Excerpt #1, Novel No.1
A hazy dusk is approaching. The dark challenges the light, bringing an indelible silence as it slowly creeps into the world, The unhurried sunlight retreats beyond the sidewalks, the grass, the trees, the buildings, the houses without disgrace, knowingly predestined to rise against the dark again. I am running with panic weighing heavy on my chest. The pound, pound, pound of my heart and feet are synchronized. My breath is silent, but fast. I feel urgency to get home to save them, my parents. I am running down a dimly lit street. Wet, glossy asphalt shimmers as I climb the familiar hill just before turning left to my house. I can see mist gathering at each lamp post down this long road. Nervousness and fear slip into my impetuously, infected mind. I need to get there faster is the singular thought that is festering to the tip of my tongue as I mouth the words, but no sound comes. Out of the sheer silence I hear a man’s holler and a woman’s scream. The voices are so familiar. Then they become distorted and evil in sound. At the crest of the hill, I see my house. Dark and no lights on, except for the one upstairs. Incomprehensible speed gets me to the front door of our house in seconds. I brace myself with one deep breath; I know what is coming. I open the door and even though I know what to expect having dreamed this nightmare countless times, I still feel the blood drain from my body, and my throat constrict in preparation to bar any sound from coming to my aid. This dark, evil presence, aura, is all around me laden and thick with terrorizing, intimidating presence. It knows that I am hear and I feel the rush of the dark force, block my path. As I attempt to pass and climb the stairs, the sensation of walking through deep snow kicks in. I will myself to press on, having had repeated attempts and failures time and time again in this vicious circle of a nightmare. I am up the stairs two steps at a time with unearthly speed. My kick to the door cracks the door frame and startles dad into look up at me, then promptly returning his full attention to mom. They are huddled, holding each other in a corner between their bed and night stand. My mother is writhing, convulsing. My father is holding her weeping and quickly speaking under his breath what I can gather are prayers to God for her to be saved.
I confront this dark aura that is saturating my home, my family.
“Leave this house”, comes out of my mouth crackly and muffled with no strength behind it, like I had cotton stuffed into my mouth.
I close my eyes and focus. I put every ounce of volume and strength behind my voice, “Leave my house, my family. With all my strength, I co…”
I hear the audible reality, “...mmand you to leave!”and my voice wakes me.
I am drenched in sweat, yet shivering and cold. I can not move my body. I can only look around. My legs feel like they are being sat on and my arms feel as if they are chained to the bed. I turn to the window, it is still dark. The trees are casting dark shadows on my bedroom wall from the window by my bed. I am breathing rapidly, but trying to slow the pace. I lie there recalling the same damn familiar nightmare that I have experienced for years; yet becoming more frequent lately. Three times this week and it is only Friday. I can’t help but think, like so many times in the past, that it could be a warning or sign of some kind. More frequently than not, when this very physical nightmare occurs, it takes a while for my body to regain the ability to move. In my adolescent years, the doctors remedied my parents concern by naming this somewhat bazaar symptom "sleep paralysis". As the nightmare became more intense as I got older, so did the paralysis. My focused attempt at physically repositioning my body seems to assist with the shift in my mind that is necessary to bring myself back to reality. I look at the clock; it is 3:34 am. "Too early to call mom and dad", I thought. I always call them after “an episode”. Since I can remember, mom and dad have been either physically at my bed side or by phone to comfort me after the nightmare. I suppose it is their way of bringing me back to reality after the horrific un-reality of it all. It only felt normal to call them now, even though I am hesitant since the increased occurrences worry them. The frequency is beginning to worry me as well.