Bridge Of Writing (Domination #1) by DeYtH Banger (christmas read aloud .txt) 📕

ME!” And the monster or whatever being would run in a sort of weird deformed way.

I used to wake up with my body sweaty and me gasping for air. But I never called my parents in, for I never knew if I was actually awake. And I was scared to say anything, so I eventually went back to sleep. Now, before I tell you anything else I must put one thing out there. I suffer from a thing called sleep paralysis. If you don’t know what that is, it is where you have awoken but cannot move, or in “paralysis”.

So one night when my mom kissed me to sleep I went into my room. I prayed to God about watching over me and keeping me safe etc. I started to lose hope in God at that age. I was only 9. I got in bed and laid there. Inspecting the area as I drifted to sleep.

This specific event changed dreams for me forever and hopefully it does for you too. Dreams are something that uses your imagination and can twist it in any way possible. Dreams can sometimes form into nightmares. Like ying and yang you need them both. Like a balance. When I had this specific dream, I was being born. Yes I could see my birth. And like most dreams it felt real. It looked real. Too real to the fact that I lived every second of it. It didn’t go fast like a normal dream. It was odd.

Then a figure was shadowing me and my mom. The figure, lurking and staring down at me. This dream suddenly fell into a nightmare. As the doctors pushed me towards the figure as he then took me out of the ER. My mom was crying. But not a usual cry, like baby crying and screaming. I wondered why my dad wasn’t there. He was in every dream I had surprisingly.

I woke up. But in sleep paralysis. I tried to move and struggle but no use. The figure came in my room. I tried to scream. The only words that came out of my mouth were, “come and get me,” the figure didn’t move. Only staring. I got a good look at it, it didn’t have a torso or any other limbs. Just a face with black smoke under it. I said, “come and get me,” louder than before. The figure wouldn’t move. He only stood there.

My mom came bursting in the door with my brother and grabbed me. She kept blabbering about my father. I wanted to tell her about the figure. She was crying. She said that my father’s body was found.

At the back of our old house. He died in a fire. For I now know to this day. My father was in the dream. Just not who he was supposed to be. It’s funny because every dream I have of me saying come and get me, I woke up to my mom saying we have to go to a funeral or something.

These dreams can’t drift into nightmares because there is nobody else in my family to kill but me. But I will always know that my guardian angels will come, and they will get me.

The Pumpkins

 by Dopeloozie

 

 

The doorbell rings once again, I stop washing dishes and I grab the candy bowl, I make my way towards the door and open it, I hear trick or treat! I say, “Hi guys I love your costumes,” I give the children the last bit of my candy. Trick or treating should be over by now anyway, I think to myself.

I turn the porch light off, leaving the surroundings almost pitch black. I sit on my couch and turn on my TV, I switch the channels a couple of times, I turn it to the news. A local story was on about a pumpkin massacre. As I watch it more, the story just seemed to get more and more gut wrenching.

The pumpkin massacre goes house to house every night on the month of October, leaving pumpkins on their door step. The news reporter not knowing why, but the people this massacre visits, ends up missing, nowhere to be found.

Before I get too spooked, I turn the TV off, I get up off the couch and make my way to my bedroom down the hall so I can change into my nightgown. Before I got any further, the door bell rings. I feel my whole body tense up, I feel the shivers down my spine, the hairs on the back of my neck arise.

With shortness of breath, I walk slowly towards the front door, trying not to make a sound. The floor creaks, I stop and listen. The door bell rings once more, startling me. What terrifies me the most is, I know the front door wasn’t locked.

I reach the door, and I look out the peep hole, nothing, not a soul. I slowly turned the door handle, I opened it very slowly, it was completely dark outside. I flipped the switch on to the porch light, and discover a pumpkin sitting at my feet!

My blood runs cold, I kick the pumpkin, causing it to break into pieces. I hurry back into the house and slam the door behind me, locking it. I hurry though the kitchen, making my way to the back door, to make sure it was locked, when I reached the hallway leading to the back door, the door was wide open. I am beyond terrified now, someone is in my house.

I don’t know whether or not to, run outside and risk the killer to be outside waiting for me, or run as fast as I can to shut the door and lock myself in the house with him. I decided to run as fast as I can, towards the door, I slam the door shut, and lock it. I quickly look out the window, breathing heavily. There he was, standing there, at the end of the sidewalk.

He has something in his hand, a hammer. While staring at him with my wide eyes, I have my fists clenched, preparing for some kind of attack. He raises the hammer in the air, and laughs maniacally, and says, “I’m coming for you,” he sprints quickly towards the door, while still holding the hammer in the air.

I turn around and run down the hallway, through the kitchen, hearing the glass door break. I run towards the front door, and look through the peep hole just in case. When I peek through, I see another one, staring back at me, as if he can see me looking at him. I put my sweaty hands over my mouth so I wouldn’t make a sound.

I hear him, walking slowly through the kitchen, chuckling. I make my way to the living room closet. I open the door a crack, just so I can see what’s coming. As he appears through the kitchen, he walks over to the front door, to let in the other. As he reached for the door handle, I look down at his hands, his hands were not human hands.

His hands were brown, and rough, slimy with long black fingernails. What the hell is this thing? He opened the door, the other one comes busting in, making snorting noises, and uncontrolled grunts. They both have shaggy light brown hair, with an orange sweaty face, with snot coming from their noses. I can’t see whether or not these were masks, but something tells me, they’re not.

The first creature is tall, really tall, so tall his head can almost touch the ceiling. The other is short and hunchback, but looks strong. I don’t want to be trapped in here all night. I shut the closet door all the way, and kneel down, and I start to pray.

About an hour and a half later, after tearing apart my house, trying to find me, it got silent. It’s hot in here, I’m having trouble breathing now, I’m beyond sweaty. Did they leave? “Please God,” I get up slowly, my legs are sore from kneeling down for so long. I open the door very, very slowly.

I open it a crack, and peek through the little opening. There’s he is, standing right there, in front of the closet door, waiting for me. He knew I was in here! He roughly opens the door to the closet, the hunchback back creature shrieks and lifts his hammer in the air, I plead, “Please no, please no!” the hammer strikes the side of my head, knocking me out.

I wake up, but I can’t move, I’m tied down. I can see it’s still dark outside. I’m inside some sort of body bag, hanging over a shoulder. I assume it’s the taller one, I feel high up. I start to cry and panic, and I ask, what do you want from me! My head is pounding. He replies, “We want to make you one of us, we’ll need you, and the others, for next Halloween.”

 

 

 

Note: Oh yeah, why not to eat some piece of shit.

Midwest

 

 

 

 

 

 

Having spent my life in a buzzing metropolis, driving through the Midwest states was a hypnotic and sobering experience. Anyone who has seen the bread-basket of America will know what I'm talking about. Fields. Billions of acres of crops covering the land in waves of undulating leaves; the tame wilderness organized into rows, blocks, and circles, continuing on for hours and hours and days and days.

That's one of the strangest things about driving through the Midwest. The endless ocean of cornfields, birthed by man's labors seem to go on without end, but with no signs of those who created it. A car here, a small house there, a windmill, a rotting barn; it's as if some great civilization built it eons ago and then died out, leaving the living remains of their creations for you to drive past and wonder at.

That's how I found myself on the evening of the last day in July, driving my red sedan along a veritable tunnel of a road cut across the cornfields. No broad highway for me; rather, I had chosen a graveled detour which I had been promised led back to the interstate. The last few exhausting days had seen me driving non-stop across the country, but today, as the sun peaked in the sky and began its free-fall back into the earth, the end of my trip drew near. Rest, relaxation, and (who the fuck knows?) maybe even fun