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Creative writing waking up from a nightmare

waking up suddenly – quotes and descriptions to inspire creative writing

Waking up suddenly can be as a great epiphany, a eureka moment, when the friendly ghosts of the soul have set you upon a new path.

I wake up suddenly, not because of any noise or interruption, yet because my dream had come to its conclusion. The night movie had ended, credits had rolled. Now it was time to engage in the real world once more.

From the land of dreams to the land that needs them. From asleep to awake in one heartbeat.

I dreamed of a friendly poltergeist. We were in the attic, sorting out old clothes and shoes for charity. She zoomed to a large pile and aparently was making a mess instead of doing what I’d asked her to do. I laughed and explained to another person who was there, that this was just her being her, the ghost was actually trying to help. The ghost returned. She had been on her own mission of course. She had found a pretty dress, green with sparkles. Then I was awake and feeling happy. Even at the deepest level I was a well intentioned distracted person on a mission to help others, even if they didn’t quite see the method in the chaos. That’s a good thing to be. I’m a good person.

Short Story Nightmare

I decided to turn it into a short story because it seemed so real. It jolted me out of my sleep and even after waking up I was left reeling, believing it had happened.

Let me introduce to you, my short story nightmare. Dun, dun, duuuunnnnnn!

The nightmare

I turn into the private close and pull up in the lay-by outside my parent’s home. My tyre creates a splash on the concrete.

Switching off the engine and shuffling in my seat, I look over at my parent’s house. Oddly, the front door is open. I look down the side of the house at the wheelie bins, expecting to see Dad putting out the rubbish. He isn’t there.

I check the living room window, expecting to see a single shutter flexing, with Mum’s fingers waving to greet me. But she isn’t, the shutters are undisturbed.

Unplugging my seat belt and opening the car door, I unwillingly step out into the wet, chilly air. With the sound of my car door, I check the window again, expecting the door’s slam to prompt Mum to take a peek. She doesn’t.

Strange, says my inside voice.

Movement at the top of my periphery vision catches my attention – the upstairs window, one blind shutter out of place, forming a gap.

The blinds begin to rise gradually.

Turning back to the car, I press lock on the key and await the familiar clunk of the car doors locking, before turning back for the house.

Walking to the house, I look up at the window, expecting to see Mum waving at me with a big smile on her face. There is a smile, but it’s not one I recognise. The stranger’s face sends a shiver down my spine.

I freeze. I don’t know what to do. All I feel is fear.

It’s someone wearing a mask – the moon crescent shaped grin is permanent, with a bloody redness to it. The stranger teases their arm up and slowly waves at me.

I regain control of my body and charge inside. Through the entrance hall, into the sitting room and onto the stairs. I jump over the first step and stumble on the second, falling flat onto my front. The step winds me, stopping me momentarily. Regaining my breath, I clamber up.

“Mum? Dad?” I shout upstairs.

My foot slips again, forcing me onto all fours. I look up, someone’s looming on the landing. It’s him, staring down at me, still smiling uncontrollably from the top of the stairs. I get back onto my feet and skip the final few steps.

I throw my body against him, pushing him against the wall. He doesn’t flinch, he smiles. Chuckling under his breath. I tear his mask off his face. He’s grey, lacking a healthy skin colour.

“Where are my parents?” I hear the fear in the shaky intonation of my voice.

He continues staring, holding a wide smile.

“They’re not here, anymore,” he croaks.

I push him aside and run into my parent’s bedroom. I see the bed, but I turn away just as quickly.

I can’t look again. But I have to.

I turn back to the bed, I see two mounds under the duvet. Smudges of red decorate the room, as if I was in an artist’s studio.

The End

Copyright © T. J. Blake
All rights reserved.

After that I woke up, can you blame me?

If you enjoyed this short story, then you will most definitely enjoy reading my novels, DECEPTION and my latest novel, Familiar.