A Story by Nyida Strong

I had a nightmare last night, this is the result-- story fodder. Its a rough telling and not as embellished as I could have done. Simply getting it on paper, so to speak.

This is my city, my world, and I have always fought to defend it and the people in it who I have called 'family'. I'm desperately tired from fighting for so long, but it must be done. I'm walking the streets, feeling in my gut that this night is unlike most others. The main boulevard is completely vacant, the lights from a thousand neons are dark, the only light is from my old friend, the Moon. She is shining far brighter than normal, at four times her usual size and providing more than enough light to see by.

Shadows changed and morphed in the street ahead of me, forming an androgynous creature-- neither male nor female. It materialized and cocked its head to one side, appraising me curiously. I grinned darkly, this would not end well. The shadow leveled a weapon aimed at me, a Glock .45.

The creature squeezed the trigger and I was slammed in the chest with a large caliber bullet. The pain blazed through my chest, burning itself deeper until I could feel it explode out of my back. A second round hit with the precision of the first. My feet held me for a time, but the pain and heat was turning to cold, my body was shutting down.

The world tumbled as I fell back to the unforgiving pavement. Coughing, I could taste my own blood. The realization of a punctured lung wasn't as terrifying as I thought it would be. The creature slid into my view, having made no sound. It looked down on me, nothing but shadows with the exception of the smile that spread across its lips. The face was black as night, as death, as every nightmare the world had ever known. The moonlight reflected on its teeth alone, grinning down on me as the Cheshire Cat of Alice's tale. The creature laughed in a voice that was many and one at once, both male and female and neither at the same time.

I could hear a distant word, "finally." It was whispered as soft as the first breath of creation. "Finally." The voice was not many, merely one, the last dying word of a warrior who had fought for so long and was desperate for to sleep at last.


© 2014 Nyida Strong

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Added on December 18, 2014
Last Updated on December 18, 2014
Tags: nightmare, dark, shadow, dream, death


Nyida Strong
Nyida Strong


When I first discovered my talent for writing, I was thirteen. I discovered that my loneliness wasn't the worst thing in the world. By creating other places, other worlds, other characters, I wasn't s.. more..