There was once a distant glow in an old and forgotten forest. It was waiting for one who would never return. It made her sad and she wanted to walk up close to the glow so that it wouldn’t be so lonely anymore, but no matter how long she walked for, or how quick: the glow never got any closer. She tried calling out to the lonesome glow, but her voice didn’t make any sound, this made her really sad and so she started to cry, in silence. Her tears fell out as sparks and suddenly the glow disappeared…
Eerie shapes shifted in the tree line. Every time she tried to focus her eyes on one shape, another would move, catching her attention. This happened for so long that her eyes started to burn. With every second that passed the pain grew worse and worse; she was unable to blink, unable to rub at her eyes, unable to scream. A quiet murmur rose from the forest’s moss floor, getting louder and louder in a cacophonous crescendo as the tall, dark trees closed her in. The murmur howled up to a deafening roar as she was trapped between tree trunks, making her ears bleed. Panic, like wildfire, spread through her nerves as she was unable to move – her breaths quick and shallow. The sturdy trunks squeezed her lungs breathless, digging dagger-like into her sides and ribcage. The air grew stiff and the sunlight grey as everything fell silent: a morbid diminuendo.
A monster. It peered out at her from behind a broken tree. It was long, unnaturally stringy, and had sickly, dark-green coloured skin covered in black blisters and scabs. She felt a wave of unspeakable terror wash over her as the thing silently approached, licking its cracked, dead lips with a serpent-like black tongue. As it profusely licked, droplets of its saliva flickered out and stuck to the area around its mouth and chin like a sickly, evil tar.
When it drew close, the being hunched over face-to-face with her. Through her tears she could just about make out its features: it had a sagging complexion, like that of an elderly man; its eyes were tiny bony sockets as black as the midnight ocean and its wrinkled droops of ears were half-covered by a mess of wispy white hair. It seemed like the being was frozen in place when without warning it gently stuck one of its stringy fingers into her mouth. She gagged in reflex, the texture felt like crisp bark on her tongue and tasted of mould and mildew. She started to dry heave as the crusted finger jammed deeper and deeper down her throat. Vomit was beginning to rise when without warning the monster clamped her jaw shut with its other hand, smashing most of her baby teeth to splinters and severing its own finger in her mouth. It held her mouth closed and placed one of its mouldy ears against her throat until she had no choice but to swallow. As soon as it heard her choking, it quickly smothered her forehead with the bloody black stump of its finger and quietly walked away deeper into the forest. The pine trees loomed high above and seemed to sway in delight to her torment.
This she dreamt as she shifted in the arms of sleep…
The moment Hannagh’s eyes flickered open she had the unnerving sensation that something was terribly wrong. A lurid shadow of a tree danced silently across plaster on the pale moonlight and the black beady eyes of her guardian teddy bear looked back at her coldly. She couldn’t do anything but listen to the ringing silence for a few moments; everything was in focus. The room seemed to get darker and darker; she was afraid to move, to blink, to breathe; she didn’t quite know why.
After what seemed like an eternity, she made an effort to gently turn over onto her side, careful not to make any noise, the movement alerting her to the fact that she was drenched in a horrible warm sweat that clutched to her hair and pyjamas like paint. Still groggy and confused by the dream, an instinctive warning flared up from the back of her mind: ‘Get out of bed!’
Quickly throwing aside the weighted blanket, she jumped out onto the carpet and stood in front of the nightstand’s silhouette frozen. A maddening sensation that something was crawling down her spine caused her shoulders to involuntarily hunch forward and her arms to lurch awkwardly to the side. Her own shadow joined the morbid dance on the ceiling, warped and contorted, resembling a scene from an old, silent vampire film her father would occasionally watch: Nosferatu. Sweat dripped from her arms and face down to the carpet and the feeling of uncomfort was unshakeable. Down in the darkness a black pool had formed at her feet, soaking the soles of her pink, star-speckled socks. She could feel the warm sweat vaporize from her body and pyjamas, stifling the air around her and noticed a foul odour as one of her shaky hands fumbled out to find the bedside lamp’s on switch.
A loud click clunked, then a quick flickering flash blinded her. Instinctively, she shielded the sting of her eyes in the palms of her hands. She had glimpsed at the sight that awaited her but didn’t want to acknowledge it: it just couldn’t be real. Her fears were realized when her eyesight returned.
Splattered all over her overturned bed covers was a viscous liquid sharing the vivid hue of fresh blood. A sharp wad of bile rose from the bottom of her throat, and she had to fight back the urge to vomit. For a moment she was stunned; she didn’t know what to do.
Automatically she thought of running to her parents’ room and took two languid steps towards the bedroom door. Her pyjamas clung to her skin and her socks squelched against the soft carpet, leaving a mess of drenched bloody footprints behind her. She had almost touched the door handle when, from the corner of her eye, she caught her reflection in the vanity set across the room. She was blotched a dark crimson in the mirror, the warm, blood-like liquid rolling down her face and body, pulsating in an irregular rhythm: thum-thump-thump, thump-thum-thump.
‘Ah! I’m bleeding!’ The realization hit her like a kick to the stomach. An overwhelming surge of panic shot through her nerves and even though she felt winded and breathless, she trembled and managed to force out a frightening scream.
After another hysterical scream, muffled footsteps came from down the hallway, getting closer before her father burst into the room. He quickly scanned around before looking at Hannagh, who was now quietly sobbing to herself. Confused, he picked her up and asked, “What’s wrong honey?”
His velvety housecoat felt rough in her grasp. “The blood… Everywhere… On the bed!” she cried, pointing to the covers before burying her head into his shoulder.
Seeing that she was distraught, he gave her a slight hug for comfort, his chin scratching the side of her temple. “Goodness! You’re soaked!” he said, withdrawing his hand from her damp curls. He shuffled over to the bedside with Hannagh in his arms and looked over the mattress and duvet with concern. With a slight disapproving shake of his head, he turned to her, “There’s nothing here on the bed, except for a puddle of-”
“But I saw!” she interrupted, “I swear dad. It was there and then it was all over my clothes and the carpet…”
“Okay, okay, relax, let’s take a look,” he braced her in the crest of his elbow and pointed toward the area where she was standing when he came in. “There’s nothing on the carpet honey.”
“But- I saw!” she sobbed.
He sighed, “Hannagh, dear, how many times have I told you that you should always use the bathroom before you go to bed? You’ve seemed to have had a bit of an accident there,” a hint of sternness chequered his voice.
She stared at him curtly, almost in disbelief, quickly trying to make sense of everything in her head, “When I woke up I- I- felt horrible, like something was wrong. And in the dream, there was a monster- it…”
His patience wore thin. Annoyed at being woken up for nothing he groggily stated, “Don’t worry honey, it was just a bad dream is all. Go clean yourself up and put on a change of pyjamas, then you can jump in beside me and mam.” He gave her another hug and when he was sure she was across the hallway and couldn’t see his face, he rolled his eyes in contempt. He sighed as he pulled out fresh bed sheets from the drawer. There was quite a mess to clean up. He was very tired…
Copyright © 2024 Giuseppe Gillespie
Giuseppe Gillespie Writing 
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