The darkness doesn't bother Them, They feed on the light.
So if you think leaving the flame burning or the lamp by your bed on will stop Them coming .. Don't bother.
You can't fight it... You can't fight the night.
Night is Their home and everyone loves the comfort of home.
It travel's through the darkness, past the late-night wanderers whose eyes grow weary of the day.
Another meal awaiting me..It thinks. It knows. It can smell tired. It can smell dreams.
Like smoke it travels.
Like fog It seeps through the window cracks, under the doors and through the hole in the roof no one has noticed.
And it waits.
From the dark It watches, silent and hungry as your eyes close.
A figure now recognisable emerges from the dark, a smile caught on the edge's of It's mouth.
Carefully It climbs your bed, hands resting on your chest.
Your breath catches and in your dreams you're running.
It enjoys this part. The chase. Like the scent of meat tantalising your nose.
It breathes in and your body stills.
Unable to move. A weight pressing down on you. But in your dream you're still running.
Fear. It likes that taste. Like adding salt to a bland meal, or spice to a dull one.
But Fear doesn't taste as good as terrified does. Terrified happens when it presses. Presses so hard on your chest it hurts.
And yet you still dream. Dream you are hiding from the thing that chases you, Hiding from the beast that smells you.
Red eyes. The scent of rotting flesh you can smell. The dripping of puss from open sores. The trembling of your hands. The quickening of your breath.
It's jaws find you. But your scream is silent to the waking world.
No noise fills your room. No noise escapes your lips. You are trapped .
It can taste your fear as It breathes the life from your lungs, drinks in the flavour as it reaches It's lips.
Nothing tastes better than a well done meal, It thinks.
This is not a dream. A nightmare. A nightmare made flesh.
HELP! This is the moment you cry but can't.
HELP! This is the moment you want to scream by can't.
Help..... It let's you open your eyes...
It smiles at you and you recognise It. It laughes and you recognise that. The nightmare on you chest!
This is the part it enjoys most. The final part. The part where It scrapes the plate.
This is the part where It shows you your worst fear, and it's not the monster in your closet that finally decided to attack.
For you see.. It likes remesembling It's victims. Because worse than being consumed by a monster in your final moment of life..
Is staring up at yourself, enjoying consuming you.
Afterall, Nightmares are people too,