Lucid

“Can you see him?!”
Shouting into the darkness, the little boy cowered against me, pulling the covers up to his neck. Fear shivered through him.
Panicking, he yelled again.
“He’s right there! Can you see him too?!”
Looking into the abyss, I laid eyes upon the little boy’s fear.
The gasp escaped me before I could catch it. Terror shot through me. The air went cold and my skin prickled in waves as goosebumps erupted across my body.
There he stood. I could see him.
Nothing more than a towering silhouette, this being was not a man.
In the dark I could see him clearly. He was not shadow like the night. He was pure darkness.
Black.
Featureless, the being stood watching me. It was not here for the boy.
Suddenly, it moved forward. Each step it took closer dragged me nearer to death.
The little boy’s screams echoed as it came upon me. Thrashing wildly, I desperately tried to fight it off.

It was morning. I’d survived.
My uncles had come to my room, asking me to relive last night’s events.
Still hoarse from the screaming, I spoke reluctantly. Fear resurfaced with every painful word.
Too raw and too vivid, images struck panic.
I thrashed and screamed, backing into the wall.
I’d descended into hysteria.
My uncle threw his arms around me, pinning my arms to my side.
Writhing in struggle, I fought to break his hold. I tried to elbow and bite.
From far off, words sounded.
“She’s mentally ill.”
Suddenly, nothingness consumed me.

I had no thoughts. I did not exist. I had no conscience.
There was just silence.

Like a signal fired, a light went on as what felt like ceramic collided harshly against my wrist.
The veil of emptiness lifted and I came to, standing over someone.
I woke up. I became lucid.
Confused and disoriented, I looked around.
I was in the room. So was my entire family.
Gazing at their faces, I could see frustration and exhaustion etched in their expressions. They all looked defeated.
Mother sat at the door, staring out vacantly.
“She’s mentally ill.”
My brother’s tired voice carried from a corner. Momentarily, I was transported back to being subdued by my uncles.
My wrist throbbed, jerking me back to the present.
Realization struck – I was encircled.
They were all watching me in heavy silence.
I looked to the floor, noticing the shattered china littered across it.
As I bent down, attempting to pick up the pieces, I stop.
My quiet, uncertain voice penetrates the silence.
“Did…I do this?”
The man I now knelt before, ran his hand through his hair in pained thought.
“Yes.”
Mother exhaled heavily, still facing away.
Thoughts swarmed my mind.
How did I get here? What have I been doing? How long has it been? Where have I been? What’s wrong with me?
Reassuringly, he placed his hand on my shoulder.
I choked out tears before I’d known they were coming.
Through sobs, I wailed into the room.
“I’m sick!?”
Desperation coursed through me. I needed someone to tell me it wasn’t true.
“Mom!?”
My call was shrill and frightened, but Mother did not turn.
I cried for someone. Anyone.
Nobody spoke up.
I curled up on the floor, crying in the circle of my broken family.
My wails were uninterrupted. Nobody lent a hand.
Mother stared still out the door.
They’d seen this already. I’d been lucid before.
This wouldn’t last. They’d stopped trying. It hurt them too much.
My brother’s voice was barely a whisper.
“She’s mentally ill.”

Seduced by Sandman

Nightmare after nightmare proves Sandman is relentless.
Nightly, terrors stretch my emotions ’til I’m forced to wake.
He holds my face gently, caressing my skin as I writhe, groaning into the silence.
He takes me places I’d never go and shows me things I didn’t want to see.
Look, or he’ll force me to.
Run, or it’ll catch me.
Face, or it’ll hurt me.
Torment plagues my unrest, but I rise unscathed.
And I recall.
Images, sounds, sensations and emotions felt so real and so true.
Here, I will share these with you.