Haunting Nightmares Novels & Stories

she slapped my ass and turned off the light as she left the room. I closed my eyes tightly, trying to regulate my thoughts and silence the ‘what if’ voice growing in my head. Thankfully the beer in my system worked its magic, and I drifted off to Dreamworld.

What did I do to deserve all this? It started out as just nightmares, but now it was not just that anymore. The witch, she had gotten more vivid as the time went by and now I am beginning to think that I am genuinely haunted. The nightmares weren’t just in my sleep anymore, they were ruining my fucking life, and I hated it. And today was one of those nights where I had barely closed my eyes for two minutes when it started again. Everything was dark. Then I heard her malicious whispers, cold, dark, scary. Her cold tendrils wrapping around my throat like icy vines, choking me.

I can hear the women laughing about something, their voices warm and comfortable. For a moment, everything feels almost normal. Almost peaceful. But there's something that's been nagging at me. Something I've been trying not to think about, not to voice, not to give power to by acknowledging it out loud. The nightmares have been getting worse. More frequent. More vivid. Claire's face, covered in blood. 'His' laugh echoing in my ears. The baby that never got to be born. And in every nightmare, 'he' is there. Smiling. Promising that it's not over. That he's not done with us yet.

At that time, I wondered to myself, why should I take half of the life span of a person who should have lost his life span completely? Starting as just dreams, in the dead of night, a voice carrying cold air will slowly creep up to my ear, long slippery tongue slurping words out in terrifying distortions: "I'll take your place. ”, “I will take over your life”, “I will take him”. Then came a long series of nightmares. I once watched a horror movie with a similar plot, “US”. Every time we fall asleep, the film's murky colors blend into our indoor layout; The faces of our sinister twin and ours overlapped, tormenting me in terrors. In the murky darkness of reality or dream, from time to time ca

"Shadows don't move on their own." Except mine always had. I did the breathing exercise Mrs. Hawthorne taught me when I was little, count to ten, close your eyes, think of something peaceful. When I opened them again, everything was normal. Just regular darkness doing what darkness does. My phone said 3:33 AM. Of course it did. Every time the nightmares woke me up, it was always 3:33. The nightmare was still fresh, playing on repeat behind my eyes. A burning kingdom,a man with silver eyes reaching for me, mouth moving in words I couldn't hear. Shadows swallowing everything the castle, the sky, the screaming people. And me, falling through darkness that tasted like death itself.

That song, that was on the radio I have heard it somewhere before and I keep trying to wrack my brain to figure out exactly where from. Feeling suddenly like this is all something from a bad movie, I look closer at the date and time on my phone and then I know what has happened. I had forgot that the night before I had a couple friends over and we watched a zombie movie. Clearly, I am in a nightmare, and it is all because of that stinking movie.

My Nightmare Natty's POV It was morning already and last night was a long night. I never knew he was that insatiable.I lot count as to how many times we did it. Thinking about it, I smiled. I looked over to him and smiled more. He was still sleeping like a baby. I tried standing up but I felt pain in my thighs. I tried again but I just groaned. My groaning woke him up,he was baffled and asked. "Baby are you alright..."he asked in a husky voice.

“How do you know?” Raven’s eyes glowed faintly with reflected aurora. “Because she’s calling for me.” --- Global Dreamspace — Nightmare Bloom Shadows rose like smoke along the horizon, their forms shifting, trembling with human fear. Nightmares made manifest. Faces twisted by guilt. Memories stained by wounds. Traumas long buried clawing their way into the shared dream. Sophia stepped forward. “No — not like this.” The nightmares surged, not malicious, but desperate — the unprocessed pain of billions seeking release all at once.

The nightmares did not stop. Every night, the ghosts came. My mother, her face twisted into a mask of shadow, her voice accusing. Kaelen, his eyes black, his hands reaching for my throat, his fingers cold. Lorna, her white hair wild, her crown of thorns dripping blood that sizzled where it touched the floor. Marcus, laughing, always laughing, his black eyes watching me from the corners of my dreams, his voice whispering that I would never be free.

CHAPTER 18. HAUNTED BY MY NIGHTMARES HARA LUCID NIGHTMARES. That's what they call it. Because in the nightmare I'm having at the moment, I'm aware that I'm dreaming, that I'm having another nightmare. And they weren't just any random nightmares, they were a reoccurrence of my past with Roland. *