The Nightmare Years Book Novels & Stories

As the first light of dawn painted the sky, Drew and Jette faced the uncertain day ahead—a day that held the promise of unraveling the mysteries that lingered in the shadows of dreams and the echoes of a past that seemed to resurface in the most unexpected ways. The dawn broke with hues of soft pinks and golds, casting a gentle glow upon the apartment as Jette and Drew sat on the edge of their bed, grappling with the residual unease from the night's disturbance. The old journal, a silent witness to the unfolding events, lay between them like a bridge between reality and the inexplicable. "Drew," Jette began, her voice tinged with a mixture of apprehension and determination, "the book from my

Monday night, Ruth had one of those nightmares that psychoanalysts love to make a big deal out of. She dreamt that she was... no, it wasn't she. She dreamt that she was someone else, and she was naked in a public place, with everyone staring and pointing and making noise. She had some books, and a large notebook, and she tried to cover her breasts and crotch, but she dropped them, and people laughed when she couldn't cover herself with her hands. It was a frightening dream. It was just a fragment, really. Ruth figured that everyone has a dream like that sometime.

She thought deeply for a while, sat up and began to write again: " Hi dear diary, tomorrow is my birthday but tonight is my meeting with my demons. I am scared, mom says I should pray, Aunt Ann said the same thing but I don't believe in it anymore. I don't even know how to pray; I'm mad at God. Aunt Ann says it's wrong to blame God but I can't help it although I do not say it out loud. I want to stop blaming God. I think these demons are to blame after all. Dear diary, I ain't sleeping tonight not because I don't feel sleepy, but because I want to break record, I want to be able to say I didn't have any nightmare on the night preceding my birthday for the first time in seven years. I want to

I was 15 when everything changed. I was completely unprepared for my entire life to be upended. No one was. I still remember the expression my Dad had when he realized that what was happening. My nightmares won't let me forget. That face haunts my nights and then I wake to the real nightmare, my new life. Let me back track though, we'll start at the beginning.

After the boys had left my room, I went through my bag and pulled out my favorite book, Night Flame, by Catherine Hart. I sat back in my chair by the window, prepared to spend the rest of the afternoon reading when a shiver ran down my spine. I jumped out of my seat and spun around to see a pair of yellow eyes glowing in the corner of the room. As those eyes drew closer to me, I realized that it was Simon, the fae that came to warn me the other day.

Jess sat up right and once more it was pitch black, that’s when jess understood what this was. “My nightmares.” Jess whispered, her voiced echoed in the darkness, but it was as if Jess had just said the key for everything to explode. Every single one of her bad memories, jumped out of the dark, young Jess sitting with her dead mother, trying to clean her wound, hoping she will wake up if Jess just keeps pressure on it. Her Father chasing her, beating her, screaming at her. Her beast tormenting her once again. All the Jess’s, the young ones or the older ones, each one of them that cried out in pain as they were being cut, burned or beaten, each Jess that was ever told how she should just die,

TIFE OKUWOBI. ONE THOUSAND YEARS ONE THOUSAND YEARS. Copyright©2020 by Tife Okuwobi. All rights reserved. No part of this book maybe used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission. Address at ayooluwapelumiolorunlolope@g***l.com. TIFE OKUWOBI. ONE THOUSAND YEARS ONE THOUSAND YEARS. Copyright©2020 by Tife Okuwobi. All rights reserved. No part of this book maybe used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission. Address at ayooluwapelumiolorunlolope@g***l.com.