Your Worst Nightmare

Most children’s dreams consist of hearts and bunnies. I had ghosts and blood. But my fictional fairytale dreams became my reality. My worst nightmare became my realistic death.

My name is Charles Dickinson. I lived in a small suburban town 20 miles north of Philadelphia. 5 Emerald Lane Levittown, Pennsylvania in the last room all the way to the right, in the back, was the last place I lived.

My room was small and narrow. It was large enough for a wooden bunk bed, and a couple of drawers, but that's it. A solitary window looked out into our backyard and that too was small. The one window let limited amount of light into the room. I also used to share that room with my older brother. I would have nightmares when I was younger and he would comfort me. But then he left for college and that's when it all started.

It was the first night I was alone in my room. The first night I was allowed to sleep on the top bunk. That night I had a strange uneasy feeling creeping over me. I laid on the top bunk at eight feet staring at the toys left on my baby blue and navy carpet. In the corner of my eye I saw something moving in the bottom bunk. Something that did not wish to be seen.

The bunk was empty. It had to be. I made the bed this morning. I tucked the navy blue sheets neatly, tight against the mattress and placed two white pillows against the head of the board. I thought everything was fine as I saw the light coming from under my door as my parents were still awake, watching tv in the den, so I was safe.

I fell asleep.

I awoke from my deep slumber to something moving, stirring under me. I couldn't comprehend what was going on because my room was as black as the devil’s soul and I would barely see a thing as the fog of waking up was over my eyes and in my brain. But there was definitely something moving under me.

As the cobwebs of my slumber finally left my brain, I could finally comprehend the sound that I awoke to. The simple sound of bed sheets rustling under me had me feeling uneasy. It sounded as if someone was trying to get comfortable in bed flipping the pillows back and forth to find the cooler side of the pillow and the most comfortable angle to sleep. It would've been my dog but my door had still been shut closed and there was no light coming from the hall so my parents must have been asleep.

I turned to fall back asleep and faced the wall, closing my eyes hoping that I could fall back asleep. Just as I turned the rustling beneath me escalated. I thought I disrupted my dog but this was no barking. The rustling sounded as if a boy was under his sheets throwing a tantrum. Or was it a visitor tossing wildly and violently? Or was something trying to escape under the covers while twisting and turning?

And then it stopped.

I thought I heard something from the other side of the house and then all of a sudden the bunk beds began to shake violently. I grabbed onto my bed as tight as I could looking out terrified into the impenetrable darkness. It was like a 8.0 magnitude earthquake hit my room. I let out the loudest scream until my mom swung open the door entering the light from the hall and everything stopped and fell as it was before.

I sat in my bed petrified as my mom tried to comfort me but I wouldn't move until the sun rose and I decided I needed to get out of the house. I thought school would help distract me from what my parents thought was just a nightmare. It didn't. I was utterly distracted and every time I thought about the narrow room I had a creepy feeling crawling up my spine and out to each end of my hair. I also couldn't walk properly because I still felt the shaking from my bed. There was no way I was entering that suffocating room again.

The next night I slept with my parents. At 10 o'clock, I laid in between my parents with the warm giant comforter wrapped over us. My head sank into the pillow as I looked up at the outline of old metal ceiling fan spinning in the dark room.

I fell asleep.

That night I awoke to the sound of an a body dragging across our wooden floor. It stopped right in front of our door. Knocking on the door, it slowly creeped open as the loose screw squeaked. A man entered with a white glow around him. He was six and a half feet tall, he looked old and was a messy slob with ripped up old farming clothes, his leg was cut open and bent but no blood was dripping. He slowly started to walk towards the bed, arms straight out towards me.

As he got closer I began to see his face. His eyes were pure black like the fur of a panther, but they were shaped differently. They were two giant circles that took up most of his face. His mouth was small and opened and I could see his small but pointy sharp teeth peeking from his mouth. A hat sat over his grey thinned hair. And his hands were rough and big as they came to attach to my neck. They took up my entire small boy neck.

Again I was paralyzed, but this time I couldn't scream. His nails dug deep into the sides of my neck, piercing my veins. I stared back into his eyes leading into a black hole. A morsel of sun entered the room at 5 in the morning and the man was gone. And I sat in a puddle of my sweat. Tears ran down my eyes as I was terrorized. My parents finally woke to me crying and I asked what was wrong and I explained the man in the room but they thought I had another nightmare since there was no blood bleeding from my neck.

At school I felt weak and sick and came home early. I went back into the narrow, one-windowed room and laid on the bottom bunk of the bed. I was fatigued and weak from night before.

And I fell asleep.

I woke up and looked at my alarm clock which read 12:34 am. I slept for 11 hours straight and still felt the same fatigue as before. I also felt a presence of the thing that was having a tantrum in my bed two nights ago. Out of the mattress I felt a little boy’s hand grab my neck the same way the man did the night before, piercing into my skin. I turned and tossed under my sheets trying to escape his grip but he was as strong as that old man. I couldn't see if he was a young boy but I grabbed his hands trying to pull him off me and his hands were small. I kicked the sheets but I was falling into the mattress. This time blood began dripping from my neck into my bed on my sheets.

I looked up and saw blood on the top mattress as it dripped on top of my face. I heard rustling on the top mattress and my bed began to shake again. I was beginning to not be able to breath. Struggling to grab my last breath, I slowly began to sink into the bottom of my bed.

I now haunt anyone who enters 5 Emerald Lane and live with the the boy and the man and roam the streets of Levittown.

Now check your bed, I could be your next worst nightmare.

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