Dream Where Teeth Crumble Novels & Stories

A wet, sickening crack echoed through the room as the first tooth tore free, blood pooling instantly. His screams curdled the air. “ONE FOR SARAH,” I growled, my voice venom. “You're crazy,” he breathed, sputtering on his own saliva The second molar. Twist. Pull. Another scream, sharper this time, more desperate. “ONE FOR GABRIEL.” “F*ck you, f*ck, you,” His words slurred now, garbled with blood. The third tooth. The fourth. He spat blood onto the floor, coughing, sobbing, shaking now, the pain finally starting to pierce his delusion.

Delia’s POV It was a quiet and sad dream. When I woke up from my dream, tears came out of my eyes for some reason. The baby teeth Kral had handed me on my ankles glowed slightly. I touched it, remembering the last images of Kral's parents in my dream.

His fingers cracked as he clawed at the air, like he was ripping open the belly of a beast. He gritted his teeth. “A bit rusty, I see,” Sam hissed. His mouth, lined with fangs, opened unholily wide. The pit below groaned open. The rock walls cracked as debris whirlpooled into the depths. A boulder crashed into the water, turned white-hot, then melted in an instant. I wondered what would happen to me. “You must give dentist's nightmares,” I muttered, cringing as I looked at him. He was truly a vision from Hell.

"I don't want to lose what we have now, but I'm so scared—so unbelievably terrified that this is all just another cruel act to get something from me, or that I'll soon wake up to find this has all just been a nasty dream." At these words, a single tear rolled down his cheek, followed by another, until they were pouring freely from his eyes. But I knew deep down that this was merely what I desperately wanted to see—after all, the Rominic in my dreams would weep so freely, while the real Rominic would never cry so easily.

I wipe my mouth on the back of my hand, sitting down on the cold tile floor, I lean against the wall and attempt to stabilize my breathing. It was just a dream, Kris. A nightmare. Everything about him was a nightmare. I run my vomit-free hand through my hair, brushing the sweaty strands behind my ears. I take a deep breath and ease myself from the floor. I wash my hands and stare blankly at my reflection in the mirror. I don't recognize the face that looks back at me. She's a broken shell of the woman she once was, sweaty hair plastered to her pale face and bloodshot eyes. It takes me a moment to accept that the woman staring back at me, is myself.

Something mad. I see his tongue probe the inside of his cheek, pressing against something. His jaw clenches. My heart clenches with unease. "Dom—" I start to warn. But Thomas is already moving. With a guttural scream, he wrenches his broken arm upward—bone protruding through torn flesh—and shoves his fingers into his mouth. A wet crack echoes through the clearing as he rips free a fang. The moment it leaves his mouth, the tooth blackens, its surface bubbling like tar under moonlight.

When it smiled, I saw teeth like broken glass. "It's me." We were too late. The real nightmare was just beginning.

If he ever stands in front of a mirror and hates himself the way I sometimes do. I don’t cry anymore. Not really. The tears dried up somewhere between my third rejection email and the night I couldn’t sleep because the apartment was too quiet. But I dream. And in my dreams, we’re back in that shitty walk-up apartment, burning pasta on the stove and laughing until it hurt. Those dreams are the worst kind—sweet and sharp, like a knife wrapped in silk. I wake up from them gasping, aching, and furious all over again.

Alex's Pov I tossed and turned throughout the night. Images of Ryan's beat up face kept flashing through my mind. His eyes swollen shut, his lips burst and bleeding. And that snap of his arm. In my dreams, the snap was louder. Impossibly loud. It reverberated along the walls. echoed through forests. It tore through my mind, shattering my soul. I woke up sweating despite the air conditioning.

A sharp image suddenly flashed through my mind—blood splattered against walls, guts and entrails spilling across the ground, and lifeless faces staring into the void. I gasped, my hand flying to my mouth as the distorted vision gripped me. It was hazy and fragmented, like a memory seen through broken glass, but the faces were unmistakable. Alpha Orion. Rmonica. Their lifeless eyes stared back at me, their bodies mangled and torn beyond recognition. The fear was overwhelming, paralyzing me as the fragments of the nightmare tore through me with merciless precision. My breath hitched, and my fingers dug into the fabric of my sweater. The overwhelming sense of helplessness from the dream surged