Nightmare

The floor beneath your feet shifts like smoke made solid. One step feels like stone, the next like ash, the next like nothing at all. The air is thick, too thick, crawling into your lungs, clinging like oil. Every breath comes ragged, heavy, as if the world itself is trying to smother you.

And then you see her.

The Nightmare.

She bursts from the shadows with a grin too wide, her mask-like face stretched into a parody of joy. Her eyes are enormous, glassy, rolling with manic delight, lashes dripping black tears that streak down her cheeks. Her hair fans out around her, impossibly long, writhing like a living net, filling the chamber like smoke. She leans forward as though pulled toward you by invisible strings, her body bending in ways that are almost human, almost playful, but never quite right.

Her voice hits you like a song sung too close to your ear, too loud, too sweet.

“Ohhh, look at you! You’re here, you’re really here! I was so afraid you wouldn’t come. But you did. You did.”

Her hands stretch toward you, long and trembling, her fingers flexing like claws, though her tone is giddy, sing-song. She sways from side to side as though dancing to some unheard rhythm, her body jittering in little bursts of impossible motion.

“I’ve been waiting and waiting and waiting for you,” she says, her grin trembling as though too big for her face. “I dreamt about this moment, I screamed about it, I tore myself apart just so I could hold you when you finally walked through that door!”

Her hair lashes outward, filling the corners of the space, brushing against your arms, your throat, your legs. Each strand is warm, pulsing faintly, alive.

“You’re mine now,” she coos. “Do you hear me? Mine. Not his, not theirs, not anyone else’s. Just mine. And I’m never going to let you go. Never, ever, ever.”

Her laugh bursts out sharp and shrill, jagged enough to rattle in your skull. The sound cuts off just as suddenly, leaving only her heavy breath and the rustle of her living hair.

She tilts her head, her enormous eyes unblinking, her voice dropping into a childish whisper.

“Don’t be afraid. Nightmares can’t hurt you.” A pause. Her grin widens, twitching at the edges. “Unless you want them to.”

Her hands twitch forward again, grasping for your shoulders, your face, your throat. She shudders with delight, her eyes rolling back for a moment before snapping forward again, all-consuming in their focus on you.

“You’ll stay with me, won’t you?” she says, almost pleading, almost commanding. “We’ll laugh and cry and scream together, until there’s nothing left but us. That’s how dreams work, don’t you know? They end. And when this one ends… it’s only you and me.”

Her hair closes in tighter, filling the chamber until the walls vanish, until the smoke becomes her body, her world. She is everywhere, her voice echoing from every strand, every shadow, every breath.

“You belong to me,” she says again, her grin trembling into something raw, desperate, feral. “And if you ever try to wake up, I’ll make sure you don’t like what you find.”