Summer Creative Writing Contest 2021: ‘Nightmares’

The Palisadian-Post is running a selection of winning pieces from the 2021 Pacific Palisades Library Association’s Summer Creative Writing Contest, which featured the theme “Help!”

The following piece was penned by Julia Musumeci, who was awarded second place in the high school Authors category.

Nightmares. Everyone has them, everyone hates them. They are the convoluted dreams that haunt our subconscious, and they are the fears that plague us in the daytime. Nightmares are the shadows of a dark alley, the mysterious glare of a stranger. They are pure things gone rotten, left to decay in the deepest darkness of our minds, and whatever shape they might take, they will torment us forever. Because shadows never go away.

My vision is blurred, and darkness fades in and out of my sight, like clouds moving over the moon on a starry night. I look down to see my hand and realize that it’s tinted in a deep scarlet color. My other hand tightly grips the leather handle of a knife. I move my eyes up to a cloaked figure in front of me, and I’m scared frozen. He smiles wickedly at me and laughs. His laugh is the sound of helicopters flying too close and the screams of fear and sorrow that surround us. He looks down, pointedly. My eyes follow his and I choke back a scream at the sight laying at my feet. A boy, about my age, slain and dead, his eyes white and dull. He is surrounded by a pool of redness and the smell makes me sick. Suddenly, I’m running, running away from this man, running through his shadows. I push through the massive pack of people, yelling at them to turn around. They are purely faceless, yet I am somehow able to focus on the desperation and panic of their eyes. I am, after all, wearing a bloody shirt and holding a knife. What have I done? My heart sprints with me, trying to finish a race I never knew I started. Nothing makes sense anymore. The boy’s fallen body, the bright lights, and the never-ending blur of people make my head spin and spin around and suddenly I see the man’s white, bony fingers grabbing my arm. I scream, but only the silence of my throat comes rushing out. Everything is dark and I’m falling down and down into oblivion—

A moist and warm towel brushes the length of my face and neck. My fingers tingle and I gasp as I fly upwards.

“Sarah!” my best friend, Hayden, yelps. “Sarah, wake up!” This time I hear the edge to his voice. It’s full of fear.

My head pounds with confusion and leftover panic. I feel hungover, but I’ve never drunk any alcohol before in my life. “Coffee,” I rasp while white hot spots prick my eyes. “Please.”

Hayden snaps his fingers to my sister, who is standing in the doorway. She rolls her eyes visibly and stalks off. He stares at me expectantly, but I don’t acknowledge the look. I don’t ask why he is here, standing in my house, and holding a warm towel at the side of my bed. My eyes slide to the right and focus on the clock. I don’t ask him why he’s here at 8:37 a.m. either. These are all questions that in the end, don’t change anything.

My eyes are still lost in my nightmare. The knife, the blood, the darkness. There’s too much silence and suddenly I can’t breathe. I gasp and bend over to drop my head on my knees. The boy’s face, with his parted lips and white skin, plays in my mind many times. The headache pounds and the visions have left me in the dust, leaving me to pick up the pieces they created.

My sister knocks on the door, Hayden motions her in with a single finger, and she tiptoes in with a warm cup of coffee in her hands. I reach for the cup and sip it down. The familiar, bitter taste warms every inch of me. I try not to notice that my hand is shuddering in fear and effort.

I can feel Hayden’s eyes on my face, studying my features and I do everything in my power to look worse. To have my skin look grayer, my bones frailer, my lips dry and cracked. I would do anything to stay inside right now and avoid facing reality.

“Why are you here?” I whisper. It doesn’t matter, but I still want to know.

“You know why,” he breathes, running a hand through his dark hair.

“Well, my answer is no,” I smile at him. Every couple of days, Hayden comes to visit me, always with the same request. Come outside, into the real world. My answer is always the same.

After a few moments of silence, he clears his throat. “Hey,” he whispers, his voice soft.

“I’m fine,” I stop him. His tone changed and I don’t need to hear his speech.

“No, you’re not. You need to go outside and find some new people to talk to, Sarah. Your nightmares are getting out of hand, your imagination is on the loose and you need to tame it.” “My imagination doesn’t like being tamed.” My face flinches, while the millions of nightmares run through my mind. Each one is horrifying. Each one is filled with bloody knives. He strokes the patterns on my fingers, and just this small act of affection causes tears to well up in my eyes. “You’re going to have to face your fear one day. And I’d do anything to be by your side, when you do, so that if you need … I’ll be there to hold you up.”

Usually, I would already be plunging my face in my pillow, rejecting any thoughts of going outside and yelling at my sister to take Hayden out. Perhaps it’s the intensity of the dream or his comforting words, but for the first time, I let the thoughts of walking outside linger and evolve. My could-be future flashes slowly in my eyes. I don’t even realize I’ve started to smile.

Hayden taps my shoulder and smiles calmly. He has no rush. “Come on Sarah. It’s time. I’ll hold your hand the entire time, I promise.”

“This will be a nightmare,” my voice shakes. But is there anything worse than mine?”

“That’s where you’re wrong, Sarah. I know that this is going to be a wonderful dream, the type of dream that you wish to never wake up from. The best thing is, you won’t have to.”

He holds out his hand and I see that I have a choice. To move on, or stay like this forever. Forever seems too long. With a shaking breath, I reach out and grasp his hand. Don’t let this be a nightmare, I pray.