Daycare Nightmare Novels & Stories

“You have survived the mafia, assassination attempts, being blown up and Caelum’s mother. Motherhood will be a breeze." We both knew that wasn't true, but it was sweet of her to say. “What’s it like to have nightmares?” the nightmare started in the fourteenth week. The same terror every night, but in different guises. Gregor discovering our home, coming through our unlocked door. Hurting the baby when I had no power to protect her. Thing I would put on that list: Killing Caelum in my presence. Sometimes I would wake up screaming, sometimes crying gently, always alone in our too big bed.

Waking up the next day is a nightmare. Riley had not wanted to go to sleep. She continuously got out of bed and played with her toys. She laughed and screamed, waking Maryanne several times during the night. With Max still not home, she is forced to do everything for the child. Now, with three consecutive hours of sleep, Maryanne is trying to wake Riley up to get ready. Although Geneva is gone, there is a drop-in daycare three blocks over that usually has room for a few extra children a day.

"Mom! Dad!" Margo screamed, bolting up from her nightmare. Nightmare was putting it lightly. No. That night was the beginning of hell as she screamed her voice hoarse hoping and praying that someone would hear her. She had spent most of her life aware of the world's dark deeds. Still, nothing could have prepared her for that night or her life after. It was the night that she had lost everything. Now she knew that it was up to her to get herself out of the situation that she was in as she stared at the tiny lifeless form laying on the rusted cot next to her. Tears filled her eyes as she cradled the infant against her breasts.

Denae twisted awake in her bed, breathing hard with eyes that were as wide as saucers. She had just woken up from a nightmare, one which included her imaginary depiction of how her parents died. Jerald had told her the whole story and because of that, she could easily picture the awful scene in the nightmares that haunted her at night. Rubbing her eyes, she shuffled off the bed and towards the one bathroom in the house that she unfortunately shared with the other girls. On mornings like this when Jerald demanded they all have breakfast together, they’d get ready and leave for the dining house as soon as the sun came out.

(ZAYNE'S POV) The sound of my daughter's spoon clinking against her cereal bowl pulls me out of my thoughts before the caffeine even kicks in. "Daddy," she says, her voice small but serious. I glance up from my mug. "Yeah, sweetheart?" She hesitates, her little brows pinching together. "I had a nightmare last night." That immediately gets my attention. I set the mug down and lean forward. "A nightmare? What about?" She chews on her bottom lip before whispering, "The bad men. They took you again. But this time, you didn't come back."

He had always been most afraid of Gale's tears, but now he found out he was scared of another. Shawn replied, "Daddy can take you home, but you have to tell Daddy the reason." "Because, because..." "Huh? Don't worry, just speak slowly." Nicole still had teardrops on her eyelashes. "I had a terrible nightmare. I saw a devil with a bloody mouth..." "Nicole, there are no devils in this world. It's just a dream." "But this dream is so real. If Mommy hadn't told me that I had a nightmare, I would have thought it was real. The devil is standing by my hospital bed, reaching out to choke my neck," Nicole replied very seriously.

I woke up this morning in a panic at dawn, convinced the last week had been some kind of erotic stress hallucination caused by unemployment and untreated trauma. Then I rolled over, saw the matte black credit card sitting on my nightstand and remembered that the giant hot men are real. And I work for them now. The daycare itself is chaos disguised as order. It’s beautiful, obviously. Everything here is beautiful. Warm wood floors, huge windows looking out into the forest, shelves lined with expensive toys that probably came from artisanal Scandinavian forests where the trees are sung to before harvesting. But beneath all the P*******t perfection a weird undercurrent of tension hums through t

My baby daughter keeps me and my wife awake all through the night; we were warned as new parents that this would happen. I just wish she hadn’t died two months ago. The books on parenting all spoke of the "fourth trimester." They detailed the sleep deprivation, the phantom cries, and the way your biological clock shatters into a thousand jagged pieces. "It gets better," the veteran parents would say with a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. But they were talking about the living. They didn't have a manual for the sound of tiny fingernails scratching against the underside of a floorboard, or the way the baby monitor crackles to life at 3:14 AM with the sound of wet, labored breathing.

Alexander began reading from the top of the files; he was going to figure out why she said she wasn't herself. The files stated her age, height, skills, and everything else. Her mother had died when she was five years old, and that caused her phobia. Alexander's brows knotted; he was confused by how her mother's death caused her phobia. He read further: After her mother's death, Yulia was constantly locked up in their dark basement by her sister. She would starve, and when her father found out, he let her get beaten in the basement and blamed the death of her mother on her.

Then I turned to my nanny, Dora for support. The phone connected, carrying the sound of my nanny's gentle and calming voice, well, the voice she used for only me because, to other people, she was mean. "Honey, what a pleasant surprise." "Nana, I'm coming home. I'm having some strange nightmares, and I don't like them." "What kind?" "Well, it's-I've been seeing ghosts, and it's not funny at all." My nanny gasped. "Oh goodness, you need to come home right now. I have someone that can help you."