Demonic nightmare

En historie om en indre dæmon, som altid kommer frem om natten, i dine værste mareridt. Den vil tage form efter hvem du er og hvad du har gjort, og vil vise dine handlinger mod dig som et spejlværelse. Kan du styre dæmonen, eller styre dæmonen dig?


1. Demonic Nightmare


Creed – A thousand faces.  - Music

I stand surrounded by the glass walls; knowing I'll be underneath them when they crumble, when they fall. I see at a blond hair guy, with dark honey eyes looking back at me. I raised my right hand and so did he. Unfortunately.
It once scared the hell out of me, but my clarity made me stronger 'cause now... now it's like replaying a bad episode again and again... and again.
I knew I shouldn't do it, but I did. I looked down at my feet, and saw ash and almost white glowing feathers. I took one of them in my hand, and it turned red. A red color only a murderer can recognize. “It always start with the feathers” I heard myself, and the room echoed, it 12 times afterward. I looked back in the mirror, but what I saw wasn't myself. I saw a boy smiling thousands smiles, playing with his face expression, learning himself how to smile warmly, friendly, charming, and it kept moving on, until he just looked unhappy, sad, exhausted, with none vitality. Showing things he hides, so much I hide.

I forced myself not to look behind, but it didn't last long. Wish that what I saw wasn't true, but it was. I saw the little boy again, afraid. He was chained to a stone wall, trying so hard to escape, but he couldn't. His wrist was bleeding; the blood was running down from his wrist toward his shoulder, moving like a snake. He was injured, all over his body except his neck and face. He smelled like stool. He couldn't move. The look of his expression was real, his eyes were wild, searching for something... or someone he could find any comfort with. But he was inside a mountain, with nobody. He once or twice screamed for help, but it was dark, and cold. There were no people outside anyway, and if the animal finds him, he would be dead, because they might be hungry as well. The little boy spoke “Please... Please help me...!” it was a hoarse whisper, he wanted to give up, and he wanted just to die. He wanted to get away from all the agony, just wanted to be dead, to get away from the living hell. “Somebody... Please... Kill me.” the voice was low and painful, he couldn't take it any longer.

Not a wish for a 6 year old boy.

I took a hand to one of my temple. “I have seen enough already, I get the message”. It wasn't over yet. “You can wake me up now, I think I have seen enough” it wasn't time yet. And then it came. I felt the tough, the gentle touch from somebodies hands. A warm touch from a woman. I turned to the side where I felt it, but nothing. Only the mirror to show me more... hurtful things. This time it was pain... and it hit me badly 'cause it's me. It's me and a beautiful young woman, a woman I once would have sacrificed anything for... But she got captured, and hold in prison like a rat. I looked away, but somehow I could hear her voice... Her frighten voice telling me to go away. I closed my eyes, but I saw her behind my eyelid. Standing all shaky and the tears... Her tears, she cried. Her brown hair looked dirty. Her eyes without life and her voice shouting at me; shouting me to go to hell, but to be honest I was there already. This is hell.

It's a nightmare. Remember. It's only a bad dream. I tried calming myself down.
The time made no change. I could live the past without knowing if I wanted to, but she always show her disgusting face wherever I go. Even inside my head.
Dug my grave, trashed my name Yet here I stand, so you won't fade away.
So I won't fade away.

I opened up my eyes, anything was 'normal'. The mirror walls were showing me again. My face was a mask, but I wasn't smiling. I made the same face as the boy, unhappy, sad, exhausted, with none vitality. This. This is my face. Or is it? I looked to my side and it was still me, but this one was smiling. I looked behind me and this was charming. My other side was an evil smirk. I can't find me. I can't find who I am... “Who am I?” A man voice ask. “What am I?” it continued “Why?” I answered “I'm Dean. Dean Madd Black. A Demon. Why? … Well I am who, I am born to be.” a laughter filled the room. “Wrong!” it said back.
Glass fall from the ceiling, and it hit me, I could fell something running down my face, I looked at my hands they were red. I heard a song, children were singing in a teasing voice.

                      The time is ticking, your life is gone.
                 Run little one, your time is short
                  Gone It is. Run. Gone it is. Run!
               You come, You may, you are the day.
                        Over it is, over you are.
                The time is ticking, yours as well.


My eyes searching around the room, nobody was here. Not a single one.
The broken mirrors on the floor showed something. Me... me again. But I was showing an emotion I never did before. I was crying. I wanted to see what made me sad; so sad that I for the first time in my entire life would cry. But I couldn't see anything. All my scars opened up, like they just were made, and it felt like it too. The pain form every scar felt like thousands of needles going through my shin into my bone, where it just keep on drilling. My rune in my neck starts burning like the fire hell, and I most fall to my knees of the greatest pain. I left my head and looked in the mirror in front for me. I was crying. But not tears. I was crying blood, down my cheeks and I was drowning in it. Cause I felt the blood taste in my mouth and it soon ran down my chin. I laughed, but it was only me who could hear it. The laugh wasn't more than a whisper, and it transformed into an extreme cough. I closed my tired bloody eyes. Finally.

I suddenly opened my eyes. I had a too high heartbeat, and it made worry that I one day would die of it, if it continued and then again, it wouldn't be such a bad thing after all. I could feel my eyes were searching for something, but it wasn't here. I was lying down on the earth in a forest. I turned to the other side and I saw a silver-hair guy. Drust, He was bored. “Finally.” he said in an irritating voice. “Let's move on. You have been sleeping for hours!” I smiled. Back to my life as an actor. “Sorry honey~ I just had a wonderful hot sex dream with you” Drust wrinkled his nose and answer “good for you hm?” I just smiled charming, knowing the worst nightmares you can get, is the ones where you see things you regret and hate yourself for... but you know it happened and you know you can't change them. They will always be there, as a thing called “Past”

A Nightmare with finesse
You eschew the blatant

gross-out dream or

the unrefined torture scene

for tears that run deep

your versatility knows no bounds

dreamers may find themselves

Naked at school or covered with spiders

every little phobia or deeply buried fear

can become your tool


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