I am currently writing a short story that might end up turning into a novella. It was inspired by some truly terrifying episodes of sleep paralysis I experienced for quite a few nights in a row. My ideas keep expanding as far as the plot goes. I am very hard on myself as a writer and often give up and throw away half finished stories. I thought it might be a good idea to post a rough draft of the intro to this story, tentatively titled “The Nightmare” (this will absolutely change if I end up finishing it). There will be a lot of blood, death, and sex (there’s your disclaimer). I would appreciate any thoughts you might have on this very rough draft of the intro- I am a very insecure being and encouragement is basically all that keeps me from trashing everything when it comes to art in any form. Help with any grammar or syntax errors would be much appreciated, as well.
Without further ado….
The room was humid, sweat sticking the backs of her knees to the sheets. A red glow slowly pierced through her eyelids, causing her to wake. Her eyes opened slightly, her limbs prepared to stretch and free themselves from the sheets. Immediate adrenaline flooded her entire body as her limbs refused to respond to her brain, willing them to move. She began to loudly hyperventilate, half with fear and half with the hope that her sounds of distress would wake her contentedly snoring boyfriend, who was curled against her back. Using all of the force she could muster she strained to move her hands- nothing. She focused on trying to move just a finger, surely that couldn’t be too difficult- nothing, again. “I’m paralyzed. I’m having a stroke, some kind of fatal health issue.”, she thought. Her eyes began to register that the room was bathed in a reddish light that pulsed in a sickening way; the same wash of light that had caused her to open her eyes from sleep. Her eyes roved around the room in a pure panic, trying to find the source of this light, trying to qualm her fear that she was dying. Her vision fixed, suddenly, on a cupboard that had been left ajar in the bedroom. She continued to make what seemed like the loudest noise she had ever emitted from her mouth as she breathed in extreme fear. The cupboard…something in the cupboard, a blackness with form. A blackness that somehow writhed and shifted even in the total absence of light. She snapped her eyes shut, somehow able to will her body to make this motion even though every other inch of her refused to move. She knew this was a nightmare, it had to be. There was no way her boyfriend would not have been awoken by the sounds of her panicked breathing. Her boyfriend, who now seemed to be pushing his erect penis against her backside, a motion that normally would have solicited sleepy middle-of-the-night sex; but instead filled her with extreme revulsion bordering on nausea. The motion felt unnatural, his member seemed horrifically large- like an uncoiled, thick snake rotating against her ass. She could hear herself cease to hyperventilate and dissolve into whimpers- still paralyzed, still hoping to finally wake up.
“Shh. . .shh. . .such. . .pretty. . .thing. . .mine. . .shhhhhhh.”, he whispered in her ear; voice sibilant and fading in and out as if she was hearing the words through a radio station just out of range. She felt hands thick with calluses…no, thicker than that, like scaled hands running over her back. Hands with nails that felt like cold metal, now scraping down her spine. She felt hot breath on her neck as the pulsing red light seemed to be growing stronger, invading her eyelids and making them water. A tongue that felt obscenely long and rough as a cat’s licked her from collarbone to behind her ear in one long, slimy stroke once…twice…
She bolted upright in bed, letting out an ear splitting scream before she dissolved into hysterical sobbing. Her baffled boyfriend immediately woke and gathered her to his chest.
“You’re okay, I promise you’re okay. Was it another nightmare?”, he asked softly while stroking her hair.
“Yes, yes. Well, no. I mean, I don’t know. I think there was someone else in the room with us.”, she said.
“No, I promise it’s just us here. I’m here. It was just a nightmare. You’re safe. You’re okay now.”, he said.
She didn’t feel okay. She felt filthy and violated. Her neck. . .
“No, not possible. Don’t check, don’t, don’t do it”, she thought; but she had to. She reached a trembling hand to her neck and it came away wet; a wetness far thicker than the sweat that covered her entire body. She had to believe it was just sweat, to hold on to her sanity, she had to believe that.
She had nightmares every night; every night of her entire life, from as far back as she could remember. Were they now somehow seeping into reality? Was she finally going completely crazy, so crazy she could not tell the difference between dreams and reality? Was she carrying something back with her, somehow bringing her nightmares into the real world? She shook her head violently against her boyfriend’s chest, he had already fallen back asleep and was snoring again, peacefully. “No, no, no. This is insane. That is not possible. It wasn’t real. It was just a nightmare.”