Seven Little Nightmares Novels & Stories

Lena was five years old when the nightmares started. Alina woke to her daughter’s screams echoing through the hall. She was moving before consciousness fully returned, Kaden right beside her through the bond. They found Lena sitting up in bed, golden light pulsing from her small hands. Her eyes were open but unfocused, seeing something that wasn’t there. “Lena, wake up,” Alina said, kneeling beside the bed. “Baby, it’s just a dream.” Lena’s eyes focused. The light faded. She threw herself into Alina’s arms, sobbing.

“You have survived the mafia, assassination attempts, being blown up and Caelum’s mother. Motherhood will be a breeze." We both knew that wasn't true, but it was sweet of her to say. “What’s it like to have nightmares?” the nightmare started in the fourteenth week. The same terror every night, but in different guises. Gregor discovering our home, coming through our unlocked door. Hurting the baby when I had no power to protect her. Thing I would put on that list: Killing Caelum in my presence. Sometimes I would wake up screaming, sometimes crying gently, always alone in our too big bed.

Faith's Pov: I woke with a gasp, my chest tight as if I had just run a marathon in my sleep. The nightmares were relentless, plaguing my every dream. I hadn’t had a peaceful night’s sleep since I was a child. Every time I tried to close my eyes, I was pulled into a nightmare that felt too real, too vivid. I blinked rapidly, my gaze falling to the alarm clock next to my bed. Three in the morning. Of course. I groaned in frustration, flopping back down onto my pillow, my body a tangled mess of frustration and exhaustion.

A lullaby hums in a voice not your own Sung from the mouths of the buried and dead A faceless thing grins in the wide doorway Stretching its arms, your escort inside Your name is etched on a tomb with no grave A jagged whisperer, an icy brace Your heart beats loud, but not for long Run, run, but your feet won't move The darkness wraps its chains around you I said grin forms in the blackest shade Time runs out, and so will your veins The bells don't toll; the clocks don't chime Only the sound of the end of time Your Shadow melts your hands turn cold The nightmare sings as it takes hold I'm sorry to say, but this is the end Your breath is stolen; no need to pretend A door creaks open; the void

Mom glances over at me with a curious look and then states, "Breakfast will be ready in a minute. I threw some cinnamon rolls in the oven and they still have a minute or two before they are brown." Smiling, I reply, "Oh, that sounds yummy mom. Thanks." Sitting down at the table, I wait patiently as I drink my orange juice. Mom glances over at me again and asks, "Did you have anymore nightmares last night?" "Yes, I don't know what is going on. Ever since Billie gave me Charlie, I have been having this same bad dream over and over. It is so real that I peed the bed, I'm sorry."

She was never going to surrender to him; he bought her, but he couldn't buy her life. She was going to make sure she made his life a living nightmare. She was going to make him regret ever buying her and let her go. Yes, he was going to release her himself when he got tired of her. She grinned; he didn't know what he bought. He had just purchased a nightmare, and that nightmare was hers.

The next day David woke up early since it was Saturday he had nowhere to go. He He decided to go and check up on Stella and admit his feelings for her. He decided to stop being a coward and take responsibility for her pregnancy. He was ready to do anything for her to forgive him and give him a second chance. He went to her door and was about to knock when he heard her talking but this time it seems like her constant nightmare she always tell him about. He opened the door and went inside and Tru to his thought she was having a nightmare. He walked up to her on the bed and woke her up cuddling her. "Is okay baby. I'm here don't be scared." He started coaxing her when she started crying. "David

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.

[Welcome to Eternal Nightmare. Survival is victory.] The cold, robotic female voice blasted through the dark while I was sprawled on the couch doomscrolling. The next second, a white flash nuked my vision and forced my eyes shut. When I opened them again, my living room had straight-up rage quit and turned into a blood-red wasteland. "Okay, what the hell?" I squinted and spotted my six-foot-two husband, Adrian Chase, already doing the whole protective-dad thing with one arm around our son.

But still they came, drawn by memory and loss and the ache of absence that never quite faded. "Tell me something," Vera asked. "Something I don't know about her. Something from before I was born." They thought. A century of memories, most shared countless times. But finally, Dimitri spoke: "She used to have nightmares. Even after years as Luna, even after therapy and healing. She'd wake up thinking she was back in Project Seventh, panicking about missions. And every time, she'd calm herself the same way—counting us. One, two, three. Alexei, Dimitri, Nikolai. She'd count until the fear passed."