Romans & histoires Fever Dream High In The Quiet Of The Night

She turned back to the snow. “Then you’d better pray your body holds.” “I don’t pray,” I muttered. But gods, maybe I should’ve. --- Fever Dreams Sometime in the dead hours, Isabella stirred. Not gently, not soft—jerked like her body had been yanked by unseen hands. She thrashed weakly, her fever driving her into half-dreams, words spilling broken from her lips. “No—don’t—please—” Her voice cracked, guttural, dragging knives across my chest.

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND FIFTY THREE The moon was high when I finally stirred, the room swallowed by the deep, heavy stillness of late night. The air felt cooler now, a sharp contrast to the heat of the morning. I shifted slowly, my movements sluggish from a deep sleep, and turned toward the other side of the bed.

In his recollection, it was a once-in-a-blue-moon occurrence. Yet, he couldn't remember much about his dream. He only knew someone was right beside him in the darkest of times. He wasn't afraid of the pitch-black house but only of the loneliness of being by himself. He hated being alone. Now, he had someone. He may not see their face clearly nor hear any voices. Yet, he felt it was okay to sink into this dream. Thus, he willingly sank into it, and never did he wake up again. "Shit. He has a high fever. He can't even wake up."

The fever returned that night, but not in heat. It came in voices. Not from the trees. Not from the wolves. From beneath. From the part of her that had grown quiet ever since the blood ritual at the tree. The part that now whispered behind her teeth. She thrashed in her bed, quilts soaked through. Her skin glistened with sweat, cold as river stones. Her body writhed without command, pulled by invisible threads. And then she dreamed... But not the kind of dream one wakes from.

Cared about his friends, she said. If Henry learned that Jake took care of his wife so much that she was pregnant with his baby, he might be so angry that he would end up crawling out of his grave to kill Jake. When I said nothing, Winnie gave me a fearful look. “Luna, are you still angry at me and Jake? I really just want a baby of my own. I’m just too lonely and scared alone.” As if she had just been bullied, Winnie started sobbing. Quickly, Gertrude grabbed some tissues for her to wipe her tears before glaring at me.

“Close your eyes and go back to your bed, Jennah...” She opened her eyes and then bolted upright. She was in her room. Turning, she glowered at the clock. It was only four in the morning. Her heart was still trembling out a loud beat from his touch. She touched her throat and could swear it felt as real as the mouth in her dreams had.

“And I’m wearing her skin.” The room fell quiet again, but it wasn’t peaceful. It was the silence before a storm, deadly, poised, and waiting. In the middle of the night, it was still. No wind, no rustling leaves. Just silence thick enough to hear one's heartbeat echo. But Damien’s sleep was anything but silent. He twisted on the bed, limbs tangled in the sheets, sweat slicking his brow. His breaths came short and sharp. His face contorted with pain. Then in his dream, his lips parted, pleading.

Modern, furnished and beautiful and looking new everyday although the house was five years old already. Juana's coffee was transparent, lot of water,lot of sugar, no milk. So she could see her face while sipping at it. Her big blue eyes were a bit undefined, her expression showed fear with a mixture of helplessness and unusual calm. Then the dream came again. Avocado. Garden. Branch. Third branch. Corpse dripping with blood. Loose. Screaming. Empty House. Dream. "Oh my goodness" she sighed, dropping her half empty mug. She tried to make meaning out of it, but it was a little creepy..

It was clear that whatever he was experiencing in his dream was causing him great distress. Feeling a sense of helplessness wash over me, I racked my brain for a solution. Then, it hit me. Remembering my mother’s remedy for fever-induced nightmares, I rushed to the kitchen and filled a bowl with cool water. Dipping a cloth into the water, I wrung it out before placing it gently on Declan’s chest, hoping the coolness would soothe his fevered skin.

Was he praying I wondered as I drew closer to take a peek. “Leave us alone, don't you dare come any closer……..” he said continuously with his eyes tightly shut, he was having a bad dream, but it wasn't even raining and it was far into the day, i stretched my hands over his head and discoverd his temperature was extremely high and he had beads of sweat all around in his face, this was bad. “Damian” I shook him lightly to wake him up, but he was far gone into the realm as his murmor only got louder and more intense