Short Scary Stories

James

When i was 17 years old, I was an avid romance reader. I'd sneak all of my mothers harlequin novels and lock myself and just absorb it's cheesy love. So when I started dreaming  of this dashing young fellow in a breezy, ruffled white shirt with riding boots, I was ecstatic.

His name was James and he  had an old time English accent. The dreams started out naturally, once a month he'd pop in sometimes twice. Then it became more frequent, one to two times a week. All the dreams would start off the same, I would by myself, sleeping in my bed I'd wake up and find him standing in my room. His eyes glowed vibrant green and he kept pushing his ruffled hair back in this hot way. The way he looked at me is what made me obsessed. He would approach me slowly, in a non intimidating way, and he would tell me I'm beautiful and he asked me if I want to dance. Music would come from nowhere and I would find myself in a beautiful gown. 

Meanwhile why conscious life was becoming strangely dark. My music player would turn on in the middle of the night full blast, waking everyone in the house. I'd be doing my homework at my desk and I would continuously see something out of the corner of my eye. One time, with the house to ourselfes, me and m friends were piled on my bed when we heard a mans voice coming from my bathroom. My friend asked me who that was and I thought it was my brother or dad who had possibly come home early, but it didn't sound like either of them. He I realized who it was. "James?" I asked. The talking abruptly stopped. I told my friends about my dreams and their faces went white. 

Two nights later I had the same dream, but in this one he was much more aggressive, and when we danced he aggressively growled in my ear, "You will always be mine. No one else can have you." 

A week later I begged my mother to let me move out of my bedroom and come upstairs (It was in the basement.) my younger sister switched with me and she stayed there for years. My dreams? Gone.

A little more than a year ago my sister and I were helping our parents move out of the house, my sister chuckled and said to herself  "James won't be happy about this" I had never been more terrified in my life. "What did you just say?!" I asked 

She blushed and said "Nothing..." 

"James the English man who dances??" 

"Yeah, he's not a very nice man."