Poem Nightmare Novels & Stories

Charlotte’s POV I woke with a start at half past two. My heart was pounding, and I’d broken out in a cold sweat at some point during my nightmare, making my hair stick to the back of my neck. Another nightmare. Just like most nights. I sighed, having grown all too used to the feeling by now. My dreams were often plagued with images of blood and undeveloped lips forming the word: “Mommy”. My miscarriage. It never got easier, even if the nightmares were routine by now. Usually, I managed to fall back asleep, but this night had been a little worse than normal. I decided to make myself some tea.

I lie on the bed inhaling deeply and the smell is much stronger here. My heart races with the thought of someone breaking into my home and the dread in me intensifies seeing a black note on the side of the table. Ice grips me as I stare at the cursive words written in red. Caged in a nightmare. Fear the darkness, Unknown to the eyes. The flower spreads poison, just as ocean drowned the love.

The room felt suffocating, and beads of sweat clung to my skin, evidence of the turmoil within. I slowly opened my eyes, the remnants of the nightmare still haunting my thoughts. The moonlight filtered through the window, casting an ethereal glow that did little to dispel the lingering darkness. I sat up, the sheets clinging to my damp form. The nightmares were a cruel reminder of the pain I had endured, the scars that ran deeper than the physical wounds. I yearned for solace, a respite from the haunting memories that danced on the edges of my consciousness.

How can they have so many lights and not hear the song? The song they sing is sad. It calls to me, begging for release. They want to die. They all want to die. I hear you. I am coming. I am sorry I did not know you were here this whole time. The door opens. This is no dream. It is a nightmare. I wake up. And I scream.

But those dreams lay shattered now, scattered like shards of glass upon the cold, unyielding floor. For the night had passed, leaving nothing but emptiness in its wake. And she was left to pick up the pieces of her shattered heart, alone in the cold light of dawn. he night etched itself into her memory with an indelible, horrifying mark. It wasn't just memorable; it was a night that would haunt her for years to come, a night she would never be able to forget no matter how hard she tried.

I could hear my heart pounding inside my chest and my vein thumping in my throat. "So before taking another wrong step think about your little friend here," he spoke. He had filled the remaining distance between us and towered over me. I looked at Claire, who was staring back at me. This man has destroyed everything of me before and now, he was back to destroy me. You must be wondering who this man was and why was he after me. So, let's start from the beginning. This story began about a year ago. On my birthday night, that night which became my worst nightmare. I remember it as if it only happened yesterday.

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.

“For some, I guess I would. Sweetheart, this is not something I would want to bring you into, but I have no other choice.” “I get that. Always trying to protect me. However, this time I think I need to know so I can help you. Something is clearly bothering you.” She said as she looked into the golden pools of his eyes, and she almost forgot why he was there. She had to shake her head, and she knew she could not get distracted by his eyes and the wonders contained in them. “This is not something that is normal, either.” He stated as he looked at her. “A nightmare.”

Not the kind of scream that comes from terror, but the kind that claws its way out of you when your mind decides to betray you, when it tortures you with a memory you want to bury but can't. The kind of scream that makes you feel small, helpless, and betrayed by your own body. People call it a nightmare, as if giving it a name somehow makes it poetic. But there's nothing poetic about it. Eventually, her screams quietened down, I didn't move, didn't dare acknowledge it. I pretended to sleep until I finally drifted off for real.

Every time I think I’ve buried those memories deep enough, they find a way to resurface, like ghosts determined to drag me back to places I’d rather forget. My past has turned into my worst nightmare, a relentless torment that refuses to loosen its grip on me. Lately, sleep has become a rare and fragile thing. Whenever I do manage to close my eyes, I’m plagued by nightmares that feel all too real. Faces, voices, moments I wish I could erase—they all come rushing back the moment I let my guard down. The darkness isn’t just in my dreams; it’s woven into the fabric of my thoughts, tainting even the briefest moments of peace.