Horror 100 Volume 2

Dreams Return

Sleep was once a joy to me. It was an escape, a sweet release from the monotony of daily life, bringing with it manifestations of the fantasies that reside in my mind while I am yet awake.

    That time is long gone. Sleep, once a blessed sanctuary, now is worse than waking, for the fulfillment of the yearnings of lucidity have been replaced by a recurrence of singular horror. Night after night, my dream-self appears in the same accursed place, under the sagging boughs of twisted, ancient trees of a haunted forest, caressed by the touch of chill winds that blow through bare branches, long forsaken by their green leaves. These leaves now lie in piles of shredded litter upon the cold ground, wet with the miserable dew of Hallow-Mass. Above this ethereal location, the sky is aglow with a sickly, ruddy phosphorescence, as if a fire burns high over the firmament.

    Long do I wander this wood, purposeless and afraid, of what exactly, I know not. At times, between breaks in the mass of overhanging tree limbs, the moon could be ascertained, litten orange to the degree of an almost bloody appearance, leering mockingly at me with its distorted face. I would tend to shy away from it, its light imbuing no sense of security into my fear-ridden mind.

    Over bald knolls I would cross, cloaked in a spectral mist which gleamed unwholesomely, dancing around my head, becoming ghostly faces with fiery countenance. Downward I would tread, through open glades and hollows of ill-repute, wherein I would flee in utter terror when the demonic eyes of the stars would at times pierce the ruddy veil of my dreamland.

    And at deep points in the dim forest, places where the few discernible paths were lost to nothingness, far from the glow of sky or moon, certain things could be espied now and then. Forgotten marvels of seemingly once splendid pride, towers of great height, swaddled in thick green foliage, statues choked by the crushing hands of vines, all nearly lost to view by the obscuring walls of the omnipresent, evil trees.

    One night I remember finding myself in one of these forgotten regions of the unholy dreamland. Trepidation conceded to curiosity as I approached a stone ruin of strange shape and build. An entrance was found on its opposite side, detected by noting the utter blackness that lay in contrast to the slightly glowing stone. A feeling of nausea overtook me as I attempted to peer downward into the abysms of the ruined staircase, but I mustered courage enough to slowly, timidly descend.

    The air was filled with a pungent must, accentuated by a pervasive odor of wetness. My flesh grew clammy and I swallowed nervously, stopping quickly as a sound was heard far away, emanating from the bowls of this nightmare ruin. As I strained to listen, my awareness was rewarded by the unmistakable sound of breathing, guttural and hoarse. Suddenly, my feet slipped, sending a small rock hurtling down the black steps, impacts echoing in a rolling cascade. After a brief moment of paralyzing terror, vibrations began resounding in the stone, beginning as a dull, half-imagined sensation, seguing into concrete and quite real pounding.

    As the footsteps ascended, for that is what they must have been, I too ascended, running in a mad panic, the guttural grunting growing more pronounced. At last I crossed the threshold, leaving the ruins behind. Entering the protection of the trees once more, I risked one last glance at the yawning entrance. Inside, a dark silhouette was just breaking against the background of gray, faded stone, enormous and hideous. I stifled a shriek and continued onward, past quietly burbling brooks and destroyed bridges, leaping over broken boulders, passing occult circles made of waxen candles.

    Ever does the dream return. Night after night, my mind is plagued by this unknown forest, masked by the unnerving red glow that wreathes the clouds. But now new horror lies within its silent eaves. Never have I seen sentient life in this empty place, until that awful ruin was entered. Now I know that, despite the forest's apathy, I am not alone.