Nightmares
by Charles Pyke
Story I stand at the corner of an intersection, everywhere around me is dominated by fierce dog-faced demons, feeding off of humankind, and picking their fangs clean with the bones. I just stand here as a spectator until the grotesque creatures direct their attention onto me, and scurry like rampant rodents in my direction. When the hideous things slimy and swift, would just about reach me, the dream would shift, and instantly eject me from danger. But only to place me in the midst of another feeding somewhere else, where it would end the same as the last one, like a blasted cycle, or never changing Hell. I currently write this inside my padded room, and my grievances have been tended to, but every medication that I've sampled has not helped one bit. Still to this day I dream this dream, and I can only conclude that I'm hagridden, suffering a bleeding curse cast over me by some anonymous witch. Or maybe my nocturnal visions could be an omen of a damned future overrun by Demons from Hell, Hell on Earth, just like the Bible states. I will try to cope with these reoccuring, phantasmagoric nightmares, for a little while, but if they don't cease soon, I'll fetch my utility knife I have stashed away in a safe place, and slit my wrists. I pray this shit stops, and if it doesn't, I pray I won't be banished to Hell for eternity.
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