Sleep

Sleep

A Story by Aiden Alyx
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The story of a girl and how dreams turn into nightmares... the question is if you're sleeping.

"

Dreams are funny things. There are some that are only a strange jumbled mass of incoherent babble and vibrant colours, or dreams in which you can do anything, like fly.  Then there’s other dreams, dreams so real you don’t know if you’re awake or asleep, so real you wake up screaming.  These dreams are nightmares.  The only good thing about nightmares is that you can wake up and realize it was nothing more than a dream, unless you are like me, in which case, waking up is just the beginning of the nightmare. 

            I woke up to the faint sound of sirens echoing down the street, rising shrieks growing more and more terrible the closer they got to the house.  Seth was still asleep next to me, a shadow against the glow of the streetlamp shining through the window.  I reached my hand to his shoulder to wake him up as the sirens continued to grow louder.  I gasped as I felt a sharp pain in my leg. Reaching down, my hand grabbed a cold, wet object.  Carefully, I pulled it up into the yellow tinted light to see it.  Panic rose through me when I recognized blood on the kitchen knife’s blade.  My hands were bloody, how could I have stabbed myself that badly?   It was only a little scratch-

            “SETH!”  I screamed. “Baby wake up! SETH!”  I was crying, shaking him violently.  His skin was icy, cold to the touch.  Blood, red as roses blooming on the white sheets, left his skin covered in a sticky, sharp scented mess.  The sirens were blaring over my screams.  I felt the cops’ hands trying to get a hold of me, guns pointed in my direction.  All I could do was scream, struggle, try to wake up. Why were they taking me? I kept screaming for them to let me go. What had I done?  It was the moment that thought crossed my mind when I saw the wall.  I could make out the four little words:

‘HE HAD IT COMING!’

I remember my aunt saying, “October, keep living the way you are and you’ll end up in prison.”  Well, here I am, two years later.  October Moyes, age 23, arrested for murdering her boyfriend of two years, 27 year old photographer Seth Hazra.  I never thought I’d ever be arrested for anything, especially anything more serious than failing to pay a parking ticket.  Sometimes bad things happen to good people, but being framed for murder?  I kept trying to think of what could’ve happened, Seth was my life. I never would intentionally hurt him.  I sat there, staring at the ceiling of my cell.  I could see his face, his ice blue eyes, his long raven hair that he would constantly push behind his ears, I could still hear his voice, his laugh, see his smile. When I closed my eyes I could feel his arms around me, hear his voice saying it would all be okay.  Daydreams slowly turned into nightmarish recollection of that night.  He looked eerily peaceful, streaks of crimson across his pale, flawless skin.  His hair was matted and had clumps of dried blood.  I opened my eyes to the cold blank ceiling above me, tears running down my cheeks.  It had been two weeks, and I hadn’t spoken a word.  I had no reason to speak, all I knew was I would be dead if I didn’t find a way to prove my innocence, I had to get out of here, I had to clear my name,

Or at least die trying.

The night guard was an easy target.  He was an old drunk who would pass out around 45 minutes into his shift.  The night was still, and the guard had fallen from his desk chair, sprawled on the concrete floor.  I propped my feet on the cell bars and gripped his wrist.  The leverage was just enough to pull the rag doll body close enough to grab his keys.  I slipped outside of my cell and pushed the limp sack of meat into the vacant space.  I took his gun and the keys with me, along with his phone and radio.  I shot out the cameras, and disabled the main alarms.  Once I was out, I disposed of everything but the gun and some clothes.  I changed into poorly fitting civilian clothes, tucked the gun into my belt, and ran, hopping the last chain-link fence between myself and freedom. 

            The moonlight was constantly disrupted by cloud cover. I had lifted some necessities off the body of a hobo.  Poor guy froze to death in the night.  I cut my hair with a piece of glass I found, and traded the ripped up sweatshirt for his slightly worn coat.  In the coat were an assortment of wallets and lint.  In the end I had about $20 worth of quarters, a couple ones, and a gift card to some coffee shop I’d never heard of.  I left the guy with the sweatshirt over his frost covered face and darted out of the alley.  Every time I heard sirens in the distance my heart was racing, it was only a matter of time until they discovered a hung over cop in my place and alerted the media.  I ran through the streets, darting in and out of the shadows.  Thankfully I had exceptional night vision, which helped balance my natural tendency to trip over flat surfaces.  It was when I was about 5 miles away from the prison that I found the bike.  I rode through the dying rundown part of the city towards its limits, praying I was headed in the right direction.   I rode all night, the hours meshed into a vague blur, I had no idea how far I had come, or how far I still needed to go.  The sky began to lighten when I finally got to the old industrial complex.  It was a conveniently remote cluster of abandoned warehouses and rusted machinery.  This place had been forgotten what seemed like ages ago, its only visitors were the occasional teens looking for a rush and drifters looking for somewhere to crash.  I slept on a loft inside the main building 40 feet over the shop floor until night fall.  There I stayed for 3 days, leaving only at night to explore around me.  While I slept, I dreamed, mostly flashbacks of Seth.  I gained a sense of direction from the rising and setting sun, and started mapping out my path.  There was only one thing I was certain of at this point; I had to return to the house.  The question was how to get there.

            I’d been in this warehouse for about 4 days, if I was to get back to the house, I’d have to find a way besides the bike.  Time was something I didn’t have enough of when it came to travel.  One night I woke to the sound of music, a dull trance throb reverberating throughout the warehouse.  I grabbed the gun I took from the guard and slinked down the ladder, dropping to the shop floor.  I crept along the walls, staying in shadow.  I could see the glow from the doorway to one of the other warehouses.  It was definitely the source of the music.  I ran to the opposing warehouse and climbed up the fire escape.  On the roof was a gaping hole, where perhaps a skylight or air duct had been.  There was a suspended metal catwalk about twenty feet beneath the hole.  The music was loud enough that I was able to jump down onto the catwalk and scurry to another loft.  The sound my boots made as they hit the grate was lost in the trance beat from the shop floor.  From my perch I was able to see my surroundings.  There were about 80 or so people, all appeared between the ages of 16 and 25.  Open fires burned in empty metal chemical barrels. 3 big vans and 2 black pickup trucks were parked inside the large building. The broken shop windows and empty door frames were covered with blankets.  I decided to get a closer look, after all, most seemed a little tipsy, but harmless, none the less.  I slid down from platform to platform, feeling slightly like one of those stupid Nintendo platform games Seth’s nephew played.  I dropped down to the shop floor, hiding behind a pile of sandbags and one of the makeshift fire pit barrels.  I crawled across the floor, towards one of the trucks.  I recognized one of the decals on the closest pick-up; I had seen it drive past the house every day.  I heard people moving around more than before, and one of the van’s engines started. This was my only chance, my only sure way to get back to the house.  I crawled into the bed of the truck, hiding beneath some of the tarps and army blankets stowed back there.  My heart raced as I tried to stay motionless, to just disappear into the truck bed.  I jumped slightly as the engine roared to life, and breathed a sigh of relief as I felt the truck go into motion.  I was on my way home. 

            I waited what seemed like hours once the truck stopped.   I heard the door slam shut and footsteps walk away from the truck, but I was not taking any chances.  I could feel the sun’s heat radiate through the heavy cover.  The warmth was somewhat soothing, and it wasn’t until I felt the night chill that I poked my head out to see my surroundings.  I was about 6 bocks away from the street on which my life fell apart.  I waited until the lights in the neighbouring houses were all out, and then emerged from my hiding place out into the open.  I started in a dead sprint towards the road, and with each step I knew I was one step closer to clearing my name.

            A chill ran down my spine as I stepped onto the brown dead leaf covered porch.  The streetlight flickered, casting ghoulish shadows along the house front.  I lifted one of the boards on the porch, discovering my spare key was still there.  I laughed coldly to myself when I remembered how stupid of an idea Seth had thought that hiding place was.  The door stuck a little from lack of use, but it budges after about two attempts.  I inhaled the stale air; there were still faint scents, memories of living here.  I walked up the creaky steps, goosebumps crawling over my skin.  I pushed the bedroom door open, since it was still ajar from when they dragged me screaming down the stairs.  I took a deep breath and exhaled, my breath visible, crept out of me like a ghost.  I looked at the bed, only the bloodstained mattress remained.  I felt a cold tear run down my cheek, the images flashed through my mind, a fast replay. It was too much when I looked at the wall, the words ‘HE HAD IT COMING’ still prominent against the white walls.  I ran to the bathroom and threw up, the sickening smell of fresh blood invading my nose.  I was still shaking when I took a drink from the sink.  I spit into the basin, watching the water go down the drain. I imagined slipping down the drain, just disappearing, leaving this whole mess behind.  I sighed and looked at my reflection.  My face was gaunt, thin, and ghostly. My hair, once a chestnut brown and flowing, stood up on end, short and uneven in many places.  I turned the sink back on to wash my face; it was painfully obvious I hadn’t seen a shower for a while.  I dried my face on my sleeve and looked back into the mirror.  I let out a blood chilling scream.  The reflection was different, too different.  The woman in the mirror was not me, she was Asian, her sleek black hair falling into her brown eyes.  I stumbled backwards and tripped on the bathroom rug.  Nothing made sense, I screamed, but the reflection only smiled, laughter in her eyes.  I was shaking, sobbing uncontrollably. I stood to face the reflection again, but only saw my own.  A red scratch practically glowed across my left cheek, I must’ve scratched it when I fell.  I walked into the closet; I had to get out of these clothes.  I found a pair of my jeans, my old coat, and one of Seth’s t-shirts.  I looked around the room for something, anything the cops could’ve missed.  The room was practically empty.  The writing on the wall seemed to mock me, as if a sing song voice was chanting ‘he had it coming’ into my ear.  I rushed down the stairs, could someone have heard me scream? If they had, I didn’t have much time before someone was curious enough to see what had happened.  A chill ran down my spine. Had someone just spoken my name?  I tried to shake it off, but then I heard the voice, the soft woman’s voice.

            “October!” it called.  “October! Down here!”

            My breath caught in my throat, I slid down the stairs, the voice reverberating through the stairwell and the halls.  It continued in its harsh whisper, calling me to the open basement door.  I stood atop the steps and stared into the darkness down below, then hesitantly descended down into the musty hole.  The basement smelled like wet dirt and wood, like it had been refilled with earth.  My eyes adjusted to the dark and I could make out piles and piles of boxes.  I scanned the walls, the voice had stopped. I saw a flicker and my eyes shot to a pile of boxes. A faint purple light glowed behind them.  Cautiously I made my way over to the boxes and tried to move them.  The boxes were empty, piled only to hide a door.  Intrigued, and somewhat afraid, I turned the knob, it was open.  The light came from a black light.   I saw a second light switch and flipped it.  A glaring white light blinded me, but as my eyes yet again adjusted, I saw the contents of the small room.  The floor and walls were white tile and barren, the air dry and cold.  A white gurney was chained to the floor, with full body restraints.  Three white boxes were lined up along the wall, each about the size of a shoebox.  I opened the first box a crack, but it was then, that the harsh whisper returned.

            “October!” the voice said. “Lie down, relax my love.”

            It was as if I had lost all control, like I was in a trance.  The gurney seemed inviting, like it itself was calling me.  I laid down on it and closed my eyes.  The voice was back; I opened my eyes and froze.  Above me was a mirror, and the woman from the bathroom was in my place on the gurney, her body restrained.  Her mascara made black tears down her cheeks, blood splattered all over her body.  I went cold as I realized it was her blood.  Gashes covered her body; her skin was white compared to when I first saw her.  Blood dripped from her lips as she spoke in a raspy whisper.

            “Can you see me?”

            I screamed and forced myself off the gurney, running for the door.  I rattled the doorknob, but it was locked.  How could this be?  The voice called around me.

            “The boxes”

            My hands were shaking as I knelt before the first box.  I lifted the lid to find surgical instruments, but they had been altered, like weapons of torture.  The silver blades and spreaders gleamed in the light.  I moved to the next one, it was full of small video tapes.  I tried to read the labels, but the messy handwriting was hard to read.  Only one tape was in a case, protected.  The letters across the label were big and blocky, but crystal clear. There was one word across the front: Juliet.

            I dropped the tape and pulled the third box to me. Slowly I lifted the lid, and looked at its contents.  There were stacks of pictures.  I grabbed some and flipped through them.  It was a wedding scene, probably one of Seth’s jobs left unclaimed.  It was extravagant.  After a while I realized what all to these pictures had in common, the bride and groom’s faces were never shown.  I looked at every picture but it was all the same. I had almost given up, but I noticed the box had a crack in the bottom.  The inside was relatively shallow compared to the other two.  I stuck my fingernails in the crack and lifted.  There was a small photo album with the silver character inscription of “永遠の愛.” I didn’t recognize the language, but turned to the first page. It was a photo album, filled with more wedding pictures.  The first 3 pictures were of an old church.  It was the next page that caught me off guard.  There was the woman; her chocolate eyes filled with laughter, in a brides dress, a bouquet of white roses in her hands and a veil on her head.  She was beautiful. I looked at the next page to find a picture of the happy couple, and I felt my heart stop beating.  The groom was smiling, but his ice blue eyes were as cold as stone.  They were like lasers burning into my soul from beneath his messy black hair.  I had seen this man many times before, his name escaped my lips as I choked back tears.

            “Seth.”

             I turned the pages faster, more wedding pictures.  I came to the middle and the pictures changed.  There was the room I was in, clean and white.  There she was, on the gurney, strapped to it. Then there was Seth.  The camera was on a repetitive timer from the looks of it.  He stood next to her with a box under his arm, his expression emotionless.  Then he was holding one of the altered scalpels.  The next picture he was slicing her open like a child dissecting a frog, her face contorted as if she was letting out an inhuman scream.  The next picture there was a large crimson splatter blocking the scene before it.  The rest of the pages were blank.  I could hardly breathe, my mind racing, trying to come up with some explanation.  That’s when I heard the sirens.  A loud popping sound cracked above my head.  Sparks showered down, burning my arms.  I dropped the album as it and the pictures burst into flame.  Panicked, I ran to the door, the flames growing.  The smell of melting plastic and smoke left me choking; I gripped the doorknob and turned it.  The door opened.  I ran to the staircase as the empty cardboard boxes caught fire, and then shot up them to the back door.  I sat in the back yard, gasping and coughing.  Smoke started rising from the windows. The sky was a pale blue with the rising sun.  I stood and stumbled farther from the house, onto the street.  The sirens were right around the corner, I fell to my knees.  The cold asphalt felt refreshing against my hot flesh.  The sirens were defining as the hands grabbed me.  I heard shouting and the cocking of guns.  All I could think about was the woman, the pictures, the tapes. That’s when I came to my senses. THE TAPES!  I struggled against the cops, and as if I were two people instead of one I broke free and ran for the house.  I had to save the pictures, I didn’t know why, but I had to.   I was so close to the door, in the trance state I didn’t realize the entire house was engulfed in flame.  I almost ran in, but there was an indescribable pain in my back.  A charge from a tazer did the trick, the tapes, the pictures; all of it was up in smoke. My chances to plead innocent went up with them.

            The story the newspaper came up with was somewhat humorous.  They had spun this long story about how my guilt of killing Seth drove me to destroy all the evidence and kill myself at the same time.  My solitary cell reminded me of the tile room, white walls, white floor, and a cot that eerily resembled a crude gurney, so this was home.  I spent all my time on the floor, the cot gave me chills.  I lost track of the time. Sometimes hours felt like days, while other times days passed like minutes.  Meals were irrelevant, I had lost all hope.  Then I realized I had company.  The window on my cell door showed the white walls of the hall, it never really intrigued me until the voice returned. 

“October!” it called “October!”

I saw I flicker in the window.  Propping myself up I crawled over to the window and stared into it.  There was a reflection, the woman.  I only had three words for her.

“Who are you?”

She sighed, and looked away. “I’m Juliet, Seth’s wife”

            My breath caught in my throat. “So it is true... the pictures”

            She nodded slowly, her voice turned cold. “Sorry to put you in this situation, but he had it coming.”

            I looked up at the reflection when I heard this. “How-?”

            She let out a cold laugh. “Haven’t you figured it out October? You did kill him.”

            I was speechless, what was she talking about? How could I have killed him? I’d never even had the thought! How dare she accuse me?

            She let out her cold, sickly sweet giggle. “Oh I dare love, I dare. Why? Because I was there.  You grabbed the knife; you were the one who took out my revenge.  It was nowhere as brutal as what he deserved, but hey. Can’t have everything now can we?” her smile disappeared, her eyes looked as if she were about to cry.

            I managed to choke out a simple phrase. “w-what did he do to you?”

             She paused for a moment. “Seth was a great guy at first. I really loved him, you know?  Everything meant a lot to me at the time.  We were together for 2 years, and when he asked me to marry him I said yes.  Everything was great, but it was like, once we were married we weren’t as free.  I felt smothered by him, having him around 24/7.  Then he started getting a lot of photography gigs, and he was never around.  I felt kind of torn, like he smothered me, but then I’d never see him for about a month or two, then back to smothering.  I realized I needed someone who would be there when I needed him, but I could still breathe my own air.  That’s when I met Markus.” She sighed. “The only problem was that Seth found out.  He completely lost it.  He ended up killing Markus, when he burned the body I told him I’d go to the cops.  He grabbed me and took me down into the basement. He left me strapped to that gurney for 3 days.  Then he came back, and I remember him saying ‘you know what Juliet? I’ve been thinking, maybe I was a little too hard on Markus.’ He stabbed me in the leg with one of those metal things and said ‘its you I need to punish now.’ He kept me alive for about two days, slicing me up, and his stupid camera recording all of it.  He had a video camera too, he said it was to record my screaming for full effect.  Seth was sick.  You should be thanking me October, I saved you from the potential of the worst mistake you could ever make.”

            I still didn’t understand.

            She made a mocking laugh. “Don’t you get it? I’m part of you now! Your body is my puppet! I can control you! I made you kill him; I had to use someone I knew was very close to him. He had it coming.  Personally I would have preferred to have him killed the way he killed me, but like I said, can’t have everything.”

            I felt dizzy, none of this made any sense.  I’d known Seth for a long time before I got with him.  I never even heard of a Juliet. How could I believe any of this?

            “I can get you off death row sweetie, but that’s about it.” She sounded bored now that her story was over. “Unless you want to see him in hell, then be my guest. What do you say? Live without regret or die for your ‘crime’?”

            I knew exactly what to say, everything I had believed in was just a mask, hiding the truth, and I was sick of being blind. “Well Juliet, I guess I could use your help” I looked into her dark eyes. “After all, he had it coming.”

            Juliet smiled coldly, and then the reflection changed into my own.  It spoke to me. “See October? We aren’t so different after all.”  Its laugh tinkled like a glass bell.  “I can keep you alive, for a price of course.” 

I brushed my hair behind my ear; it was falling into my face.  I froze.  Long black hair was in place of my short messy hair.  My hands were smaller, more delicate.  I looked back up at the reflection to see my old self, but there was something different.  I was looking into the cell!  How could this be? My body laughed at me.

“Everything has a price October, or should I say Juliet?” her laugh was the icy ringing of Juliet, my body’s green eyes now the dark abyss of Seth’s darkest secret.  None of this made sense.  Panic rose through my body.  She started again. “You can live, but I think its time you felt the same thing your ‘one true love’ put me through!”

I disappeared, blind. I was lost in a world unlike my own, forever trapped in one of those incoherent dreams of vibrant colours and babbling voices.  It was like one of those old movies where someone was thrown into a new dimension.  I flew past different voices and colours, until I suddenly lost all vision.  I had stopped, and could not move.  I struggled to get off of my back, but it felt as if I was tied down.

The blinding white light caught me off guard.  I opened my eyes, blinking in the glare to see someone in front of me.  More correctly, someone above me.  I stared back at me, once again strapped to the gurney.  Her eyes were staring blankly into my eyes.  Her eyes were as green as mine.  The panic rose again.  This could not be happening, it was just a nightmare! Any second I would wake up in my cell, any moment this twisted dream would be over! A door opened somewhere around me, heavy footsteps echoing around me.  This room was real, that much I couldn’t brush off.  It had all been a dream... but how?  I turned my head and saw the three boxes.  A sob escaped my lips.  The clinking of metal followed, a distinct sweet smell invaded my senses, and an all too familiar voice spoke in a mocking tone.

“You know what October? I’ve been thinking...” cold metal ran up my leg as he came closer. “Maybe I was too hard on Juliet.”  I screamed in pain as the scalpel ripped through my skin.  Seth’s voice was cold.  “It’ll be alright love,” the room swam, his voice echoing through my head. “Just sleep.”


© 2010 Aiden Alyx



Author's Note

Aiden Alyx
I really just want feedback for a slightly amateur piece of writing.

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Oh mi goth Krowbaby, I remember when you first wrote this and handed it to me! I still love it :) It's still a work of flippin' genius!!!


Posted 7 Years Ago


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Added on February 18, 2010
Last Updated on March 17, 2010
Tags: Sleep, Horror, New, Aiden, Le, Krow, Dreams, Nightmares, Torture, Mystery, Suspense, Thriller, Macabre, Murder, He had it coming, zzzz

Author

Aiden Alyx
Aiden Alyx

CA



About
I am a writer that writes from the perspective of both genders under the aliases of Aiden and Alyx. Everything is still me, I just have, well, MANY sides to me. more..

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