Nightmare Eyes Novels & Stories

I shut the window immediately, locked it and ran to the bathroom and locked it too. Luckily, there was no window in there so I felt a bit safer. But the terror I felt when I looked at the creature wasn't because of its size or the fact that it could be a rogue or what it could possibly be doing outside this little cottage at this time of night. No, what scared me was it's eyes. Those same eyes that haunt me in my dreams, those eyes that have been scaring me for the past 17 years of my life. Gray-blue eyes filled with hatred and anger. I leaned my head against the toilet and I don't know how I managed it, but I fell asleep. I fell into a deep troubled sleep ...

Sarah was waiting for her at the door (as I called her here beforehand) and they both left, the pack doctor was in an inner room and I had no idea where the nurses were so that left just me and Rosé in the room I caressed her cheek with the back of my hand ‘sorry I put you through this’ I whispered ‘Aidan?’ she said then began turning left and right on the bed ‘Rosie? Can you hear me?’ She shook again as if fighting against something then she calmed down and then opened her eyes but her eyes weren’t the normal brown colored eyes I knew, they were yellow

Only a priest's prayers could ensure that Daeleen received my eyes. Onlookers expressed envy, and some were even moved to tears by Samuel's devotion to Daeleen. What they did not know was that the romantic Capo they were admiring had plucked out his own wife's eyes, and that the owner of the eyeballs on display were now lying on a bed, staring into nothing but darkness. There was no painkiller being administered. All the moans from the pain left me panting for air, with only the ventilator to keep me from suffocating.

"I couldn't sleep because of the nightmares and I've been up all night trying to find the person that did this. He left a note at the scene. It was your picture and blood was smeared over it." My eyes widened in shock as he brought out the picture. It was a picture of me as a child. Handcrafted. My eyes were the brightest shade of blue and my hair the brightest shade of white. I looked down at my neck and it was there. The same scar but it was much more red. Which means the picture was drawn just when I got the scar. This strange man was also there when I got the scar. I traced my fingers over the picture and the back of my neck tingled. The picture looked old but it felt very recent and I g

I asked, squinting my eyes trying to get a glimpse of the stranger. “Oh please I know more than your name bunny, I know everything about you” he said taking two more steps. “So you are a stalker then, how long have you been stalking me?” I panicked as I took more steps back. “I’m not a stalker bunny, I’m your nightmare” the voice said and just like the wind he disappeared into the shadows like he was never there, my heart sank into my stomach as his last words echoed in my head. I’m your nightmare.

Her eyes closed. Tabitha jerked up in bed. She could feel her body was soaked with sweat. What kind of dream was that? She looked over at Mark who was still asleep. She slowly got out of bed and went to the bathroom. She turned the water on and splashed it on her face. Her mind was still racing. She kept having these dreams but she didn’t know what they meant. Who was the guy in the dreams that she couldn’t see? She never could make out his face. And why was Mark always hurting her in the dreams?

I said, brushing away strands of hair from my face. "Nightmares do not make wolves sound like they're dying. This…sounded as though you were fighting for your life. Tell me, what was it?" His expression stiffened as his brows pulled into a frown. I looked at him, but the look in his eyes told me he would not let this go. I sighed and shifted against the bed while he settled beside me. "Would you believe me if I told you some nightmares are memories?” Dominic's brows knitted together in confusion.

The kind that says I see you and I am glad and this is everything and I will not make it weird. When she pulls back her eyes are doing something. "Do not," I say. "I am not doing anything," she says. "Your eyes are doing something," I say. "They are fine," she says, blinking rapidly. "Completely fine. Dust." "Hackney dust." "Notorious for it," she says.

I was someone who suffered from nightmares, but paradoxically, the darkness here, was calming. I dragged my feet towards his bed and that’s when I saw the frame on his nightstand, next to a Bible. This man owned a Bible? My curiosity fully took over from this moment. I flipped it open. Maxine Jackson. I frowned a closed it. Who was she? My eyes slid back to the frame and I picked it up. It was a picture of a young woman, probably in her early thirties. She had thick black hair and blue eyes. Alexander’s eyes were a dark grey, but the resemblance was uncanny. This was his mother and that Bible perhaps, was hers.

Arnold was still at the window. Still. Staring. Like some big-brother version of the Eye of Sauron fierce, judgmental, and very much ready to smite me into the next dimension. Aiden, on the other hand, took a slow step back, suddenly not so smug. His hands flew up like he was about to be arrested for murder. “Oh my God,” I whispered, panicking. “He saw. He definitely saw. I’m going to be killed. You’re going to be killed,” I said, whipping toward Aiden.