Sleep Well

His half-decayed body crunches as he slowly enters the room; your breathing stops, and your heart pounds, a deep, wet thudding. You first see his foot, behind which his wretched scarecrow form follows, dragging itself forward limply. A lump forms in your throat as you realize that there is no point in running; he never chases you, yet he always chases you. You cannot help but look at his hands: those grisly fingers, long and sharp every nail outlined by black, a contrast to their putrescent yellow color. Your eyes refuse to safely shut and unwillingly continue to crawl up his arm, spindly and spider-like, perfectly suited to his skeletal form. 
As your eyes continue up his arm, you begin to panic; your whole body freezes, and your heart wildly pumps louder and louder until it rings in your ears, a frantic beat compared to the slow inching with which he closes the gap between you. Yet, not even your whole body's rejection of his presence can stop your gaze from edging upwards. Your stomach somersaults as your eyes creep up the shoulder; you have been through this all before; that is where your eyes will meet his, where his terrifying face will smile at you, and the spiral will swallow you whole. Elbow, inches, forearm, inches, shoulder, a rippling crack shatters the fearful silence. His head droops off his broken neck, rough hair draping loosely. Get away! Look away! Anything!
But you can't.
Slowly the clicks begin as useless bones grind to turn the now hanging head towards you, close enough so that you can feel his heavy, rotten breath upon your cheek; your worst fear begins to emerge from behind the thick hair as the head revolves to greet you. The eyes, his cruel eyes flicker with mischief as they bore into you. His dark, threatening smile, a predatory, lip-less slit, the kind of malicious grin which rips the wings off of trapped butterflies, giggles as it watches an ant devoured in flame, and mutates with age. This vision has had seventeen years to mutate.
He savored this moment; your silent screaming and desperation for any kind of rescue, to him it was all so amusing. He relished playing these games with you, after all, the dark place you had banished him, far in the back recesses of your mind, made it difficult for him to make his nightly rounds. But, when he could, you were his; he could send you to soft dreams of a far-off place, only to slink up next to you and ruin the reverie, or slither out of your beloved's skin distorting the rosy softness into a garish red. Nevertheless this was his favorite scene. This was where it began, your meeting place. Where you created him out of a dark shadowy corner so vividly haunting that he relished the opportunity to drag you back here. The pastel walls, twin bed, and abandoned stuffed animals, you had repainted, refurbished, and left it a million times over. But, when you were asleep, he could always lure you back. Ensnare you in your past and feed off the childhood fear which had created him.
Helpless, vulnerable, and glued to the bed where you were once young and alone, and left defenseless, one crooked finger glides along your cheek, and the cool tone of decomposing sweetness coos, too sweetly.
"Hello dearest, I'm your nightmare man, don't you remember me?"
Your shrieks and his shrill cackle echo, as blackness consumes you. Only to spit you out into an early morning, the only reminder of your dream is a cold sweat and a reply you never managed to say; you coil up into a ball and try to remember the details which you felt so terrified of only seconds earlier. But all you can think of is an answer to a question, you'll never know you were asked:
"How could I ever forget?"

Author's Note

Be harsh :)

Reviews

[Dean Kuch®]

No harshness needed, this was dark, very eerie, and creepy all at the same time! A sadistic child molester must take on various horrific forms in the tortured minds of the ones that they abuse. Makes you shudder and chills you to the core...

[Hannah]

Thanks! I'm really glad you liked it and got out of it what I wanted you to!