Dreamkiller

Here I was again, in front of my childhood home, and the dreamkiller was hunting me down. No idea who it was or what it wanted, but it kept killing me over and over again in this exact spot. The sky was still drained of its light blue, replaced by a thick misty fog. I turned to my left, and it was coming, slowly, but the heavy footsteps I could hear made it feel like he was right next to me.

The force of them felt like a giant, but the dreamkiller’s appearance was human-shaped as far as I could tell. Maybe there was more to it. Fractured pieces of the roof floated in the air. An enormous hole on the right side of the home. I walked up the broken staircase, hopped onto each step until I was inside.

“Hello? Anyone home?”

My voice echoed throughout the house with an eerie silence. Usually no one was here. The inside porch lay bare, but the white couch and small tv hooked up to the wall. Shoes and sneakers were missing one of each. Passing through the living room, the couch was flipped over, the grey-box TV was on the wall, rather than on the grey TV stand. I hopped across the fractured floor, even though I never fell through. I heard a child laughing upstairs, and he ran downstairs. Looking at the boy, I realized it was me.

The brightest smile written on his face. The house began to shift, forming back into the normal house I remember from when I was a kid. Was my mind playing tricks on me? How was this possible? Seeing my younger self reminded me of my old childhood. The red and black bike with the training wheels that became rusty over time, the PlayStation 2 with my collection of games that I regrettably sold, the laughter of my friends when we played kickball.

The sun beamed through the window. The sound of the footsteps stopped. Why was I being brought back here? Normalcy returned. My younger self looked at me, waving to me. Could he see me?

“Come upstairs.”

He ran up, and I followed. We were back in my old childhood room. This incarnation of the room had been my favorite. Bunk beds for my sister and me, who lived with us at the time. Stickers of cartoons on the closet door, the small box TV hooked to the ceiling, the mirror above the dresser wasn’t there. No gray carpet either, just the dense wooden floor. Raggedy books on the dusty wooden shelf. The only thing missing was my younger brother who hadn’t been born yet. This was a strange, bizarre experience.

Does the Dreamkiller think I want this life again? How does it know what my old childhood was like?

“Do you like the room?”

“I do.”

I patted my younger self's head, and he smiled and laughed.

“This is what you want, right?”

His smile shifted into a menacing stare, teeth still shown and eyes laser-focused like a predator. His voice changed from an innocent child to a deep, overwhelming echo.

“What are you talking about?”

Both arms held out wide as if I was supposed to acknowledge the room.

“This is what you want, right?” His voice grew louder, stronger with each passing word. Each word is more menacing and demonic. The glass windows shattered and splintered into tiny pieces across the floor. The strength of the wind grew stronger, blowing the books off the shelf; the beds shook with insurmountable force. The thumps were getting closer and closer, and my body stopped moving. The dreamkiller rose through the air, linked to black fleshy tentacles coming out of its back like it was tethered to another entity. It came through the window and landed on the ground. It wore a skull-faced white mask, black hooded cloak, and heavy black boots. Despite being human-shaped, I was positive there was no sign of breathing.

It had no concern for me this time, stared at my younger self, and held out its gloved hand. My younger self grabbed it willingly. Why? Did the Dreamkiller have him under his control? I charged at the Dreamkiller and, without turning towards me, gripped me by the throat. My legs were dangling in the air, trying to free myself. I felt my airway blocked, and tried to use my hands to release myself from his grip.

Nothing was working. Then, it released the grip, and I fell. I began coughing and trying to catch my breath. It wrapped its hand around my face as horrifying visions ran through my mind. I’m in someone else’s dream. The same childhood home, thick fog, heavy boots. I hear my name being called out. I recognized the voice immediately. Soft and tender. My sister. She had come into contact with the Dreamkiller.

I had no idea how she was trapped in these dreams. Was it just one or several? She wandered through the home, calling out for me to no avail. The dreamkiller came for her, and she tried to run away, but it didn’t work. It grabbed her by the throat, choking her until it let go. She began struggling to breathe and coughed loudly. Then, she lunged at it, cracking the mask as it shattered to the floor.

What should have been a face being revealed was not what either my sister or I were expecting. A vortex of overwhelming darkness lay bare where the mask was. Black pulpy tendrils came out of the vortex, wrapped around my sister’s arms and legs. A tendril slammed forcefully into her mouth. I felt the tendril go into her mouth, chained down, and felt her crushing fear. The vortex began to absorb her body like an endless vacuum until her whole being had been consumed. I cried at the sight of these visions, knowing I was helpless to stop it.

“I’m sorry.”

The Dreamkiller reached for its mask, and I knew I would join her.