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It was a Tuesday night when I realized my reality had come to an end. I thought my experience right before death would have been different. I didn't see my future whizz by in an uncontrollable flurry, no future wife or child appeared before me. My last visible memory consisted of a white wall painted by a greenish glow from my alarm clock.

I cannot tell you what occurred, or why I gave into that monster, but I will tell you the story from my point of view. Realize that my memory is fickle, and throughout the years I have bent my thoughts around this one event. Thinking back, I had become so bored with life, everyone spewing the same bullshit commentary passing off as insight into a topic completely unknown to them. Spreading useless ideas like viruses across the internet begging for attention from others. Normal life had become so monotonous and predictable, maybe I gave in because I simply wanted a change of scenery. Whatever the case something that night forced me to give up my humanity, and placed me in this cushy white room.

I lay on my stomach, my head turned away from my room. My arms lay to my sides at the edges of my bed. My legs spread-eagled touched each corner of my bed, taking in every inch of comfort from my new queen bed. If I hadn’t been so open that night maybe It wouldn't have come for me. Who knows, I was already at my mental tipping point after the accident three years prior, it pushed me the last extra bit down the rabbit hole.

When my eyes opened I immediately knew, I had of course been in this situation hundreds of times before. Every night Itvisited me in my dreams. In fact, I had become so accustomed to this recurring dream that I trained myself to recognize and ignore it. I was so numb to the dream that I would lay still waiting for it to end with blind indifference.

The dream was simple; I would be lying in bed and I would feel a presence behind me staring at my doorway and walking closer. In the past I would roll over and try and escape from my unnamable creation treading towards me. Being a dream though I was never able to get away, my motions were limited like walking through black tar. And in the end, It would grab me, and thankfully the dream would end. Covers would be thrown about everywhere, and I would be shivering with sweat. As the years, past, and this dream became a regular occurrence, I grew accustomed to it. The dream would check all the boxes of a nightmare, where I was unable to scream, move fast, or fight back. So, I wouldn’t roll over to greet It head on, instead, I would wait for It’s cold clammy hands to touch my shoulder so I could jerk awake and it would end. After settling my breath and heart, I could return to my sleep without worry or fear.

That night was different though, It toyed with me. At first, I found the dream fascinating. It was the first time in years this dream had changed. Things seemed different, more real. The usual boxes to check of a nightmare were not filled. There was also fact that before, I never been this aware during a nightmare. Normally my head would become clouded, ideas and actions wouldn’t seem clear. Now, in this dream I could feel my bed defined underneath me, the cover draped over my legs, the cushion engulfing my body, cool fabric pressed against my stomach. Then I became aware of the fact that it was still behind me. Standing still, not moving. While, I was no longer afraid of this dream I was becoming increasingly impatient to get it over with.

"Why wasn’t it coming up to me, waking me from my sleep like it was meant to?"

An uneasy feeling passed through my stomach. The problem must be that I show no fear, and it must sense that.

"But why now? Why wait all this time, and now change up the formula?"

It stood there silent. It’s presence brought a chill to my bare upper body and I became aware of how open my presence was. I am strewn out on my bed. Arms by my side, legs spread, no defense. I suddenly wanted to bring them in, curl into the fetal position, but something felt strange. For the first time in a long time, I was frozen in fear. I felt as if I could move but doing so would alert what was behind me and that was frightening. My breath became quick and shallow, my head pounded as my mind raced. Hairs on my arms and the back of my neck stood on end, something seemed to brush against my leg causing goosebumps to rise all over my body.

"It's my cat that's all, I am not even asleep, my brain is playing tricks on me." I kept telling myself, hoping it was true.

I felt It get closer to my back. The pit sank deeper into my stomach, blood coursed through my veins, and the fear of moving even an inch kept me still. It was right behind me, on the edge of my bed.

Then there was a pressure on my thigh and back, like a cold metal claw was grabbing me.

"It is a dream, nothing real" I kept trying to tell myself.  “My cat is changing positions on my back that's all."

The pressure was real, and it wasn’t a cat. It was hands, icy cold and moist, they slipped between my arm and body on the side of my rib cage. It was inside my last defense, I lay there; eyes closed, wishing to wake up. Never had a dream gone this far before, why wasn’t I able to calm down and let myself wake up. I shouldn’t have given it so much power over my mind.

“I should have woken up by now!" I screamed in my head praying that this dream would end.

Then, the cold claw grabbed my right arm tight with inhuman strength, and flipped me over so that I faced my horror. A good six inches separated our faces.  It stood about three feet from my bed but bent from the hip to peer down into my eyes. The things head was completely blank, a solid layer of pearly white skin as if all the blood had been drained. The skin seemed soft and bright like a woman's but with only a few human features. It took quick breaths through slits that could hardly qualify as nostrils. The nose stuck out about an inch from the head, pointy and long. Its mouth was only a slit, like someone had cut open the face with a razor.  There were no lips and it was sewn shut together with what appeared to be wire. No eyebrows existed on the face not even a wrinkle on the pristine flesh ruined its image.

The eyes though were the worst.  They were dark pits with no actual eyeballs. The sunken holes in the middle of the face seemed to look into my soul, dark blackness staring at me, as if it could see what I was hiding behind my clever facade. We looked back and forth and the staring match between this creature and myself went on for some time. I was too scared to move a muscle, even though every fiber of my being was telling me to look away and run. My mind raced through every possibility for escape.

Nothing was organized in my head though. Spits of thought flashed through my brain but they didn't last. Every thought was engulfed by fear in a matter of seconds.

My skin tensed, my muscles braced and every hair on my body stood on end. Every creek and whistle from outside my room rang like a cannon boom in my head. Fight or flight was trying to take over but something wouldn't let me give in just yet to my primal instincts. I couldn’t fight or run, all I could do was watch in horror as It peered into me, changed me. Those eyes dragging every bit of my soul out.

The thing’s head tilted to one side like a dog begging for scraps. It looked like It was trying to speak through It’s sewn lips. It's jaw moved up and down straining the stitches in It’s mouth, guttural groans were all that escaped from its throat, growing louder and fiercer. Until one violent screech from the beast ripped open the stitches. The stitches hung from the top lip because it was not the wire that had given way. The wire had ripped through the bottom of the month shredding the pristine the flesh. leaving It’s mouth pouring with blood as chunks of flesh and viscera were ripped off. The blood dripped from its chin onto my chest, the warm liquid ran down my cold body collecting in a red stain on my sheets. The dark crimson red clung to the pearl white flesh of It’s face like paint on canvas.

It opened It’s mouth and like the eyes, only blackness peered back. No teeth or tongue appeared and a gaping black hole was the only thing to greet my eyes. The darkness seemed to swallow all hope and life. As I looked more into that blank face I came to realize that this creature was more of a shell, empty inside.  I sat still then, not in fear or panic, but, in acceptance. This creature was going to eat me, not in a literal sense but it was going to take away my humanity leaving only empty shell to rot and die in blackness.

As I lay there being taken in by It, the more sanity I lost. I had become so tired of my life since the accident, bored day in and day out, all of it seemed futile. A change may bring a release and entertainment. Perhaps this creature had seen that I was an easy target, my mind already in distress. All I needed was a little push and it would have complete control over me.

So, I gave in and the creature sucked the last bit of self from me through those black eyes and mouth. The creature uttered one sentence before my mind went blank.

“You are empty, just like me, and now it’s your job search for others like us and bring them to me.”


“This just in, a shocking discovery at a local home in Olympia, Washington. A family found brutally murdered in their own beds. A neighbor found the graphic scene when mail started to pile up outside the home and went into check. Police are not releasing details of the murder but a quick look inside revealed a horrific scene. Each member of the family had been strapped to their beds, their wrists were slashed and blood drained leaving the bodies marble white. The eyes had been gouged out with what appeared to be hands leaving only dark pits, and their mouths had been sewn shut with wire. It is unclear whether the mouth and eyes were done post-mortem but one can only hope. Police have arrested one suspect who was found at the scene of the crime. The oldest brother was covered in his family's blood when discovered. He repeated three words while they arrested him, -They are free-. Our hearts truly go out to the friends and family members of this poor household. I truly hope that this community can rebuild after such a vicious crime.”


Ian currently lives in Washington state writing only when time provides. He began to write during his teenage years as a way to express himself and has continued to this day out of pure enjoyment. He loves to write but considers it nothing more than a pastime. His dream would be to publish a book or write screenplays for television.


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