Grabbed

A story from a Friday the 13 Writing prompt about nightmares coming true.

Grabbed

 

It had been a rough day, and I was weary to my bones.  I undressed with slow, sluggish, mechanical movements, pausing every few seconds just to summon up the energy to continue.  I wouldn’t even bother getting undressed, but I hate the way clothes twist and tangle around my body when I sleep, strangling me.  Finally, I dropped my bra on the laundry pile, and limped out of the bathroom.  Every joint screamed with pain.  Worse, the pain in my got felt like something was swelling, in danger of rupturing. 

I fell into the bed, grateful for cool, cotton sheets and the soft, fluffy comforters that I dragged up over my body.  The surgeon had said the painful mass was a pocket of some sort of fluid.  I had to live with the pain until the rest of the tests were back.  I groaned.  The painkiller I’d taken just before getting undressed hadn’t kicked in yet.

I lay in the dark, trying to ignore my pain as I said my prayers.  I mostly succeeded, only letting the distraction cause my mind to wander a few times.  Each time, I caught myself, and went on.  I have a prayer routine, and I wanted to get through each part, unless I fell asleep first.  There was no chance of falling asleep, with the pain twisting in my gut.  I reached the end of my prayers, and made the Sign of the Cross.

“In the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit, Amen,” I whispered into the darkness.

My fingers found the Crucifix at the end of the strand of purple, wooden Rosary beads, hanging from the switch-knob of the brass floor lamp beside my bed.  I fingered the cool metal, and then kissed it reverently.

“Good night, Lord,” I added, as I usually did.

I lay on my right side, facing the empty pillow on my husband’s side of the bed.  He would come to bed later; he needed time to unwind on his own in the evening.  I closed my eyes.  Fragments of random thoughts tumbled through my mind, clamoring for my attention.  The ache in my shoulder won out over my thoughts, caught my attention, and made me roll over to my left side.  I faced the fan, which always ran in my bedroom, regardless of the season; I’d needed the white noise and moving air of an electric fan near my bed since I was a kid.  It usually helped me sleep.

Fan or no fan, I was too hot.  Peevishly, I kicked off the comforters.  The cool air blew over my bare skin.  Immediately, I was too cold.  I tugged the covers back over me, and was too hot again.  My left hip ached.  My gut burned with a deep pain.  I thrashed restlessly.

Suddenly, a hand, covered in a velvety glove, grabbed my left wrist, as it hung off the edge of the bed.  I instinctively yanked my arm away, but the hand was like a vice grip.  I couldn’t pull free.

I tried to scream, but no sound came from my throat.  I barely breathed a whimper, even though my mind was screaming as loudly as possible.

I kicked my legs to get a better position, and struggled as the hand pulled my arm further off the bed.  My face went over the edge, and I saw, to my utter disbelief, a fiendishly grinning face.  Its eyes glowed with the dark red of embers.  Its arms reached up from a crack that had opened in the floor at the edge of the bed, and I could see the black, scaly skin of its face and shoulders as it thrust up its other arm to help it pull me over the edge of the bed. 

A stench of Sulphur swirled up from the crack, and the hot air emanating from the nether region beyond the opening blasted my face, stealing my breath.

My mind continued to scream, and my mouth was open wide with the effort to force out the sound, but I couldn’t even produce a strangled whisper.

Below me, the grinning face was contorted with malice.  The fingers were closed about my wrist like steel bands.  Ineffectually, I swatted at those velvety claws with my free hand.  I couldn’t release myself from the hellish creature.

In my thrashing, my free right hand slapped against the cool metal of the Crucifix I had so recently kissed.  When I touched it, my mind cleared enough for a single thought.

“Lord, help me!”

Immediately, I felt calmer.  Instead of thrashing, I reached up to the switch-knob, and wrapped my fingers around the smooth, wooden beads.  I grabbed the Rosary, and swung it wildly at the horrible face below me.  As I did, I saw flames leap up around its chest, and oily, black smoke cloak its shoulders, as with a robe.

The creature saw the Crucifix a second before the silvery metal struck it between its hideously glowing eyes.  It let out a thunderous roar, and then the Crucifix made contact.

Hiss-s-s-s-s!

The Crucifix seared an impression of the Crucified Christ into the fiend’s forehead, white flames dancing around the shining edges, and white smoke wreathing the monster’s head.

Startled, I nearly dropped the precious beads, but I clung to them with the fingers of my right hand.

“Ask, and it will be granted unto you!”  The deep, rich, warm voice echoed through my thoughts, spreading strength and confidence through my body.

“With Your help, Lord,” I whispered, and yanked my captive left wrist free of the claw that had held it fast.

The demon writhed, clutching at its seared face, as the purifying white fire spread outward from the glowing image of the Crucifix between its eyes.  The thing howled and creamed.  Far below it, I heard anguished wailing.

The nightmare dissolved in a cloud of white smoke.  Its howls faded to nothing. 

Finally, my throat was opened, and the repressed screams of my terror poured out.  I clutched the Rosary to my chest as I rolled away from the edge of the bed.

When my husband rushed into the bedroom, responding to my terrified scream, he found me curled in a ball on the bed, naked and shivering, sobbing into my teddy bear, my purple Rosary twined between my fingers.  The metal of the Crucifix was cool against my lips as I kissed it over and over again.

“Shh… it’s okay.  It was just a dream,” my husband soothed, lying beside me on the bed in his t-shirt and sweatpants, and wrapping a large, muscular arm comfortingly around me.

“No,” I whispered, “it was real.”

It was very real.

Author's Note

Ignore typos. First reactions appreciated.

Reviews

[Diane]

Ah yeah, not that's my kinda story! Real or dream it was exciting, well for me anyways. Loved it!

[Debbie Barry]

Thanks, Diane! I'm glad you enjoyed it!