Little Nightmares Art Book Novels & Stories

“Oh. That. I’m sorry I didn’t mention it before, but I…well…I get night terrors.” My brows raised. “Night terrors?” “Yeah. I’ve had them for a long time, recurring nightmares that make me lash out in my sleep.” “Would it help if you talk about it…the dream, I mean?” Arthur wouldn’t look me in the eyes. “It’s really embarrassing.” “Arthur, I’ve seen you—and plenty of others—without makeup. How embarrassing could it be?” I smiled teasingly at Arthur and gave him a wink. He smiled weakly. “You’re not going to leave me alone until I tell you, are you?”

But Papa went pale when he saw it. Mama burned sage in every room. She didn’t stop until Liliana fell asleep coughing from the smoke. Even the younger pups in the pack—kids my age and under—started having nightmares. I heard them whispering during training. About things scratching under their beds. Whispers that said their names. One kid tried to draw a sigil he saw in his dream. He carved it into a tree near the mess hall. The bark bled. They had to burn the tree.

I could see that he was genuinely worried. “Yes, it was just a nightmare. A chillingly lifelike and haunting dream...” I mumbled, my voice sounded groggy. It was just a nightmare, right? A small chuckle escaped me and I looked up at him. “I guess that is why it’s called a nightmare. Night terrors often feel incredibly realistic.” I could still feel the remnants of fear lingering in my mind, as if the dream had embedded itself into my thoughts. The more I tried to shake it off, the stronger its grip on me became.

I sit in bed, staring absentmindedly at a corner of the room. Moonlight seeps through the windows and paints everything a serene shade of blue and the silence is calm, but my mind is far away from the present. Unlike my dreams, I remember my nightmares in brutal detail. They are never scary, just reminders of my past and all the things I could have, should have, done differently. My nightmares are a collage of regrets resurfacing to remind me who I am and what I destroyed.

Fifteen minutes wouldn’t kill anyone. Kit walked down the hallways of the now-dead quiet building. The tan walls lined with art pieces were comforting in a way. Kit could see why people came here to get the help they needed to be able to sleep correctly again. Kit hoped that she would be able to sleep again after she did this. It had been so long that the idea of sleep had become foreign. Something she had to do but never long enough. Never to dream and wake up refreshed. Never to wake up and be happy. The tug was too much on her heart. The pain had to go away.

Tessa took his hand and pulled him down the hall. As he entered the room, he looked at Jennah and Dom and couldn’t help think that this scene started because of a dream. A note from Jacqueline Paige: I hope you enjoyed reading Dreams as much as I enjoyed writing it! My website is jacquelinepaige (dot) com; I love feedback.

Pale grey walls, windows that showed off the city but she could tell the pedestrians didn't have the same luxury. Her eyes then landed on the paintings hung on the wall. Her legs made their way to them before she could stop herself, her fingers tracing one of the pictures of a boy writhing in his bed, underneath it lay hands clawing on his neck more like a Dropbox exposing his horrifying dreams. Maya turned to meet his gaze not knowing what to make of that, her eyes took in another painting. Intricately patterned was a tiny lining beneath it, swirling dark thoughts, that seems like a suicide note.

It was not much, but it was what she needed. Jess knew that she couldn’t sleep, she needed to be vigilant, so she rather read the book, trying to make some logic out of the craziest few weeks she had ever had too experience. The more Jess read, the more live seemed like a joke, how could mates and werewolf really exist? How could mind-links, super speed, heightened hearing, and super healing exist? The more she read the more she started to think that somewhere along the line she had died and was now stuck in the weirdest hell ever, or maybe she was in coma and hadn’t woken up yet? These reasons made more sense than what the book was telling her. Jess had wanted to just forget what the book s

Sonja and the others watched the old book curiously, the cover depicts a compass with a crescent moon covering one side while a greek ship at the bottom carrying the two, the words Liber Somniorum etched in gold seem to be the title of the book. "The Book of Dreams." Samantha whispered. Phil and his friends looked at Samantha. "That's what the title means, The Book of Dreams." Samantha explained shyly. After Samantha's explanation, they returned and curiously read the book again. Phil then flipped the book and stopped at the page which explains how to control your dreams and a set of practices on becoming a Lucid Dreamer. Eric and Sonja were intrigued and wanted to practice as well, while Sa

And from somewhere deep inside me, I assertively whispered, “Relinquo!” Almost as if in response, it leaped off of the man and vanished into the darkness. The room returned to dark and shadowy lighting. I stepped forward, looking at the man's now torn back and reached out to touch it. Suddenly he jumped as. he gasped for air. I stepped back in alarm and grasped the desk. As he settled back into a deep slumber, I turned to look and see what all was on the desk. There was a picture frame made of silver that I could almost see reflections in. A dark book sat there and a small snow globe beside it. I reached out and picked up the snow globe. A smile came across my face as I looked at it closer.