Three Bitty Monsters (REWRITE)(DISCONTINUED)

Three Midnight Monsters

You are standing in a dark plain, there is no light, yet you can see.

No warmth, yet you can not see your breath.

And you are being pulled down.

You tried to fight it, but a cold, black goop wraps around your legs and pulls you.

You feel the fear as the once black, glass like floor turns into a great ocean of darkness and you struggle to keep your head over the waves.

It rains and you feel the dark goop wrap around your ankle like a tentacle.

You feel yourself get pulled down.

Down into the lukewarm water and you see the surface being tugged away from you.

You scream and beg, but you feel water burn your lungs as you try to breath.

The water turns colder and the goop goes upwards.

You look down at your assailant.

And you-

Dream End.

You wake with a sudden start.

"P-please don't k-kill me!" You sputter out, only to realize your in bed, at home, in your studio apartment room.

"Ha... Ha ha...." You start, and you can't stop until your laughing into crying hysterics and you only now realize how bad your shaking.

Oh lord, your shaking and crying over some dumb nightmare.

Idiot.

You struggle to stop laughing, and you almost go back into your crying fit, but a small 'meow' snaps you out of it and you see your fluffy cat.... you manage to pull yourself together, and pull yourself out of bed and check the time.

12:23 AM.

"Ah, perfect." You say to no one on particular as you crack your back and joints.

You walk over to your kitchen and open the fridge to find your best drink, only to be met with dismay.

Mother fucker, you drank it all.

You sigh and turn your head to the ceiling with your eyes closed.

You stand like that for a moment, collecting your thoughts and ever thinning patience.

"It's fiiiine..." You say and then laugh at yourself.

You sigh once more and close the fridge, and then turn to your coffee brewer.

You put your favriote mug under the machine and pop a coffee pod in and select the '8oz'.

You pull out a granola bar while your coffee brews and chew slowly as you think over the dream.

Well, not a dream, eh? A nightmare is better suited to describe that clusterfuck of emotional stress that put you through.

Your therapist said something about a phobia of deep water when you told her of the dream last time it occured.

What'd she call it?

Thalassophobia or something?

You sigh to yourself and finish off your snack as the brewer starts sputtering, signaling that it's done.

You pick up the cup, and being careful to not touch the hot edges, you pour caramel and milk till your likeing and take a drink of the cooler, semi-sweet liquid.

You feel a bit less crazy.

You go over to your deck and step out to feel the warm breeze engulf you and you drink your coffee while looking at the looming figure of Mt. Ebbot.