Sweet Dreams | #PlaylistPrompt

Photo by Anselme Servain

There's a certain "truth" present within dreams. This "truth" is nearly impossible to find in the real world. This is due mainly because our inhabitions and fears are manifested plainly in front of us while in the dream.

Feel like you can't get through to a friend? You may dream about a brick wall. Go to bed hungry? You may dream that someone or something is eating you.

No matter how far removed a dream might seem to be from reality, I promise it's all interrelated. I know, because I'm the one that sends the dreams.

Oh, you thought I was human. 

Ha! 

Most people do. I look human; I suppose I feel human as well, but there's no way for me to know that with any certainty. I feel fear, loneliness, love, happiness, gratefulness and regret just like the rest of you, only, I've been feeling these emotions for eons now. 

Over the millenia, I've watched as prayers, wishes, hopes and daydreams are sent out into the ether each night. People wishing/ asking for better lives. Better luck for the ones they love. For safety. I can't answer their prayers, but I can send them beautiful dreams. I try to send them the good ones, but their human minds often distort my effort into something twisted. Stress and fear can ruin the best of dreams, and if you believe nothing else from this little essay, then you should believe that. 

So, as I listened to the prayers and hopes of generation after generation, I noticed there are a group of voices stronger than the rest. Humans call them Witches. Bruja. Čarodějnice. 巫婆. Cailleach. I could go on and on...

These ones are different. 

They ask for the nightmares.

And they pray to me. In fact, they call me out by name and request horrific visions of the future. My twin brother thinks these Witches are crazy, but that doesn't stop him from doing business with them regularly... Anyway, I'm getting off topic.

Sometimes, when I see a human man circling a Witch, I'll send him a dream to warn him away. It usually works, but not always. I saw something like this just the other day.

The Witch this guy was going after wasn't as bad as some, but she has a talent for the art of hexing, and that alone makes me worry. I feel a certain kinship with human men for some reason. Maybe it's because my body resembles one, so that's how I identify, (even though I'm technically far from human).

Anyway, I sent him the dream, he ignored it. (No surprise), and now I can't find him. 

I can feel every living creature in existence when they sleep, but I can't find this guy anymore. 

It's been three days.

So, I asked my brother if that poor man had passed through his gates. When you're the god of death, you eventually meet EVERYBODY. 

Thanatos said he hadn't seen the mortal I was speaking of. I remember feeling perplexed. If you weren't alive, or dead, or asleep, then what were you?

As a god, you'd think I'd be able to answer that question, but I couldn't. The only other thing I could think to do was find the Witch and see what she was up to. Maybe she'd done something to the guy, but still, I should have been able to find him when he slept. 

When I couldn't find her either, I decided to break into her apartment and snoop around. I found a grimoire laying on her kitchen table. A book of spells, but they didn't belong to her. 

There were chairs tipped over in her kitchen like a gust of wind had knocked them on their side. Papers were strewn about the area. I saw a dog's food and water dish, but no dog. No clothes in the dresser. 

I realized then that the Witch and the guy must have ran off. But to where? Like I said, I could find them in this universe --- there was no place to hide from me. Everything that lives needs sleep, and everything that sleeps eventually dies (that's where my brother comes in). There's no getting around it. Even immortals sleep.

Feeling annoyed and outdone by a mediocre Witch at best, I flipped through the grimoire and the answer became clear. The first page of the book said the following:

"There are seven ways to open a portal to another universe. 

I know two of them, but I wish I knew none."

"Hypnos" by Taner Ceylan

I tried looking for the page that told you how to open such a portal, (because I'm a god, and even I can't do that); but of course, she'd ripped it out. 

Can you imagine what might be out there? What they might be seeing right now? I mean, I've been alive for a long time and I've never figured out how to transcend my own dimension, and trust me, I've had time to think about it. 

In closing, let this be a warning to you. Sometimes, when I send you a dream, you might want to heed my subtle warnings. Other times, it may be the beginning of the greatest adventure known to both gods and man alike. Just sayin'.

Sweet dreams.

Lars's Muse ★ Yawatta Hosby

Lars set his acoustic guitar on the floor of his hotel room. He studied his beautiful muse who laid on the bed surrounded by wrinkled red satin sheets.

Her green eyes intrigued him, and her pale skin looked perfect in contrast with the dark red. Her magenta glossed lips puckered up like she wanted to say something, but his muse remained quiet.

And quiet was exactly what he needed.

His statuesque muse was supposed to inspire his latest alternative rock song. The concert was in less than an hour, but his creative juices ran empty.

Lars sighed and closed his eyes. Damn it, think.

A wicked smile crept on his face as he picked up the guitar again. "Oh, Sweet Valentine, love is pain, love is torture," he sang to a hectic melody, his fingers strumming the strings violently.

Pill Trees

In the dark, I heard crickets as I stood in a nameless field. Cool grass brushed against my shins and I felt it under my toes, so I knew I must've been barefoot.

The moon was out. I could see a few stars. It was vivid. Clear as a bell, but somehow I knew that this place was all just a dream.

Something rustled behind me.

I turned to see a white rabbit. I didn't get the reference to Alice, or the clear symbolic significance, but I followed it blindly. Down a path lined with trees that bore strange fruit: blueish-green pills with the letter ‘M’ engraved in their middles. Pink twenties. I knew these fruits and my mouth watered. I wanted to stop and pick one. To sink my teeth into it and eat it up, then lay back on the cold grass in the meadow and ‘float’.

The Host

The host is a nondimensional being (meaning he exists in all eventualities simultaneously). He looks human and they say he's 'nice', (if that's what you were wondering).

If YOU were a nondimensional being, you'd see why he came up with "the game". He calls it #tfteotw. Tales From The End Of The World. It's basically the only way he communicates with us (humans) anymore.

I think boredom made him do it.
After a few thousand years, it gets to the best of us, even The Host. I heard that's how he got his moniker, well, our 'human' name for him.

Knots

 

Have you ever had a knot in your hair when you woke up? 

Not ‘tangled hair’. A real, honest to god knot.

One morning, I woke up with several of them tied deliberately into my hair.

I sleep alone. In a locked room with my dog.

I never forget to lock my bedroom door. Ever.

I hardly think my dog is tying knots in my hair while I’m asleep.

Dewclaws tend to make it hard for animals to do things like that.

It had to be done by something else.

Had I been sleepwalking, or sleep tying knots in my hair?

It didn’t seem likely, but I was willing to set up the camera at the foot of my bed the next night to find out. 

Wake Me Please ★ Arthur Macabe

Something wakes me.

I’m still half asleep, in that strange place between fully awake and passed out. I think about moving my body, but I’m too comfortable; my limbs wouldn’t move if I tried.

Laying on my side, I see my wife sleeping next to me, her back facing me. I sigh, thinking about how lucky I am to be with her, sharing this wonderful life with– 

WOOF!

A dog barks. That’s what woke me.

#52weeks52stories ★ January 2018

Today is the last day of January 2018. 

To keep up with my progress for #52weeks52stories, I made a video showcasing some of the stories I've completed this month! 

Writing at least one short story a week has given me a myriad of ideas! I'm super grateful for what I've accomplished so far, and I have high hopes for February!!! 

Links to stories mentioned in the video:

The Newest Me

Spine

Troll ★ Trigram Origins

Petit Demon

The Midnight Vixen

Hotel (unpublished)

Menagerie (coming soon)

Not mentioned:

Knots (unpublished)
The Man and The Mermaid
I also co-wrote some erotica, but... not brave enough to share them, so we'll just leave it at that for now. (Wink).

Menagerie should be out sometime next month, so check back to see who wins the fight... Magician or Warlock... 

Thanks for reading everybody!
And happy writing!

AK

Remember, everything is better with Amazon Kindle!!!

Today Is Not The Day ★ Hollie Hausenfluck

What if I told you all those tales from your childhood were real? Vampires only come out at night, werewolves shift at the full moon, zombies eat brains, and ghosts still linger on this earth.

You'd probably think I was crazy.

Hell, sometimes I think I'm crazy.

It all started last year. When I almost died.

Blood Bird ★ Benjamin Shelor (Part One)

It was a Sunday.

The day the kids down the lane went missing.

It was sunny, but cold; sunlight flitting through the trees like racing pixies. The fall air full of wood smoke and whimsy, changing leaves and magic.

The smell of it all would wrap around you whenever you stepped outside.

They were all kin, you see. The kids.

Two brothers and a sister.

There was Judy, Jack and Gene.

I supposed their parents thought themselves poetic, but couldn’t quite grasp what they were going for with the names was witty alliteration.

I think the beast gets a taste for a bloodline, and after that--- well, any future you might've had becomes a whisper of smoke, because your days are numbered.

Glass Witch ★ Yawatta Hosby (Interview)

The dark, three story house loomed overhead as I stood in the property’s driveway. Droplets of water fell from above, threatening to undo the curls in my hair and the makeup on my face.

I propelled myself out of the rain and up the steps. The old wood creaked under my heels as I glided to the tall front door and unlocked the house.

Today was a huge day.

I couldn’t believe my good luck.

It was my very first interview for Wicked Shorts: a blog I hosted about speculative fiction, weird fiction and horror and the person I was interviewing was quickly becoming a personal hero of mine.

Yawatta Hosby was a strong, impeccably well written author of thriller and suspense novels. She was the real deal, and she’d be here in less than ten minutes.

Jacob's Will (Part Two)

Jacob explained to me that he’d done a ‘gettin’ sort of job for Tess. He’d hidden the trinket she asked him to get for her just before he died. And when he left the world of the living, he was the only person who knew where it was. His contract with her stipulated that he’d be bound to Earth in death if he didn’t:

1. Find someone to finish the job for him, or

2. Get whatever that Witch wanted himself.

Seeing as he was a ghost, it was going to be hard for him to go dig something up, so I would have do it for him and give the trinket back to the Witch.

Two Things

Do two things each day that you wouldn't normally do. 

It seems like such a simple concept, but it changed my life.

The first thing I did different was have my morning coffee at a new shop. 

My regular haunt in the a.m. was “L.A.’s”, a trendy joint where millennials gathered every sunrise to take their coffees full of soy and sugar.

Jacob's Will (Part One)

“Jacob was a good guy.”

I stalled and wrapped my sweaty hands around the outside corners of the podium.

Tried to get my nerves under control.

“He was my best friend.”

My audience was somber, black clad and teary eyed.

The sun shone down on all of us, but its gentle warmth was ignored. The hole in the ground was distracting, and death's cold fingers reached up from it and threatened to grab us.

In just a few moments, it would swallow up my friend forever.

Shadow On The Wall

       

“Dad, there’s something in my room.”

My seven-year-old son pushed at my shoulders trying to wake me up.

I’d heard him, but I couldn’t get my body to respond as quickly as I’d hoped. I’d been steeped in slumber and it’d stuck to me.

A little drool sat on my cheek.

I sat up, wiped it off.

“I’m coming, Cade.” I grunted and rolled out of bed. It was dark, I could barely see, even after I had my glasses on.

Cul-de-sac

I live in a housing development in the suburbs of a large city. 

Every house here is very close to its neighbor. Every house has a double garage door that can be locked from the inside. Two of the upstairs bedrooms are directly above the garage, and if you are quiet or barefoot, or just sensitive, you can feel the vibration as the large metal door rolls up or down below you.

I am reading a book when I hear the low rumble of diesel fueled engines congregate outside my window. 

☰ The Stick Lady

[A Have Tools, Will Travel... Story]

I got an email today from a guy who read my original posts about my experiences in "Have Tools, Will Travel...". It was the first of many emails I've received as of late. This is easily the least disturbing one.

-Connor

***

Hey Connor,

I'm 21, I live in Ross Creek Illinois, and I am a part-time handyman. I work for my dad.

My story is kind of stupid. It doesn’t really make sense, but I thought I’d share.

I went with my dad one Saturday to help this old lady that lives a few blocks over. He was just being nice. I don’t even remember what she wanted us to do. Alls I know is when we got there, her trees were full of red string dangling twigs that had fallen onto the ground. To be clear, she took every stick that fell into her yard and strung them back up into the tree with red twine.

When I saw that, I was like, “hell no”, but my dad said he’d promised her granddaughter or something, so we stayed. The whole time we were inside the house, that old lady just kept looking out into the yard at the tree. Just wringing her hands like she couldn’t wait to get back out there and finish what she’d started.

I’m the type of guy to live and let live. But I wanna know how someone that old and feeble could get high enough up in that tree to explain all the twigs that were hanging from the very top.

J

The Rift

There's a corner in my kitchen, over where I keep the coffee pot, that seems to be part of another dimension. I know it sounds absolutely ridiculous for me to say that. I'm not crazy. I live in the real world, but I also know that a small part of my kitchen opens up to… somewhere else.

It began when I started pouring my coffee over by the coffee pot every morning. 

My morning routine goes a little something like this: without fail, I get up, come downstairs, smoke my morning cigarette, then come back inside and pour myself a cup of coffee. When I pour the coffee next to the coffee pot, the cup is nearly full. When I take the  mug over to the other end of the kitchen to add sugar and the creamer, it's half empty.

 At first I thought it was kind of cool. I figured it was a trick of the mind, or just me not being able to rely on my own eyes within the first hour of being awake every morning; but neither theory proved to be true. 

☰ Foundation Problems [Part 2]

On the way to the ‘other basement’, I felt disoriented and confused. If you can imagine trying to go down a ladder while at the same time feeling like you’re upside down, then that would explain how I fell: head first, and into what should have been the ceiling. 

It turns out the rules are quite different in the basement under the basement. I yelled up to Sam, who was just starting to make his way down the ladder after me. “Don't come down Sam, you're going to fall if you do.”

“Are you okay, we heard a thud...Where are you Connor?” I heard Sam say, his voice holding more concern than I would have expected. Don't get me wrong, Sam and I used to get along pretty well before he retired; and we still do, but ever since he's been back to work, his guard has been up and he has been non-committal in most situations. It's almost like he's trying to avoid getting close to me because he's afraid of all the on-the-job hazards we face so often. 

“I'm on the ceiling.” I pointed the flashlight down the hole from my side, and I could see Sam, Ellen and Mr. Cormick all standing around the hole looking back at me with shocked looks on their faces. 

☰Want More? I Recommend Reading...#4

What's goin' on creepy readers! Wait... that came out wrong. You guys aren't creepy, you like to read creepy! That being said, I've got another recommendation for you in this short blog series entitled "Recommended Reading", which focuses on weird fiction, short stories and flash fiction collections (with an emphasis on horror and the strange).

This book is one of my favorites because I remember originally reading this author's stories on Reddit and being very impressed. The fourth book in my series of bad ass short story compilations is (drum roll please...)

Tales of the Sinister: Twelve Terrifying Stories by Leo Petracci. The stories in this collection are longer than the bite sized fiction I talked about in the second post in this series, but they are not as long as some of the stories in Nightmare Fuel.

Like Darcy Coates, Leo Petracci is one of my favorite authors because he proves that words are powerful. Just a few of them can do the trick, giving hundreds and thousands of readers something to think about for a long time to come...

Did you read this book? Did you like it? If so, drop me a line in the comments section below and tell me which short story in this collection was your favorite. I'd love to hear from you!

Thanks for reading and until next time,

Avrin

REASSIGNMENT Coming Soon...

Undercover spy and C.I.A. operative, Gregor, thought the weirdest thing he would ever experience was switching bodies with a serial killer on death row.

Soon after the man's ”execution”, Gregor is Reassigned to his new body, no strings attached; courtesy of the United States Government for outstanding service and exceptional prowess regarding his job.

After being downloaded into someone else's body, Gregor has a new lease on life. Before Reassignment, all Gregor had to look forward to was certain death in the form of terminal cancer.

He's smarter, quicker and better than he ever has been before. Gregor couldn't have been happier. Well, that was true until things started to go wrong.

Wouldn't it be great if the serial killer was his biggest problem? Poor Gregor...