Heeey! This is just something I slapped together for my English homework. Hope you enjoy!
Before switching off the light, Eathan pushed to bedroom door partly ajar, just as Seb liked it. It creaked. He really needed to get that oiled. Yellow light streamed through from the corridor outside. The light had to be on for the whole night. Just as Seb liked it. He crossed the room to his son's bed to tuck him in. As he folded the duvet around Seb's small body and kissed his forehead, Seb spoke. "Daddy?" Asked Seb. "Check under the bed for monsters" Just to humour him, Eathan crouched down and peered under the bed. A strangled gasp escaped his throat as his eyes adjusted to the gloom. A small child was huddled there, eyes wide, clothes dirty. Seb. He whispered, shaking with fear, voice hoarse from thirst. "Daddy, there's someone on my bed."
Trembling, heart threatening to explode out of his chest, breathing erratic, Eathan rose. The creature, perched on the duvet like a spider, grinned at him, revealing a black maw stretched across its distorted face, pointed fangs gleaming. "Well?" It crooned, claws unfolding, yellow unblinking stare mocking. Eathan stood fixated as the creature descended.
Arthur was dreaming. He could tell because he couldn't move, and wasn't entirely sure he even had a body in this dream form. He was in a bedroom, a child's bedroom. He could tell because of the scribbled pictures hung on the walls, the duvet patterned with rockets, birthday cards wishing… Seb? Yeah, he was called Seb. A happy 6th birthday. But the bed was empty, and the sheets were ripped into shreds. On the floor, there was…there was…a thing. A man. But he was barely recognisable- the skin from his face had been scraped off, leaving raw, angry flesh, and there was a gaping hole in his stomach, oozing glistening lumps. Crouched over the man was…a creature, its back to Arthur. It was small, and childlike, hairless, naked, with greyish skin, almost transparent. Gouging deep gashes in the man with filthy claws, tearing out fatty chunks and guzzling them, making slurping noises and famished grunts as it crammed and stuffed more into its mouth. Then it stopped. Cocked its head. The head turned fully around, yellow eyes triumphant, bloody mouth grinning. Right at him. Lifted a bony finger. Beckoned.
Arthur sat bolt upright, smacking his head on the bedpost. Swearing under his breath, seeing stars, he started shaking as he recalled his dream. Cold sweat poured down his face. It was just a dream. As light was finding its way into the room under the door and through the gaps between the curtains, Arthur guessed it was about 8 o'clock. He wrapped a blanket around himself for warmth and went downstairs, clutching the banister to steady himself. As usual, the daily newspaper was outside the door. Like he did every morning, he scooped it up and went to the kitchen to make himself a cup of tea. He glanced down at the newspaper to see if there was anything interesting to read. And stopped. Stared at the headline. BRUTAL MURDER: Eathan Rosa, son Seb missing! Oh no. Did I dream that? No, it's just a coincidence.
Arthur returned home from work shattered. He hadn't been able to get much done that day. His mind was conflicted, the dream and the newspaper whizzing through his brain. After a quick meal of microwaved lasagne, he brushed his teeth and headed for bed, crossword in hand. But it wasn't long before the crossword fell to the floor and he slipped into fitful sleep.
Arthur was dreaming again, in another bedroom. This time, a lump under a blanket proved the bed was not empty. He advanced. Wait. I'm not walking! Why am I moving? He looked down at his body. Except it wasn't his. It was a grey, almost transparent body, twig like legs almost too thin to support it. Claws extended- Claws? Arthur was powerless in this body, a passenger, watching a film. Except he was inside the film. And the claws were getting dangerously close to the lump on the bed. He licked his lips. No! It licked his lips. It's not me. But he knew what was going to happen as the woman on the bed twitched and screamed in agony, being torn apart and devoured, feasted on, white duvet slowly turning red. Arthur couldn't even close his eyes to shut out the scene.
Arthur woke, heart thudding. Just lay there. Breathed deep breaths. Contemplated the dream. No. Shut it out. Feeling weary, he went to collect the newspaper. I hope there's something in there to cheer me up, he thought. But as he read the headline, bile rose in his throat, and dizziness overtook him. He hobbled to the bathroom and threw himself in front of the sink as his stomach emptied itself. He only just made it. The newspaper lay abandoned on the floor, face up. ANOTHER MURDER: Justine Lemonburg[LP1] found dead in bedroom!
What am I doing? Arthur asked himself, as Mr Decker droned on. At first, he had listened somewhat intently when the priest had told him he was predicting the future in his dreams, but the moment he started to pray and encouraged Arthur to as well, he had tuned it out. "I'm sorry," he said, shaking his head and raising his hands, ignoring the priest's enraged cries. "I can't be part of this." Why did I come to the church? I don't even believe in God! He backed away, face hot and flushed, and hurried home, going so fast he almost tripped over, never looking back.
Arthur jolted awake, terror coursing through his veins, giving way to suspicion. Sweating, he put his hands to his face. A sharp pain made him jerk them away. Several indents on his hands were beginning to drip blood. Puzzled, his brows furrowed. And then it came to him. His eyes opened wide. The holes were almost the shape of- the shape of…of…teeth. "NO!" Arthur screamed. "Yes," crooned a voice in his mind.
"NO! I am Arthur Brook, and I'm a normal person. I go to work, I read the news, I sleep at night."
"Who are you?" Whispered the voice, "You are mine," it taunted. "You're a murderer! Can you remember what you did last night?"
"SHUT UP!" Bellowed Arthur. "'I'm not…I didn't" But he could remember. Claws ripping flesh, fangs tearing through bone, blood streaming. Who am I? "You are mine," it cackled.
Arthur came to. Lying on the floor. And then he remembered. He had to know. He had to know the truth. He staggered to his feet, but his pounding head brought him crashing to the floor. Eyes slit with pain, he began dragging himself along. Heaved himself into the bathroom. Reached for the mirror. It fell off the table and smashed. He grabbed one of the bigger shards, merely wincing when the jagged edge sliced his palm open. Bringing the shard to his face, he saw.
The leering grin, the yellow eyes, the stretched, black, gaping mouth. Knife- sharp teeth, dripping with blood. His blood. The mouth moved.
The light outside withered to nothing.
Hope you liked it! Don't forget to leave a review and constructive criticism- I'm always open to ideas :)
Anyway see you guys soon!