Nightmares Book Novels & Stories

With a heavy heart, i realized what she was trying to convey. "I don't sleep," I said, my words filled with a haunting truth that sent a shiver down my spine. "My mind has the scary capability of being dark and demented." As she stared , i felt a surge of empathy wash over me, a deep understanding of the demons that haunted her every waking moment. I knew all too well the torment of restless nights plagued by nightmares, the fear of losing oneself to the darkness within. "They said all dreams do come true," she continued, writing on her book. "They forgot to mention that nightmares are dreams too."

Chapter 117 ~ Tracing new paths KYLIE'S POV "possessed? Why on earth would you feel like you're being possessed?" I asked, and she shoved the book under my nose. "There, read it." I looked at her with some concern before reading the book, "I woke up feeling very groggy and disoriented. Nothing feels right. I don't feel right. I keep having the same recurring nightmare over and over again. An old man is chasing me. Then he catches me and drugs me. When I finally come to, I'm being tied, with coven members chanting in a nearby circle. With every nightmare, the chants grow longer and longer. What happens when the chants finally reach their end?"

Once that was no longer the case, he could date whoever he wanted, and I couldn't care less. It was a pity Samuel didn't notice that. He was still banging on the door. I shook my head, put in my earplugs, and went to sleep. It was getting late, and the sleepy bug was catching up to me. Samuel finally ran out of steam about fifteen minutes later, giving the door one final thump in frustration. "You did this first, Noelle. Don't you ever regret this!" Threats wouldn't work on me. I was no longer a kid. I closed my eyes and slept. The next day, I met up with my attorney and served him the papers. I received no response, but I was sure he saw them.

Even after the moon waned and night turned to day, I continued to bite my nail, waiting for news from my mate but as the hours went by and I heard nothing, my anticipation and anxiety continued to mount. “I’m sure he is fine,” Beth said. “You should rest, Channy. Think of your baby.” Despite my mind being alert, I couldn’t deny the fact that my body was tired so I let her lead me to the only room in the sanctuary and coax me to sleep. With time, I could not keep my eyes open and the nightmares started. I had terrible nightmares on repeat. It was either I died or my mate died. In every dream where I died, I saw Dahlia towering above me, her eyes filled with malice as she stabbed into my stoma

Nia's POV I flopped onto my bed with a groan, burying my face in the pillow. The pit in my stomach twisted tighter with every second. I wasn’t sure if it was guilt or fear, probably both. Maybe I should’ve just gone in and pretended everything was fine, even though it clearly wasn’t. But pretending was exhausting. And I was tired. So, so tired.

Amber was getting ready for bed in one of the guest rooms and thinking about the plans for tomorrow. She knew this could be very dangerous, and they were going in this will be very little information about the Zombies that have now sprung about. She wondered when these poor people were turned to Zombies if they remembered their past or if they were a new slate, over run with the infection that had created them. She felt tired and wanted to lay down. The thought of sleep would be nice. However, the dream that may and most likely would come would make it be a less restful night. She only needed about 6 hours to really feel right with the world, but that was not guaranteed.

Around midnight she reached the section describing Meher's gradual decline. The whispers. The forest. The growing suspicion. The fear. A knot formed in her stomach. She kept reading. Then came the murder. The rain. The clearing. Meher's final words. I have only loved you. Aisha closed the notebook abruptly. The room felt too warm. For several moments she simply sat there staring at nothing. The tragedy struck harder than she expected. Not because it was real. Because it wasn't. Somehow that made it worse. A fictional murder should not have felt devastating.

"Deep down. Under the static." "Keep reading." Elion read. He read about the first time they cooked together. He read about the time Cale caught a glass before it hit the floor. He read about the way Cale looked at him when he thought Elion wasn't watching. "Entry 24," Elion read. "The Nightmares. Cale wakes up screaming. He dreams of fire. He dreams of drowning. But he never tells me why." Cale frowned. "Why didn't I tell you?"

“Don't think I have forgotten that ultimate day of misfortune when your fevered self spent the night in my chamber. Because I have not.” His lips pressed into a hard line as he resumed walking. “Now do me a favor and keep me out of your dreams.” That was where the trouble lay. My nightmares were not imagined. They were fragmented, distorted echoes of real events—memories my mind tried and failed to bury. Rarely meaningless terrors conjured by idle sleep. Still, I forced myself to shrug it off. He was probably right. On this, at least. “Since you are already here,” he added without looking back, “you may as well follow me. I will give you a ledger to return to Sesora.”

I stared blankly at the hospital ceiling for a long time, wondering if it was all just a dream or if I was… "You're awake? You collapsed from overworking yourself to exhaustion before your colleagues found you and sent you here. How are you feeling now?" Holding a clipboard, the nurse rattled off questions and quickly recorded my condition before rushing off. I pushed myself upright, and something fell from my arms. It was a brand-new notebook that was beautifully made and even carried a comforting scent. I pressed it to my chest, and only then, a wave of relief at having survived a great calamity washed over me. Everything was over. I'd woken up from that terrifying nightmare for good. … Wo