed to reach for his ankles, but he kept running, terror driving him forward. The nightmare wouldn’t end — he couldn’t wake up. His vision blurred with panic and exhaustion.
Then, Aaron stumbled, landing hard against the muddy earth. He looked up, and the shadow was looming over him. He could see its twisted form — a faceless figure made of darkness, teeth bared in a sinister grin that seemed to slice through the air.
He closed his eyes, waiting for the impact.
But then, he heard birds chirping. Sunlight pierced his closed eyelids, warm against his skin. He opened his eyes slowly, finding himself in his bed, his room bathed in morning light. His heart was still racing, his skin clammy with cold sweat. Relief washed over him, and he exhaled.
Then he noticed it: his arm was scratched, fresh red marks bleeding against his skin. Mud caked his legs. A faint whisper still echoed in his mind. “This time, I’m here.”
Aaron felt a chill trickle down his spine. His nightmare was real — it was only the beginning.