Nightmares Poems Novels & Stories

He exhaled a deep breath and then rubbed his face with both of his palms. I waited for his next reaction but nothing came out from his mouth. He just stared at the floor. I licked my lips in hesitation and tried to figure out the strange expression he has on his face. "As long as I remember, sleep was never my thing because whenever I tried to sleep, I was afraid of having a nightmare." "See the irony the person who himself call as nightmare was really scared of them." He added and closed his eyes again. I quietly looked at him, waiting for his next words.

He just didn't want to see it. Now, on the forty-first night, the nightmare is worse than ever. His face is turning pale. His lips are blue. In his dream, he is drowning. I can feel it—the terror radiating from his small body like heat from a furnace. His heartbeat is a drum. His breath is a thread about to snap. I want to help him. I want to wake him up. I want to flip him over. But the blanket is pulled tight. And the rule is absolute.

As if it was there to remind me that I was an unlucky person right from the start. What other word could I use to describe my life? I lost both parents ten years ago, as if it was karma for what they had done to the boy who had been the main character of my nightmares for more than a decade. They were killed by my father’s own gang friends. The memory of it was terrible, and thinking about it every now and then still didn’t bring answers.

She doesn't like feeling weak. “Exactly. I am the Alpha of Nightmares. What is a common thing of nightmares?” he asked, his tone taking on a sinister quality as he leaned closer, claws starting to dig into my skin. “They are dark and terrifying?” I arched an eyebrow doing my best to maintain my bravado. I would not whimper for him. He obviously gets off on that shit.

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.

neo Apr 2015 werewolf thoughts at midnight there are bones between my teeth moonlight glimmering in my eyes dried blood in my nails, in my hair my head pounding (thump. thump. thump.) you know they say blood is thicker than water but that just means blood is more likely to stick in my throat coughing up family ties one by one glistening red memories, leaving only a metallic aftertaste sick nightmare fantasy of ripping open bodies im the monster in your fairytale stories lets do a bit of editing, perhaps? lets shred the whole **** book, perhaps?

Aidana and her mate. Sucking in a breath, I brave the read. If you're unlucky enough, a nightmare may not be just within your mind. It may lurk in the shadows, reside in the darkest part of your mind. However, in our Moon Goddesses life, the nightmare is the biggest part of it. Her mate.

I had failed her, despite promising myself that I wouldn't let her cry. My mood soured and I felt shittier than before. “Let's sleep.” She nudged, trying to place my back on the bed. I resisted. “Damon,” she sighed. “What if I have another nightmare?” I had had five nightmares in two days. I didn't think closing my eyes was a luxury I wanted to engage in anymore. It was as if the demons in my subconscious lurked around nearby, ready to yank me into darkness anytime I let down my guard and closed my eyes.

I didn’t need anyone finding out about this meeting. “No, I covered my tracks.” I followed Rook to a spot where he had hidden our two Nightmares. Nightmares are demonic horses that are black with manes and tails made of fire, their eyes are red and unless you are a demon, I wouldn’t recommend touching one. One touch from a nightmare could make you have horrific dreams for the rest of your life. They fed off fear and loved to torment the living. I mounted Amdis, my Nightmare. I've had had him since I was young, and he was loyal. The only one who could ride him was me. If another tried, they would end up seriously injured.

He introduced himself, "I'm Ronald Weeks, lady. Twenty-three years old, and I've just graduated from college. Oh, here's a gift for you." He took out a pot of mint, apparently from out of nowhere. The smell sobered me up, and I was half-amused. "It is Valentine's Day today. And you gave me this?" "Yes. I bought this for you," said Ronald earnestly. "Why?" "You're a beautiful woman, and yet you still came to this place on Valentine's Day. I'm sure you know that this place can give you something better than a relationship." No arguments against that. I grabbed Ronald's hand and asked him to drink with me. When I sobered up once more, it was already the next day. I found myself in an unfamiliar