Lit.Org - a community for readers and writers Advanced Search

Average Rating

(1 votes)

RatingRated by

You must login to vote

I snapped awake, all my dials turned up to the max. What day was it? What time was it?

From somewhere in the house came a gigantic THUMP.
What the hell was going on?

I leapt to my feet as another bed-rattling THUMP shook the house. I heard someone yelling, their words torn away- as if by a strong breeze. Another gigantic THUMP, and someone screamed. It was a sound unlike any I have ever heard. As I stood, frozen, it came again- a terrible, gobbling shriek that was suddenly and cleanly cut off.
THUMP. The house shook. I flipped the light switch. Nothing. I padded over to the closet and opened up the doors; pawed through the collective junk in search of a light.

Aha! I flicked the cheap plastic switch and a bright circle appeared on the far wall. I tiptoed to the stairs, careful not to step in the places where they creaked. Slowly, I descended.

The house was quiet. I made for Leo’s room. His door was closed, and I moved to turn the knob, my heart hammering in my chest. Closer, and closer, and yet closer…

The moment before I threw his door wide, I heard something. At the time, I couldn’t identify it, but I am almost certain it was the sound of trees blowing in the wind.

I opened the door.

I cannot account for what I saw on the other side. It is beyond my reckoning. When I opened that accursed door, I saw not the room that had become familiar to me over my long years of residence in that house, but a barren, crumbling altar situated amidst grassy hills. There was a man on the altar. He his skin was pale as moonlight, and he was completely bald…I dare not guess who it was, though some part of me knows- will always know. And then-

I was looking at city made up of towering metal spires. In the middle distance, a great citadel stood, brooding like a dark and ancient god.

I saw a cemetery, sprawling and crumbled with age. Near a bank of dead trees was the silhouette of a man. I shrank back, terrified of being seen, and then-

It was the garden path, only now it was night and the moon shone through the vines overhead. There was a garden, but no woman. Where was-?

Something came hurtling through the doorway: A skinless, half-born horror with tangled black hair and gaping holes for eyes. It attacked me, flailing blindly with dirty claws, and raked a deep furrow in one of my cheeks. I kicked at it, my mind already retreating, and connected. The creature fell back, back, and into the doorway just as-

I passed out.

When I opened my eyes, it was nearly morning. I could see, from where I lay, the line of brightness on the horizon where the sun would shine in half and hour. I looked to my left and saw the door. It was closed. Something was moving beneath it. A thin, acrid mist reached my lungs.

Squelch, went something on the other side.

I leapt to my feet and ran, screaming, from my own house.

I have arranged for my house to be sold. I have also contracted a team of movers to take my possessions out of it. I will be moving far away, possibly to Florida. Wherever I go, I want it to be flat. I don’t trust mountains anymore. I will not go back into that room, though it is quiet now, and I have heard nothing more from the other side of the door. I will not sleep in this house, either. When the movers come, I will say nothing about the door. What could I say?
And if one of them should disappear without word or trace? Well, then I’ll know, won’t I?

I do not know where Leo Parish is. I do not want to know. I am leaving this town tomorrow, to find a place. Somewhere where the sun is bright, and the wind is warm, and there are no dreams.

None at all.


"Quit this world, quit the next world, quit quitting!" -Sufi proverb.

Related Items


The following comments are for "Dreamflesh- Part V"
by Beckett Grey

A nice job overall.

( Posted by: The Hal [Member] On: January 18, 2002 )

Wha wha what
Okay, so this guy is addicted to tattoos that i can undderstand, had to pry myself away from them as well. But man this one just played with my mind too much. The really trippy thing is this could happen, people sometimes let their dreams run away with them. oh well on to the next story

( Posted by: p.b. Hedwig [Member] On: April 4, 2002 )


( Posted by: Kine [Member] On: April 15, 2002 )

Add Your Comment

You Must be a member to post comments and ratings. If you are NOT already a member, signup now it only takes a few seconds!

All Fields are required

Commenting Guidelines:
  • All comments must be about the writing. Non-related comments will be deleted.
  • Flaming, derogatory or messages attacking other members well be deleted.
  • Adult/Sexual comments or messages will be deleted.
  • All subjects MUST be PG. No cursing in subjects.
  • All comments must follow the sites posting guidelines.
The purpose of commenting on Lit.Org is to help writers improve their writing. Please post constructive feedback to help the author improve their work.