Nicemare, Part 3
This Weekly Dose of Fiction has 4 parts. In Part 1, Ben Shearer can’t sleep for fear that the chasing shadow in his nightmare will catch him. He’s exhausted and screws up at work, then is fired. In Part 2, he loses his fiancée, is kicked out of his apartment, and winds up on the street. He contemplates suicide. He doesn’t see any future. However…
Part 3
No matter how he fought to keep his eyes open, his mind alert, the darkness rose around him like a tide, and he fell into sleep’s unmerciful grip.
And again, he was running.
His shoes slapped against the warped stones of the dream-street, the air hot and humid like a beast’s breath. Buildings towered and twisted above him—crooked, shifting things that blocked out the sky. He knew this path too well. Knew exactly when the corner would break into a dead end. Knew the sound that would come next.
Footsteps.
Behind him.
Heavy. Certain. Coming faster.
Ben ran harder. His lungs burned. His ribs ached. The world tilted. Every nightmare was worse than the last. With each nightmare, the creature gained another foot.
This time felt final.
Image by Gerd Altmann from Pixabay
He turned sharply, careening down a narrow alley that pulsed with an unnatural red glow. The stones beneath him trembled. He heard a voice coming from behind—low, deep, vibrating the air. I’m close.
His foot caught on something—a loose stone, a crack. He stumbled, hitting the ground hard. Pain spidered through his knee. He tried to push himself up.
The footsteps were right behind him.
Ben screamed and forced himself forward, and at that moment, the alley collapsed.
Not metaphorically. Literally. The walls folded in like closing jaws. The ground cracked open. He tumbled, falling through darkness and heat and…
Light?
A pinpoint of brightness, far below, shimmered like a lantern. As he plummeted toward it, his only thought was that he was about to die. He braced himself for the collision. Instead, he landed softly. When he caught his breath, he found himself seated on a single, overstuffed, brightly colored cushion in the middle of an astonishingly ordinary room. A cozy living room, in fact—warm with welcome, walls full of books, shelves of little trinkets, the scent of vanilla drifting through the air.
“What the—?”
“Oh, good! You made it.”
Next Wednesday, The End
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I'm intrigued!!
Had to laugh out loud at this one. Btw, have had similar dreams. Thankfully, I woke up. Can't wait to read Part 4.