The Night Terror

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: Booksie Classic

An account of a kid calling to his imaginary friend while he's having a fit of sleep paralysis.

'Red! Don't go Red! Stay with me. I'm scared!', I kept yelling at the top of my lungs and yet no sound came out of my mouth. Shuddering, but immovable, I lay there and watched Red take slothful steps towards the door. 
The world was moving slow and in circles, like I was tethered to an awfully slow merry go round, with the heavy horse on my chest. And yet, it was scarily fast. Seeing Red walk away sluggishly, made it more frightening. The short steps he was taking, to an extent, provided some relief as well, for I was thinking he was just in a playful mood. Afterall, he loved to tease me, play with me! He would pretend that he left, hiding somewhere in the dark, and when I would sit and start crying, he would jump at me laughing. He would tickle me when I cried too much because he could never see me cry. But at times I think now, it was him who would made me cry in the first place!
'Red, I'm stuck. Help me, please!', I tried to speak again but the air in my lungs wasn't reaching my throat. The shuddering became violent now and I was amused how Red couldn't notice it. He wasn't even looking.
Maybe it was the voices or the cluttering that made it impossible for Red to hear me, if I was making any sound at all. The world was now spinning like a top, fast but steady. And with every rotation, the cluttering grew louder. The dishes began rattling, the stereo started playing, the dogs started barking and the windows started banging. The world seemed to be in a combative mood, shouting battle cries, trying to intimidate me. I was scared, but I wasn't intimidated, 'cause I knew Red would turn around anytime then and run to help me.

I felt helpless.

The weight on my chest was getting heavier. It had pinned me down. Stuffed  Its fist in my throat and glued my eyes open. It was shaking me so violently that my eye balls were juggling themselves like balls. Vibrating, yet so still.

I couldn't see Red no more. He abandoned me. He left me at the whims of It and It wasn't in a jovial mood, It seeked revenge. 
It made me see everything, feel everything, hear everything, spun my senses out of control as I lay there waiting for the end.
I began crying. Not because I was afraid what would happen next, but because Red abandoned me. He was my drug, he was my remedy and he chickened out. In those last moments of that life, I started reminiscing how Red and I would sit and play when we were kids. Play dates, play wars, playing hide and seek, playing doctor- patient, shooting each other, killing each other and then playing dead.
He got upset once when my mother yelled at me and told me to grow up and stop imagining things. He left me for worse, leaving me at the whims of my mother.

In those last few seconds of that misery, I realised It was all me. It was because I missed Red so much. I wanted Red back. So, It made me helpless and Red would help me. It would tie me down and Red would free me. Now Red had realised it too. He left me for good this time.

Perhaps it was time to play dead again. It left. Wake up.

Submitted: March 18, 2014

© Copyright 2021 ShreyS. All rights reserved.

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