Creeptober Horror Spree: Volume One

Sleep Paralysis

I used to run crying to my parents' room every few nights, trying to get away from The Man With Too Many Teeth. I always made it through their door in time, right before his spindly fingers curled around my ankle to drag me to my death. It got so bad that they started letting me sleep with them. Part of it was an experiment. And, I'm sure part of it was that it was extremely annoying to wake up to the shrieking of your daughter three times a week. I think my parents figured if they could be there when the nightmare began, they could prove to me that it was all in my head.

And so, I laid between them nice and cozy, drifting off to sleep in the hopes that I wouldn't wake up until dawn. For a few nights, all was well, but inevitably, the man found out where I was hiding and paid a visit. He would drip from the ceiling as tar, slowly forming into a lithe, stretched out thing. Barely a human man, but vaguely close enough to fit the description. He would fix his lidless eyes on me, gleaming in the dark, and grin. The smile would keep going, and going, and going, curling slowly into a grimacing snarl. His elongated forehead would wrinkle downward as he frowned.

I never knew what I was doing to make him angry. I tried to smile back, but I couldn't move my body when this happened, which made it that much more horrifying when The Man With Too Many Teeth began to loom over me, placing his hands on either side of the bed. Usually, that was the point in which I could finally move, and I would run as fast as my little legs could carry me. That night, between my parents, I regained control of my body and screamed bloody murder. Mom and dad jolted out of their sleep and flung the light switch up, and the man was gone.

Sleep paralysis therapy and reassurance allowed me to relax and enjoy years of nightmare-free nights. The older I got, the more I thought I was silly for ever thinking he was real. My memories of him chasing me down the hall weren't accurate. My therapist explained it to me very clearly. Adrenaline, fear, and freshly awakening from a nightmare led me to believe he was pursuing me. I was doing great.

But now, as I hide in my basement waiting for the police to find me before he does, I feel angry. I feel lied to. The Man With Too Many Teeth came back tonight, and he doesn't like it when you hit him with a hard right hook. He's crashing around upstairs. I can only hope this barricade holds.