Have you ever thought about what fiction is? Probably, such a question may seem surprising: and so everything is clear. Every person throughout his life has to repeatedly create the works he needs for specific purposes - statements, autobiographies, dictations - using not gypsum or clay, not musical notes, not paints, but just a word. At the same time, almost every person will be very surprised if he is told that he thereby created a work of fiction, which is very different from visual art, music and sculpture making. However, everyone understands that a student's essay or dictation is fundamentally different from novels, short stories, news that are created by professional writers. In the works of professionals there is the most important difference - excogitation. But, oddly enough, in a school literature course, you don’t realize the full power of fiction. So using our website in your free time discover fiction for yourself. The Nightmare by Ash Contrey (reading books for 5 year olds .txt) 📖
- Author: Ash Contrey
Book online «The Nightmare by Ash Contrey (reading books for 5 year olds .txt) 📖». Author Ash Contrey
NO STOP!!!,” I yelled, “WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS TO ME!?” Figures surrounded me, hidden in the darkness around me. I felt a sharp pain stab through my torso, looking down a dark crimson color flowed out. The bleeding was coming where my heart should be, Am I going to die? It got cold, like being shoved in a freezer, or being lost in Antarctica. I fell to the ground staring up at the nothingness above, a black void that a blue sky belongs to. Taking one more glance at the small light emitting above me I closed my eyes.
I woke up, bolting upright and my mouth open for a scream I couldn’t make. Looking down at where I was hurt in the nightmare, there was blood.... but I wasn’t actually hurt? It was on my hands too, and the floor, on the bed sheets, even the ceiling, walls, and doorknob. I looked around again. This isn’t my room, this isn’t even my clothes. I was wearing some kind of hospital clothes, or a mental patients clothes more like. I put my hands over my ears and rocked back and forth, and closed my eyes.
“Please be a dream, please be a dream, please be a dream, please be a dream!” I heard blood-curdling screams in my head, and the tearing of flesh. Opening my eyes I see a darkened forest, tombstones around. One in particular had my name on it, the grave open and empty... a coffin lay open in the hole in the ground. I leaned closer. I felt cold hands pull me in, falling forward into the grave. I was inside the coffin, buried alive, in the dark, alone. I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t move, Screams being screamed unheard. I closed my eyes again, I was sure I did, I wasn’t able to tell.
A light? What is this? Is it all over? I woke up again, my room was just as how I left it when I fell asleep. I got up, put on my school clothes and went to school, hiding away my memories of the nightmare and fear of sleep behind a mask I call my face.
Text: Content is by me
Images: Made using MMD and edited with Photoshop
Publication Date: 03-10-2013
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