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When I was five, I remember owning a hamster my mom bought from a pet store. He didn't have a name, so let's just call him . . . Hammy, for simplicity's sake. I have only one memory of Hammy, and it isn't pleasant. Our adorable rodent had fuzzy white fur all over, with the typical innocent, beady eyes, cute whiskers and slightly chubby Pikachu build. As a mindless, ADHD child sprinting around the house with my mouth hanging open like a braindead fish, I often forgot that I was holding onto Hammy. . . Yep, and you probably already know where this is going. But let me finish anyways. One early afternoon, I decided to go on a little adventure with Hammy, bringing him downstairs and tromping into the kitchen. The poor little guy was clutched tightly in my right hand as I sped through the house, running for literally no reason other than surplus energy. Or maybe I was playing airplane with him (I forget).

I prevented Hammy from popping out between my fingers by squeezing harder each time he tried to wriggle out. Silly hamster. How else was I supposed to keep him still? If he escaped, I would've dropped him, and he could get severely injured. In my mind, I was just making sure the poor, dumb animal was safe, and nothing more. But that perspective changed fairly soon once I found myself bounding up the stairs, finally using my right hand on the polished wooden rails. In doing so, my attention caught on something bright-red covering my right hand. My mother just happened to come around the corner, peering from the top of the staircase and looking down at me. I caught her giving an expression of shock, bursting with an "Oh my gosh! Devin!" Before I really knew what was going on, I initially felt confusion, gawking absentmindedly at the bundle of twisted fur in my palm.

'Why was my hamster covered in blood? Maybe it was my own somehow?' I thought, sheerly unaware of the vice-grip I'd had while sprinting and jumping around. I was an autistic child with severe ADHD, not a physicist. This didn't make sense, until my mother hectically rushed down to grab him, an astonished look on her face. Immediately, I sensed the panic in her voice, and that's how I knew Hammy was playing airplane somewhere much higher up . . . forever. "Oh . . . No!" She said, voice rising and falling between a yell and grave disappointment. Mom sighed as she turned around, thumb and index rubbing her temples. "Thank God we didn't get a kitten." She uttered under her breath. For whatever reason, I didn't understand what she meant by that. Even though I knew deep down that Hammy was a doornail, my traumatized child-brain blocked out the truth with some good, old-fashioned bias.

The human condition, whispering comforting words into my mind, telling me Hammy was just sleeping . . . even though I knew that was bullshit. 'Good fucking Hell, how dumb are five-year-olds supposed to be?' I thought, reminiscing as an adult, now in present time. I was still at grandma's house, sitting on the couch watching television, but my eyes were staring far past the bright display of season one SpongeBob cartoons (best of their kind). My mind couldn't help linking parallels between Hammy and myself. Last night's incident had me thinking of Hammy; the agony he must've experienced from being squeezed like a sock full of crispy treats. I felt it too. The way our bones crunched; that hot-cold 'zap' that charged through us, like a lightning bolt striking through our nerves. Then finally, the suffocation and heavy taste of blood.

All the while, SpongeBob and Patrick jumped into their Imagination Box, pissing off Squidward with theirusual antics as I saw it all play out, yet not truly watching the television. A nagging numbness pulled from the inside of my chest. Despite Nickelodeon's best attempts at making people of all ages laugh, I just didn't have it in me today. My heart was pounding at the thought of me putting another creature through such overwhelming pain. Even if I was just an oblivious special child, the unnerving flashbacks still bludgeoned at my conscience. The winding tail that slowly crackled my lower spine became my fingers breaking my hamster's back, and the jaws that struck my face blended with an image of my thumb snapping Hammy's neck. The eerie image sent a sick feeling down my legs and stomach. A cold, constricting vice of smoothly flowing scales moved against me in my mind, pulling tighter, and tighter, until . . .

"Devin! C'mere!" My mother's voice bounced off the walls, breaking my dark reverie. 'Oh boy,' I thought, releasing a jaded sigh. 'that sounded like a third call. Did she call twice before?' I hopped off the sofa, rushed past the bifold doors and sped-walked down the hallway. She was still in her bedroom, presumably trying to nap, despite it being well-past three o'clock PM. Once at the end, I turned right, pushing open the door, revealing a medium-sized space with basic necessities, plus a realistic tiger plushy leftover by my aunt who'd occupied the room years before. An unintentionally permanent scowl was subtly etched into its fuzzy expression . . . Ever since I was four, that beady-eyed thing always gave me the creeps. I tried not to think about how it was just laying there on my mother's dresser, watching her as she slept through the night. Mother seemed aware enough to rub the sleep from her eyes while leaning up, staring blankly in a tired haze.

"Did anyone come in here?" Her tone cracked groggily, wearily narrowing her eyes as my expression tilted a bit.

I shook my head slowly, brow lifting into a confused expression. "I would've heard someone walking down the hall." I explained honestly. My infamously keen ears silently vouched for me. Mom blinked slowly, taking almost a minute to register my answer. "Alright." She accepted, limply falling back and plopping into the mattress. I smiled, only a mirthful breath away from chuckling. Her eyes were mostly closed now, but her sluggish voice stopped me just before I turned around. "If you're wondering why I've been sleeping all day, it's because your grandma kept me awake all night with her screaming. Sounded like she was being tortured." She said, her voice muffled beneath a heavy blue blanket.

I nodded. "Yeah, I heard from uncle. Gramdma says she feels bad." I said with a pitying smile.

"She better." Mom joked. "How dare she have hellish nightmares." She jibed sarcastically.

We each shared a brief laugh, lightening the mood. "Yeah, I can sympathize." I grumbled, speaking under my breath.

"What?" She asked.

"Nothing, just thinking out loud." I said passively.

Luckily, she shrugged it off, too tired and motionless for further questioning. Mom replied with a half-asleep "mhm", meaning conversation was now pointless. When she was no longer responsive, my stomach later guided me to the kitchen for some whole milk and cereal. I sat at the polished oak table, pouring myself a serving of Honey Bunches of Oats (not my healthiest choice). I devoured one spoonful after another, until there was nothing but milk at the bottom. I held the box mid-tilt, about to refill seconds when my Grandmother suddenly called out. "Dev! Hey Dev, come in here a minute, I need you!" She urged, voice bouncing from the lesser living room.

I lowered the box, releasing a faint breath. "Coming!" I rose my voice, pushing up from my seat and heading into the room. I entered to see Grandma reclined in the house's comfiest chair.

Her hip wasn't what it used to be, so there she sat, head tilting in my direction. "Hi sweetheart. Sorry, but could you get Tazz? I think he's hiding in my room." She requested.

Family Feud played its usual soundtracks, with Steve Harvey in the center as I nodded. "Sure, I can get'em." I replied nonchalantly.

"Thanks, dear. You're so wonderful to have around." She praised.

I smiled, caught between a 'thank you' and a 'you're welcome'. Grandma's compliments were a quality part of everyday life. "No problem." I answered, promptly walking out and heading down the hall. It was dark, despite a faded twilight blanketing the intersecting patterns of ancient burgundy wallpaper. I took a left at the end, entering grandma's bedroom. Anyone who'd been inside couldn't tell you whether the room was large or small. The room's size was subtly ambiguous, without ever being too apparent. Flipping on the light-switch proved redundant. Somehow, even with illumination, everything was still equally obscure, as if the darkness had only changed to a warmer color. Tazz's collar made that vague little clinking sound whenever he moved abruptly enough, and I could hear it rattling lightly in the shadowy cranny between Grandma's massive waterbed and the wall. 'Aww man, not this again' I thought, groaning internally.

Repressed childhood nightmares of this fucking bed floated to the surface of my mind, especially the closer I crawled towards Tazz. However, instead of pursuing him directly from one side —which would thereby chase him under the bed— I took another route, entering from underneath the waterbed's wooden framework on the opposite end. It was supposed to be a compartment composed of drawers underneath, but for whatever reason, all the drawers were missing, creating a mini network of cramped wooden vents inside. Normally, this should've been a child's dream-fort, but I had myself belly-down over the carpet, wriggling on my elbows, and squeezing through a claustrophobic, rectangular tunnel. Tazz was a pure white pomeranian, so he'd be easy to spot within the dark confines. His little collar kept rattling, and I could hear it just outside the bed's opposite end. "Heeere, Tazzy-Bear." I called, using one of his nicknames.

He shifted around again, somewhere deeper within the darkness, sending out the metallic jangle of his collar. I followed the noise, shuffling through on my elbows. "Tazz?" I raised my voice. My neck and vision strained, gazing ahead to spot the barely visible glint of his beady pupils. He stared at me directly, scooching back as I inched closer. "What's wrong with you?" I asked in a high, concerned voice. He kept withdrawing, shrinking back as I reached out to grab him. Tazz, the adorable ceaseless fluff-ball of energy, recoiling at my outstretched hand. What the Hell was going on? He never acts like this. My worry grew as I grabbed Tazz by the torso, his terrified yelp making me flinch upwards and bump my head. "Ow! Damn it, Tazz! You better not bite me!" I scolded, awkwardly dragging his fluffy butt out as I struggled to crawl backwards. He rumbled a long growl, but I ignored it.

Finally, I maneuvered my legs in reverse as they stuck out of the threshold, pulling myself away. Somehow, I managed to pull him out with me. In that moment, Tazz's entire body jolted without warning. He didn't bark, whine or yelp, just spazzing out. I paid close attention to his seemingly random outbursts, eventually observing a pattern. Eyes squinting suspiciously, I noticed the way he squirmed when facing the open closet. The door breathed directly in front of where my grandmother would typically be facing while lying in bed. It was a smallish space, but always seemed to expand with the edges of hanging silk and darkness.

Tazz kept thrashing, so I had to grasp his legs, keeping him still, so he wouldn't dart back under the bed-labyrinth. "Would you calm down?" I whispered aggressively, which to my surprise, actually seemed to work. If only I hadn't stepped closer to the closet. Our crazy pomeranian began to live up to his name, suddenly frenzying in my arms. Curiously, I decided to keep walking towards the darkness, eying that open door with a look of suspicion. Tazz only grew more agitated, starting to whimper and growl as he seized against my arms. Cold air spread over my chest, reminding me of last night. My eyes rounded wider than Tazz's, feeling the dog tremble in my arms. An abrupt spike of fear zapped up my spine, taking me aback. I physically felt the primal sensation hit me like a train; a flight instinct that humanity's artificial upbringing simply couldn't bottleneck, feeling it rise along both our necks. My fingers felt Tazz's fur hackle, proving it wasn't just me.

I felt a fleck of guilt as he started burying himself between my arms and chest. That's when my attention shifted to a strip of hanging black silk, inching back and forth to our right. Tazz went nuts, wrenching himself away from me, pushing off with his back legs. "Hey! Chill out, Tazz!" I exclaimed, fumbling to grab him. He landed on the carpet, shrieking and whimpering as he sprinted out the door, then did a sharp turn down the hallway, no longer interested in grandma's bedroom. I'd be lying if I said the fear wasn't mutual, buzzing anxiously inside my belly. For a moment, I stared ahead attentively, frozen in place as my eyes scanned the closet. I blew a sardonic sigh, assessing the situation. 'C'mon, Dev, this is stupid. It was just a nightmare!' I thought to myself. A single, ambiguous 'tap' sounded from the depths. It broke my limit, sending an involuntary surge of fear that had me darting off, not even realizing I was running. My heart galloped, but not as briskly as my legs.

A cold, tiny bead of sweat rolled down my forehead. I turned around and slammed the door loudly, not giving a care if my mother might wake up. My heavy breaths punctuated the self-chiding thoughts swarming through my mind. "Seriously!? What are you, five!?" My conscience yelled. The other half argued back with something along the lines of "It's instinct! Better to be careful than dead!" It countered. I happened to agree with both. This was just dumb, but I couldn't blame myself for being scared. There was movement in that closet. What if there were a rabid rat, or raccoon? Tazz was terrified of raccoons, and it wouldn't be the first time a critter camped in some dark, forgotten nook of grandma's house. What worried me was pondering on whether an actual animal was terrorizing my grandmother at night or not. What if there was a bat? Our whole neighborhood teemed with them at night. Just another fear to stack atop all the rest storming inside my brain.

My imagination rampaged. Now I thought I was feeling the weight of a presence beyond the door, as if something had given me chase the moment I'd jolted away. I kept perfectly quiet, trying to level out my breathing, listening to the subtle noise of muffled footsteps padding calmly over the carpet. My body froze, ears tuning in. Just behind the door's opposite end, steady, long strides pushed into carpeted wood. Had my 'imagination' ever been this tenacious before? What gave me pause was the pattern of a sound; lengthened and methodical. That was definitely four animal feet. A deliberate, steady breeze blew beneath the door, which I'd mistaken for wind. Except I knew the windows inside were closed and curtained. My legs slowly stepped backwards as I faced the door, eventually side-stepping through the hall. An instilling fear drove my heart frantic, preventing me from turning around, until I reached the entryway, where there was finally enough light.

I sped-walked towards my grandmother's location in the smaller living room, peering through the threshold to see Tazz resting on her lap. His head rose silently as he noticed me first, glaring with a cautious look. "Don't you put me back near that closet!" was likely what he thought. Grandma glanced my direction, signaling me in with her hand. "Come on in, sweetheart! Come sit with grandma." She called cordially. I smiled, sitting next to her on the couch. Grandma's hugs weren't uncommon by any means, but they were a quality comfort. Especially considering what'd happened moments ago, or last night. Concerned for her safety, I thought about the closet, bringing it up somewhat suddenly. "Hey Grandma, don't freak out, but I think there's a wild animal in your closet." I mentioned, pointing back several rooms with my thumb.

She narrowed a worried look. "Really? Well if there was, I didn't see it. I changed clothes just this morning. Whatever it is, it's hiding in Narnia." She joked, giving a bubbly laugh. Her carefree demeanor returned, making me reciprocate. I caught myself, and my smile shrank, realizing she'd distracted me. "Gramma, I'm serious. Tazz was so horrified, he couldn't even go near it. To be honest, I got a little startled myself." I admitted, holding back a frown. In truth, "a little startled" was an understatement. That closet scared me shitless . . . same as Tazz. And I still felt silly for that. Grandma continued to shrug it off, until I eventually gave up. Besides, I wasn't actually worried that a mythological beast was skulking around in her room. Just a real one, as far as reality went. Even if that were the case, I wasn't too worried. I'd bet raw cash granny could handle some measly varmint pattering around her room.

I'd hoped to ask her more about the night terrors, but I was tired, and daylight burns quickly. Later that evening, we went to a movie that I immediately forgot about after leaving the theater, got a bite at StarBucks, then covertly played GTA 4 inside of my Uncle's garage setup when we got back. Then before I knew it, the sun was setting in. I gazed absentmindedly through the kitchen window, watching that glowing red orb sink down into a darkening horizon. A creeping fear rose within me, tantamount to the dying light as I subconsciously counted each second. By the time Oak Hills swallowed its incandescence, my belly started to ache. After all that time and effort trying to ignore it; of forcing denial to shove my trauma down into the deepest recesses of my mind . . . I couldn't handle the truth. I was mentally scarred. My legs wouldn't walk to any of the beds or couches.

Like a cat hovering over water, my body went stiff, and I wouldn't get close. For that night, I decided sleep could go fuck itself. I chose to stay in the same room as before, except under a few conditions: Firstly, sitting or lying down anywhere was strictly prohibited. Secondly, Adult Swim would be playing at all times, ensuring that my teary-eyed laughter would keep me awake. And third . . . porn. Apparently sexual arousal was an effective way to stave off sleep. After setting up my unholy trinity of insomnia, my eyes glared silently at various Robot Chicken episodes. I had e621 ready on my iPhone's home-screen, tags set to "straight", "animated", and "order:score_desc". . . . No way in Hell was I sleeping. The television's light helped, flooding the living room in a tint of mechanical blue. Hours raced by with each episode, until Family Guy popped up.

Shadows of furniture danced in oscillating colors as Peter Griffin beat the living shit out of an anthropomorphic rooster across Quahog City. With my immature humor, I couldn't help cackling until my abs hurt, running out of air as I gradually descended to the floor. As I regained my breath, I leaned on the couch cushions for leverage. My body slowed, eyelids suddenly falling heavy. Without fully noticing, I rested my temple into the fabric, letting time and space slip away. Unless my imagination was just playing tricks again, I could've sworn the TV's light flicked off just before I fell asleep, leaving the living room in a dark and quiet state. Like most dreams, I wasn't myself. If anyone ever called my name, I'd snap to realization, like an amnesiac finally unearthing his identity.

My footsteps tapped lightly against the untiled grayness of a bland college hallway. I always hated Cal Poly's halls. No decorations or creativity, and completely devoid of personality or color. The doors were stupidly unpainted, displaying the dull, wooden swirls. Every boring, ugly facet cooked eternally under the gross, humming buzz of fluorescent lights. "Eugh" to all of it. Even Level Zero of The Backrooms had better style. I scanned the shoddily built corridor in every which direction, anxiously searching for an exit. No windows or maps presented any awareness of where I was. "Cal Poly fucktards" I muttered, seething under my breath. How difficult was it to sketch an aesthetic hallway on a simple set of blueprints? There's literally a million different styles, and they deliberately went with "no style".

My inner complaints droned on as I suddenly felt nature's call. A door I hadn't seen a while ago merged into my peripheral vision, causing me to glance towards it. The men's bathroom door stuck out like a sore thumb with its round, plastic blue sign. It glared from a white and textureless surface, somehow contrasting against the dismally unappealing hallways. Even if I hadn't needed to pee, I still equally needed a change in environment. So I pushed past the threshold, entering a sizable room with milky white tiles; nothing like Cal Poly's typical claustrophobic pack of stalls and sinks crowded together. This was unusually vast, with roughly twelve feet of space between a row of smaller stalls and the azure wall. The lighting was dimmer, flickering only once. I didn't see anyone with disabilities on my way in, so I headed towards the largest stall at the end.

The door was ajar; unoccupied, by the looks of it. Yet I felt a reluctance. Not a chill, eerie sensation, or anything like that. Just hesitation, seemingly without cause. For reasons I couldn't explain, I decided to crouch down, peering under the stall. No shoes, or anybody sitting inside. The air had a peculiar, reverse-pressure to it, as if it were too free and chaotic; a perfect polar opposite to the typical, heavy tension one would feel in moments of great stress. This increased my urgency to use the bathroom, but before that, I decided to take a quick peek above. Being six-three meant balancing on the toes of my feet in order to glance over the divider. It took a moment for me to register the hunched stature; the pale, naked complexion of an emaciated humanoid crouching surreptitiously, its putrid feet balancing atop the pristinely white toilet seat.

My immediate reaction was trembling horror, followed by the unfinished first vowel of "Wh-(at the fuck!?)" Stopping myself too late, the creature's hollow eye-sockets turned towards me, lifting an eroded, permanent smile without lips. I didn't stick around to see what kind of teeth it had. The moment I turned around, my shoes pattered rapidly against the tiles. A splitting, inhuman shriek echoed off the bathroom walls as I luckily remembered to pull —not push— the door, swinging it in back of me. I sprinted so fast, taking a hard left down the hall, making tiny pattering sounds with the flats of my feet. My eyes gaped forward as I sped away, hearing a crackling, metallic pound against the hinges behind me. The ghoulish blares of abominable screams flooded my surroundings like a tidal wave. My heart raced, adrenaline seizing all stations as I miraculously discovered a new area.

My surroundings broke out into a vastly stretched region of tall, gray lockers lined on either side of the walls. A drinking fountain stood within a cutout at the end. Above me, a series of vents and metal apparatuses loomed over the fluorescent cylindrical bulbs, exposed to human view like a failed construction project. I heard the loud, consecutive clinking of metal over cheap, thin carpeting; likely the bathroom door's hinges falling off. Thundering footsteps grew with pounding intensity behind me, punctuated by heaving, animalistic breaths. Paying no mind to the bizarrely naked ceiling, I kept running, brain rushing with blood as cold sweat gathered at my forehead. This was starting to look more like a liminal-space analog horror. The deafening screams piercing my eardrums from a distance behind me didn't help. I ran towards a locker, closest to the fountain.

Whatever this abomination was, it hadn't reached around the corner yet, which meant now was my best chance . . . Finding no lock attached to the handle, I carefully opened it, turned sideways and sidled inside. My fingers fumbled with the metallic slits, pulling on them in order to fully close myself in. Dry, reverberative grunts grew louder with the spindly humanoid's closing distance. As that thing drew closer, I felt the air morph slowly into madness, evident by its rapid, loudening breaths. The moment I caught sight of its pale, ugly head through the locker's four slits, I opted to bend my knees, failing on account of the cramped space. I pulled my breath and held it, watching the lanky biped's body turn steadily in a thorough scanning motion . . . searching. My muscles tensed as its face angled into view. With just a yard's distance between us, I half-expected it to spot me, assuming its empty voids for sockets functioned at all.

Before its gaze brushed me, I lifted my shirt up, stretching it over the locker's slits. Luckily, the fabric was black, making it appear as though my hiding place were dark and absent. While I'd succeeded in blocking its sight, I could still see the abomination's clammy features through widened, crosshatching threads; shadowy veins under layers of paper-thin skin pulled taut over its boney complexion. I could finally make out the creature's teeth; surprisingly white, yet serrated daggers jutting from its gray, sickly gums. His nose was merely a flat stretch of flesh guarding the hole of its skull, steadily rising and falling with each knackered breath. I could see now why its mouth needed to stay open. For a painstakingly long, six whole seconds, the humanoid's empty pits glared in my direction. My breathing slowed, rising silently until I held it in. Eternities ticked away as the demon's features burned into my retinas. I saw and heard its heavy breathing slow.

It rotated to my left, faced the hall, and resumed its chase. My heart pounded so hard, everything in sight throbbed. A numbness I could scarcely describe seized over me, causing my breath to let go. To my horror, I accidentally breathed an audible sigh of relief. The manic slapping of bare feet pattered swiftly over concrete, ending in an abrupt crash against my locker. I made it worse for myself by blurting a scream, only hastening its frenzied pursuit of me. My fingers clenched the door's slits, awkwardly pressing up to hold it in place. With how desperately I pushed, the metal edges cut raw into my fingertips. My attempt was futile, seeing how easily the creature tore it off its hinges. Two scrawny arms flung my locker's door into the opposite row, clashing loudly with other metal, revealing an emaciated demon. I had no time to react, opting to raise a leg and kick my offender, but to no avail.

He effortlessly pinched my foot with his black claws, tripping me into a stupor. My jerking movements froze at the blaring 170 decibel roar shaking every locker around me. To my deep confusion, the demon's face jerked a sharp left, facing something beyond my vision. I realized the blast of noise didn't feel like it'd came directly from my assailant. No . . . His attention was snatched into a frozen stare; a mere reflection of my own body language. In that second, all I saw was my pursuer barely able to dart a hard right, only to be seized by something below, whiplashing him into the floor with the force of whatever dragged him away. His claws couldn't even scrape against the locker's edges in time before he disappeared. Shocked and bewildered, I leaned forward to see what'd happened. I couldn't spot much, at least not on time, watching the pale humanoid's feet kick above me, cries blaring fearfully as its legs sucked up past the ceiling's darkness.

The abomination's screams were cut abruptly short, as if a vice had clenched over its jaws. Unable to budge, I heard a voice beyond the ceiling, fusing one echoey, threatening word into the very air itself. "M I N E" it rasped steadily, rumbling my ribcage with its monstrous decibels. Three seconds passed, seamlessly ending in a guttural "crunch". I heard the sound of bones snapping at a rapid pace, followed by a running liquid. A putrid black ooze spilled from the ceiling's vents, cascading over suspended light fixtures and pooling directly seven feet to my left. Muffled growls incrementally dug into the crackling squelches of bones and flesh. Puddles of blood turned to plopping chunks, which then accumulated into falling pieces of viscera. I instinctively snuck off, practically tiptoeing away with each voracious chomp that I heard, hoping to elude attention by masking my motions simultaneously as the grisly noises sounded.

A peculiar set of details faded into view as I crept ever so slowly. And by "details", I mean literally every smudge and subtle scratch revealing itself against the metal glares of lockers. Unlike before, the lights above me revealed shadows now, casting them over the previously unseen specks of dust littering the cold floors. The air's formerly chaotic energy died down, thickening into a dense, murky pressure. I felt it squeeze into every inch of my flesh, making it nearly impossible to breathe. The greater threat was directly above me, distracted by dinner, yet still kicking my heart into a speedy thrum. My flesh felt real now, permeated by a frigid air as I carefully accelerated. A loud wet "clunk" splashed into the black puddle of blood, teetering momentarily until I could discern its features. Bloody tatters of flesh clung to a roughly rounded shape, dotted with a deep pair of pits and sharp, serrated teeth on the opposite end.

I couldn't believe my eyes . . . or what I was staring at. The former nightmare was dead; fully dismembered, disemboweled, beheaded, and torn to sticky, tiny pieces. My mouth hung ajar, eyes glued to the spectacle. A seething earthquake rumbled behind me, starkly fusing with space itself. I turned around, exhausted, cold sweat dripping down my forehead. That's when I saw it . . . spectral eyes peering into me, attached to a long neck arched upside-down. It growled through a clenched, bladed grimace, causing me to stumble. Its claws dug into the ceiling, dragging itself out and crawling towards me, carrying along its muscular, winged bulk. A serpentine appendage glid hypnotically behind the approaching quadruped, providing itself as much balance as its half-folded wings. Messy streaks of dark blood stained the exploding lightbulbs, leftover by its pitch-black claws.

The entire body was like a bounding shadow, aside from a pair of white horns tinted in splotches of blood. I split a scream at its abrupt charge, but the air had a choking hold on my chest, causing nothing but a pathetic squeak of dry, silent pressure. My head ached, worsening as I turned tail and ran. What were supposed to be brisk motions halved into the sluggish heaving of my limbs. The flickering lights grew closer as I sprinted, promptly extinguishing after each loud "pop" showered me with sparks, causing my footing to stagger. I wasn't gaining speed. In fact, I was losing energy as the dragon sped up, its wings producing airy noises behind me, likely propelling itself faster. Lockers rattled in the winds of its frigid gusts. Each reverberating snarl echoed with an eldritch cadence, piercing me inside-out with its dreadful growls, as if I'd always been in arm's reach. 'How fucking long is this damned hall anyways!?' I thought, my fear tinged with anger.

No matter how close the beast's thrashing presence drew, it never lunged for a final kill, leaving me in a perpetual purgatory of suspense. 'Is it toying with me?' I wondered, jabbing my hands into the air for momentum as I sprinted like a madman. My body turned right, heading down the hallway with the least amount of darkness. For a fraction of a second, I felt the deep ocean of pressure ease off of me. Then it all returned once the stalker's ocular light casted my faded shadow onto the floor in front of me. The adrenaline-soaked gears turned in my head automatically, noting what that meant: I had to get out of sight. I felt my dread grow the closer this thing crawled; a bitterly cold, titanium-thick air that heavied my footsteps with each centimeter it gained on me. A lonely hanging cone dangled ahead of me, its bulb flickering a duff, rusty light over a room chock-full of torn mahogany sofas. There had to be at least fifty, all lined up to face a specific direction.

The room's inconsistency didn't occur to me, not while I was being chased. I only saw opportunity. My legs sprung as hard as they could, flinging me over the nearest couch. The carpet was a tacky olive color, padding my descent as I rolled sideways. My body grew lighter with the diminishing fusion of pressure, tension, and gravity. Just as I suspected, escaping its gaze meant breaking the spectral tether of weakness that slowly crushed me. For the moment, I was free . . . to hide, at least. My elbows scuttled over thready carpet, burning at the untold pace I struggled to push. I crawled behind an especially short couch, hoping my pursuer would check the taller ones first. To my dismay, the idea didn't matter. A random sofa flipped across the room, hitting the dangling light above, and rolling not too far behind me. Thankfully not broken, the bulb still flickered.

Now my movements were limited by the pendulous sea of shadow and light repeatedly blanketing across my vicinity. The hanging lamplight's faulty blinking hindered my sight, causing me to squint as I pulled myself forward, stopping at a gap between rows of soft furniture. It was like a clearing, from which I could see a brief glance of the creature's flinging tail and flexing wings. I saw its hind legs creeping, cutting off from sight beyond the distant furniture. The reverberating footsteps and pervasive growling stopped, leaving all but a mind-numbing silence. My heart beat faster than it ever had before, feeling the static of absolute stillness around me. In three long seconds, I realized how loud my breathing was, instantly opting to hold it in. Every subtle modicum of friction against the carpet blared loudly, like a crashing bayside wave. It was just one thing after another, trying to keep myself quiet; a game of auditory Wack-a-Mole. An abrupt bang exploded across the room, making my neck stiffen with fear as dry cotton and splinters rained around me.

Everything drowned under silence again twice as quickly, leaving me frozen solid. There was no time in this hellish place as I waited to be clawed down and chewed into. Whether hours or minutes had passed, I couldn't say. I glanced tremulously over my shoulder, only to see the blinking room. My oh-so-accommodating brain imagined the beast prowling directly behind me, its knees bent, head lowering into a predatory crouch . . . Nothing was there, aside from the rocking, flickering light disorienting my vision. I felt my chest tighten with pressure, desperately holding the burning air in. An abrupt motion jolted me, blurring past my peripheral vision and explosively splitting the next closest couch in half. My eyes watered as a jackhammer pounded inside my chest. I had to muster all of my courage just to glance into the clearing again, hoping to see nothing glaring back. Survival was iffy at best, if I stayed hidden. Even a hasty escape plan was better than none at all. My eyes and mind scanned quickly, observing a white projector screen. I noticed each couch was angled towards it, like a dank makeshift theatre. A small lens I hadn't noticed before protruded from the opposite wall. There was no way to access the movie projector, or any sort of door to enter that room.

A strange urge came over me in the form of instinct, spurred by fear. I needed a distraction, but also something to shine directly on this creature. My eyes narrowed at the lens, straining desperately in a panic. I quivered, fingers digging into carpet as my features tightened. 'Please . . ! Turn on!' I thought, clenching my teeth. Some part of me knew —deep down— what all of this was. Nothing happened. I sensed no reception to my command over this false reality. Forced by the dire circumstances, my mind switched ideas, trying it from a different perspective. 'It's going to turn on' I yelled internally, strongly repeating that phrase, until it hurt. 'It's going to turn on'. I thought, frustrated after the thirteenth time. My mind strained, forcing itself to believe the projector would start. For a moment, I felt my real body's eyelids clench, growing irritably tense. Every outside irritant weighed on my stubborn mind; tightening stomach, freezing-cold sweat, heartbeats throbbing in my eyes . . . Yet it all sank heavily into the sinister silence. The sensation knotted in my neck, and finally, I completely realized what all of this was. 'Wait . . . I'm dreaming!' I thought in explosive bewilderment, feeling somewhat stupid. It was obvious, yet dawning on me harder than a steel anvil as I stared into the black lens.

A glimmer of light sparked within the circular glass. The moment that happened, an abrupt snarl trailed into a fierce roar, briskly bounding towards my location, rising into reverberative bellowings that shattered the dead ambience with its earthshaking decibels. I knew now that it could hear my booming heart, especially as the beastly tantrum waned into an even eerier silence. Wherever my stalker lurked now, my primal instincts screamed at just how closely it'd crept up. The swinging lamplight halved what I could see, breeding a lingering uncertainty of wherever this creatures was hiding. I focused intently on the lens, simultaneously fighting against a false narrative that this was all real. The more I felt that concept wither away, the brighter it got. I heard the creature's growls rev up again, passing just behind my hiding place, as if threatening me to stop . . . or else. A silent anger welled up within me. 'Shut up, bitch! You're not real!' I thought, genuinely vexed. In a state of fear crossed with rebellious rage, I dumped all of my energy into lighting that tiny black circle.

The contraption flickered with difficulty, like a rusty lighter. I heard a furious growl creeping just from around the couch's base, feeling its vibrations grow inside my chest. My brain and muscles felt weak from the mounting fear, but I pushed myself to the limit, watching it flash incrementally. By the time I nearly gave up on trying, a blinding beam of dusty light shot out. I heard a pained, piercing shriek fused and echoed through the air, blasting my eardrums. I recoiled, hands clasping my ears as a wave of caution pumped another dose of cold adrenaline through my veins. 'What happened? That didn't sound like just a distraction.' I mused, thinking fast. My reluctance gave way to terrified curiosity, peeking around the fabric for only a moment. A weightless stream of vapor casted its misty shadow over the projector screen, followed by an intense sizzling noise.

I saw a wing beat behind the various couches, thrashing with my offender's struggling form as it struggled to scramble away. It didn't make sense to me . . . The beast had just recently been exposed to light minutes ago, and nothing like this happened. My legs weren't cooperating, despite me pushing them to stand up and move. I kept an intense focus on where the creature was headed, watching it drag itself by its claws. A deep, fearsome growl shook the ground and furniture, as I saw its shadowy face turn back, connecting an oddly jaded glare. Its eyes were still that spectral blue I remembered; those same orbs I recalled gazing through the sliding glass door that night. They blinked with overt dissatisfaction, narrowing a pained glare directly at me.

I watched as a nervous knot twisted in my stomach, giving a confused, fearful look. Its eyes glanced scathingly towards me, half-dragging itself back towards the hallway I'd entered from. My pupils fixed on its reluctant retreat, daringly studying the musculatures obscured by its pitch-black flesh. Its overall shape made me think of panthers and large reptiles, except with regal wings and menacing white horns. The nuanced attitude in the languid sway of its long tail spoke a thousand words, aside from two. A rumbling utterance echoed deeply in the quaking sound of its voice. “Not . . . over." She threatened through a snarl, revealing a certain cadence to her voice I hadn't noticed before; distinctly female, given—coming off a bit deep, but feminine enough to be identified.

One last swirl of smoke danced off her silhouetted figure, just before blinking out of existence with the abruptly flickering lights of the corridor. The white projector screen went dark, yet not disappearing. All that changed were the images, switching to a shadowy room, boasting a burgundy couch and other barely visible furniture. Everything was tinted in a television's shifting lights within the film's display. What had me officially squaring to my feet however, was the rising and falling chest of somebody wrapped in a pair of blue bedsheets, slumbering peacefully. I squinted, making out the features with dawning realization. My eyes widened as I leaned in for a double-take, almost in disbelief. 'Is that . . . me?' I questioned internally. It took roughly thirty seconds for me to fully understand, as if fighting a persistent brain-fog. A random Adult Swim cartoon I hated, called Squidbillies played vaguely in the silence, refreshing my memory of reality's questionable oddities. Everything became a hundred percent clear to me now, without a shred of doubt. I was asleep, and this whole misadventure was just one, long nightmare.

The projector's footage of the living room had a certain depth, revealing subtle portions of itself at an angle, as if in 3D. Curious, I realized it was no different than any other physical room, possessing its own dimensions. This detail triggered something in my mind, causing the projector's beam to shut off. I let out a gasp as the blinking room went dark. Somehow, despite the projector going cold, the screen's image still persisted. It wasn't long until a malevolent roar shook the air, blaring from the nearby hallways. The horrific sound had me scrambling; tripping over furniture in a desperate sprint for the newly created space. My heart galloped, hearing the rapid pitter-patter of scampering claws tapping heavily against the hall's distant concrete. Telling by the sound, she was charging at maximum speed, hellbent on reaching me. I heeded her noises, stumbling over couch arms in a hurried frenzy to escape.

Like before, the room was dark again. The faulty lamplight stopped swinging seconds ago, leaving all furniture ahead of me cloaked in a motionless black blanket. Everything else was left to the indecisive flickering behind me, breeding an eerie feeling of exposure. My arms angrily pushed couches out of the way as I rushed towards the exit. I heard my pursuer's hissing breath peak around the corner, nine yards to my left. Instead of freezing like I'd expected, my body went mad, practically bulleting towards the opening. Desperation hit me like a ton of bricks, spurring untapped arsenals of energy I didn't know existed. This was no longer simple adrenaline. I'd covered a great distance in moments, rushing past the front row of couches, finally feeling a glimmer of hope. As shitty luck would have it, my foot caught on a wiry, metal object surrounded in fabric and cotton. A spring jutted out of the former couch that my nightmare had destroyed, tripping me into a frontward fall. A deep, sinking sensation hardened in my chest as I landed, followed by an ethereal crushing weight imbuing the air, as if the nightmare were making one last-ditch effort to keep me there. An aura of immense density crashed around me, making my body stagger. It was like liquid iron flooding into my lungs, air squeezing against me, inside and out, kicking my heart into rapid booms.

Just like that, my struggling arms and legs became noodles, falling limp with my collapsing body. While still able to move, I felt like nothing obeyed me, trying to jerk my limbs awake, but to no avail. An unholy static brimmed into each breath I gasped, washing through me and the air alike. In a state of weakness, I barely lifted my head, watching the dragon's haunting eyes draw closer in my peripheral vision. Its pitch-black body's outlines were nonexistent within a surrounding lake of darkness, allowing me only a glimpse of two white horns curving above her eyes. They hovered, creeping closer in the air as soundless footsteps carried her remaining visible features towards me. I heaved forward, hoping to at least inch closer, eyes obsessively fixed on my slumbering body ahead. Carpet burned my dragging belly as the beastly rumbles closed several yards of distance. The demon's form ambled closer, striding with a leisurely gait, presumably to antagonize me. I'd never heard a growl so prideful; exuding such an arrogant cadence, almost like a smug, drawn out grunt. “Mine" She proclaimed, her tone dripping with venom. I felt her paralytic gaze sting through my joints, hands and limbs trembling, unsteady enough to prevent even the basest action. A wave of dread froze me stiff as my eyes widened, realizing what this meant . . . She'd been holding back until now.

Despite practically being a vegetable, a maddening drive rushed through my chest, kindling an undying urge to press on. With all the energy I exerted, my body twitched faintly, until moving in increments. Tremulously reaching for the threshold, my extended right arm was nearly exhausted, ready to drop. Even my teeth couldn't clench, no matter how hard I tried. 'C'mon . . ! Move!!' The hallows of my mind screamed, so desperately, I could see my body tighten on film. Desperate hopelessness bled into dread as I felt a serpentine grip clench my ankles. It curled and flexed, piercing a zap of pain through my body as an internal 'crunch' sounded out. A hoarse cry exploded from my throat as I doubled over in agony, only to be dragged backwards too soon. My lower body pulled and tilted upwards, leaving the rest to awkwardly dangle upside-down, like a living rag-doll. Reverberative growls rumbled through the smooth and scaly tail, rattling my fractured bones. The unholy, sinking pressure in my chest intensified, thickening the air beyond any known density. I dangled upside-down, pain shooting up my leg while blood rushed into my head.

As the beast's eyes inched closer, I saw her frustration wane, followed by a subtle smirk of satisfaction. The quaking rumbles in her throat only loudened, until my ears were flooded with growling vibrations. Why did it all have to be so real? Her breath carried hints of burnt iron, crossed with a scent I'd never smelt before . . . rotten blood. I could've sworn I'd seen the remnants of a pale finger caught between her bladed, snarling teeth. My feeble voice croaked, vainly opting for a scream, only to cough a dry wisp of air. Anxious agony throbbed in my gut and ankle, reminding me of my current handicap. As the monster's reptilian snout crept in, my physical and mental pain fermented into fear and hatred, questioning everything. 'Why?' I thought, equal parts confused and enraged. I just wanted to dream in peace . . . assuming this hyperrealistic horror-fest was a dream at all. Was this bully going to keep torturing me every night? I wouldn't be able to endure this again, not in good sanity. Real-life bullies were already disheartening enough.

My fists managed to clench somehow, regaining sensation as I shut my eyes in defiance. 'No! Fuck this!' My thoughts echoed. I felt a rushing heat race through my veins, warming flesh and blood alike with its adrenal uproar. A sudden jolt overtook my arms. Without even thinking, I reached out and jammed my thumbs into the creature's eyes. An immediate explosion of noise blared through my eardrums. The unraveling of her tail allowed a stinging rush of blood to flow through my ankle, leaving me with a limp. I plopped into the dry carpet, my muscles painfully springing to life, yet free of the demon's paralytic eyes. Her crying roars pounded inside my head and body, hammering so violently, it threatened to rupture something within my skull. The sound of heavy flapping joined a deep, bellowing roar. Couches all around me began to teeter backwards, pushed by a powerful force of wind so strong, it circulated inside the room and hindered my windpipe.

A startling bite of frost crackled the air, numbing my limbs as my brain acted on an unconscious GPS. Through the chaos, I stumbled awkwardly to my feet in a weakened state, scrambling towards the threshold on unfeeling, frigid legs. In my haste, I only saw the crystalizing carpet, frantically pushing against it with each time I fell over. The icy texture stung my fingertips, making my hands feel raw. When the anomalous cutout merged into view, I felt a spike of energy. Just as I was about to lunge forward, the furious pitter-patter of weighted legs shook behind me. Rapidly scrimmaging jaws and claws frenzied at my feet with the ferocity of a possessed lion. I glanced back, kicking her face at full-force. One of the beast's eyes were half-shut, keenly honing in on me with its remaining senses. I clenched my teeth in a panic, aiming hard for the sliver of her iris. My big toe scraped her peeking eye, drawing out another blast of draconic rage. A swish of wind whistled with the swipe of her claws, connecting abruptly with my right calf, and leaving a long, vertical cut.

The pain was real. A bacterial sting of everything she'd ever touched —including her last meal— burnt deep into my flesh. My leg muscles inflamed, twitching at the mark as I mantled myself up. I climbed into the awaiting threshold, finally leaving the echoes of my snarling offender behind. Darkness shrouded around me, dimming, then thickening once again, as if breathing. Greeted by a familiar atmosphere, I smelled the vague undertones of shampooed fur, which to my surprise, wouldn't have been detectable, lest I'd spent an inordinate span of time away. My sight adjusted through a fog of drowsiness, slowly revealing the living room from my horizontal position on the couch. With each labored breath, I felt a stubborn soreness in my lungs, as if I'd ran a mile, scanning around as my eyes gaped in post-shock. I shifted around on the cushions, cold-sweaty fingers curling into blankets, testing my tactile senses. There was sensation, but I forgot it didn't matter on account of the realistic dreams. I felt nothing but a heavy weight of paranoia pressing into me. The TV was off, with not a brush of wind outside, leaving me in peak silence.

For starters, I had a reasonable suspicion that this wasn't over, recalling the demon's threats: The heavy, foreshadowing remark “not . . . over" cycled through my mind on repeat. Second to that, I'd left the television on. And third, the pitch-black skies were silent and starless, much like my previous night of terror. I braced myself, curling into a ball wrapped in fabric, dreading the unseen horrors that waited for the worst time to burst out of oblivion, and tear into my flesh. If it meant staving off the lingering sense of evil, I'd stay curled like that all night. These inane notions of false protection did little to ease my anxieties, but at least “a little" was something. I tried not to swallow or breathe too quickly, in a morbid hope of detecting whatever might've lurked beyond the blankets. My hands manipulated a small opening in the fabric's edge, pinching it into a pin-sized slit for peeking. I scanned the room with keen intensity, eyes poring deep into every shadowy nook and cranny. Even when I irrefutably knew nothing was there, my body still remained cloaked. Ironically, as dumb as my method seemed, the creature's gaze couldn't paralyze me if it meant she couldn't see me.

My heart jackhammered against my chest, tantamount with the growing pressure of an unseen presence gazing against my fabric tent. I spread my bent knees to allow extra room on the inside, while ensuring I still held onto an enclosed opening. Needing a light source, my hands fumbled for my iPhone 7, probing along the couch's arm. I felt a mild sinking feeling as my fingers grasped nothing but the soft chenille texture. It wasn't on the armrest where I'd placed it . . . No way in Hell was I checking the floor. Just reaching out to check the empty armrest was risky enough, gambling with the chance of hidden jaws lunging out, and snapping over my wrists. The air's warmth slowly drained, as if controlled remotely. Speaking of which, I couldn't find the TV's clicker either, preventing me from producing some much-needed light. An unnaturally creeping chill permeated the room, seeping into my blankets. My fabric haven inflated with cold, until I exhaled through a shudder, barely noticing an eerie mist swirling from my breath.

The weighted presence of invisible watching eyes sent shivers down my back. An abrupt sense of alertness took me by surprise, making my stomach drop. My intuition screamed, alarms blaring. 'Look left!' Something in me shrieked, warning my oblivious conscience. I narrowed my eyes in confusion, questioning my subconscious . . . I was wrapped tight under the sheets, with only enough room for myself. That thought tumbled in my skull as I slowly turned, trembling in my neck and pupils. Electric ice rushed through my veins as I spotted two white protrusions on my left. I gaped at the pitch-black shape silently resting its weight beneath them, intentionally obscured by the lack of ocular light. A reflexive gasp seized my breath, legs kicking as I scrambled back with an abrupt jolt. My terror frenzied, flinging sheets and pillows in a fit of hysterics. I trampled the cushions beneath me, screaming like a shrill boy as the nightmare stayed unexpectedly calm. A pair of horns pierced through my only bedsheets, veiling the demon's figure as its neck slowly lifted with the rising sheet. Beneath the blanket, an azure, spectral light tinted the fabric, revealing an obscured glimpse of two furious, beastly eyes.

Helplessness and panic merged into a shout. “Why are you doing this!?" I yelled, confused and equal-parts petrified. The room's details seeped into darkness around her. A tail fluidly slithered over her covered face, curling in and yanking away the fabric. My standing body seized at the flood of azure light zapping me frozen. Initially, I thought I'd endured a stroke, muscles twitching in ways that felt wrong. Her gaze was like a draining, frigid abyss, leaving me cold and motionless. With weakening knees, I tilted forward from on top of the couch, unable to change my descending position. Fear plummeted down my chest as I fell, feeling the impact of my forehead slamming into carpeted cement. The pain was sharp, yet I stayed conscious as my face planted into dry carpet. I could still see a portion of my stalker's claws, digging into the green threads next to my head.

A low growl fused with the walls and air, trailing into an unexpected answer to my dreaded question. Her raspy, demonic tone whispered, creeping closely to my ear, placing measured emphasis on one, single word: “MINE" she snarled through clenched teeth. The sentence crawled into my ear, pushing an unholy wave of discomfort down my spine. My eyes rounded out like saucers as I stared in utter disbelief, feeling the pressure of her scathing leer burrowing into my scalp, merging with the sheer weight of her bizarre answer. I wanted to reply, but was interrupted by a briskly slithering tendril curling around my neck. Her motions were hasty, straining a choke with the maliciously strong heave of my body. My aggressor's tail launched me backwards into the couch. An impact of surprisingly harsh proportions knocked a gasp from my lungs, with cushions doing little to mitigate the crushing pain. After the blurred room returned, she vanished. Her abrupt absence cycled an endless dichotomy of relief and horror, leaving my pupils jumping between silhouetted mirages blending almost seamlessly with the shadows behind them. My vision swung left, then right, again and again, darting rapidly in anticipation of another assault.

It made no difference. The instant it happened, I quavered at the heart-wrenching sensation of a massive claw descending slowly into my chest, curling with eerily gentle precision, delivering a shock of fear and cold sweat as it pushed, threatening to pierce my skin. My breathing hastened to the point of dizziness, eyes watering in utter despair. The darkness concealed the figure looming mere inches in front of me, eventually advancing closely enough to fill out the obscured aspects of what meager vision I had. Droplets of water swelled at the seams of my eyes, giving way to tiny rivulets. For fuck's sake . . . she was right in front of me, —dead ahead as twelve o'clock— and I'd just scanned around idly, like a confused ape. My surroundings weren't so devoid of light that I'd been blinded, but without the demon's ocular glow, detecting her wasn't just difficult. Enwreathed by the shadows, her stealth was indisputably impossible to spot. There was however, just one aspect I could unfortunately sense. My face and neck flinched at the creeping tiny streams of steady, frozen wind. I gagged as her flat, crescentic nostrils blew breaths of acrid rot into my open mouth. This was the worst moment to recall the barely intact finger I'd seen wedged inside her razored jaws minutes ago, feeling like hours.

I lurched into a dry-heave, smelling the unholy scent of death mixed with an overtly worse stench; an unidentifiable odor of a deceased entity from Hell, the memory of its puddling black blood kindling the raw, mental revulsion within my olfactory senses. Burning car tires, the slush of dead seal-brains, fatal gingival infections . . . nothing I'd smelled before held a candle to this putrescent, fungal sickness. The demon's maw crept closer, evident by its loudening, bitter breaths. I could move. There was no paralysis this time. Only one thing kept me pinned to that couch, crushing the decimated vestiges of my determination. I shook, arms trembling in anticipation of another harsh assault, perspiring an abundance of cold sweat that mixed wrongly with her snakelike scales pressing into my lap. As she climbed over me, her misleadingly light frame shifted downwards, tail's taper wrapping securely —though not necessarily tight— around my right ankle. I kicked at the possessive tendril, only to feel it tighten, unintentionally pulling her hind weight down into my waist.

What felt like rapid grinding motions ensued abruptly. To my panic, they were unmistakably lecherous motions, mixed with the increasingly pungent odor of death inching closer. For a split second, I felt my head and chest fill with heat, shocked and confused by the pressure of bodily weight rubbing against me, desperately heat-seeking my off-limits zone. My quavering hands reached out, hoping to push her neck away, but I couldn't see where it was. It blended all too well with the blinding darkness, leaving me thrashing in attempts to at least brush her. Instead, I felt her weight shift over my lap, hinting at where her head kept shifting. Refusing to play this game, my arms thrusted to find my offender's shoulders, in order to locate its dodging neck.

Unfortunately, she was receptive. A tiny sliver of sky-blue light opened up, seizing my muscles into spams before I could feel out where to wrestle her off. Devastation bled into falling tears as I could only sit there helplessly, completely unable to register what was happening, despite the obvious grinding of strange flesh over my own. Her eyes weren't fully open, leaving me at a complete loss for navigation. Mortal words could scarcely describe how I felt; the air's numbing chill embodied my dread, as her unwanted carnal advances refused to become registered in my brain, leaving me too disoriented to decipher whatever could've been happening. It was the raw aspect of shock, pushing all logic aside, leaving me to stew anxiously in an unholy marinade of confusion and fear.

Her thrusts heaved harder, becoming more pronounced. Each bending lurch of the creature's barely visible form unleashed a freezing gust of wind, presumably from her outstretched wings. My lap made a wet sound akin to slapping flesh. Suddenly, my clothes were gone, having disappeared at no discernible time. I weakly lifted my right arm, barely rising enough to obstruct her motions below. Her other eye peeled open, tensing me up and immobilizing my body with another jolt of terror. It was like being zapped by a cognito-hazardous taser, left with nothing but to struggle in absolute futility. The only “win" I could manage was an overt lack of arousal, feeling her movements grow more frustrated with every muscular shift of her hips. After a minute of lascivious thrusts, an irate growl traveled through me, making me gasp in a panic while trying not to inhale her festering breath.

The beast's glowing eyes narrowed, her rumbling hisses drifting closer along with those curvy white horns. That was all I could see as her malodorous breath encompassed my air. My nostrils twitched, offended and hopeless as my eyes stung, watering at the smell, yet just as much from sheer horror. I watched as her ocular glow leaned past my right eye, jaws closing distance with my ear. A hoarse whisper filled with demonic cadence sent shivers down my back. “Make it work." She ordered, her voice commanding and tense. She punctuated her evil tone with a heavy growl, letting it practically meld into a roar. Left in an adrenal daze, I still didn't understand. I was still in shock, grappling with reality as my mind refused to dish out orders. The tail-tip at my ankle curled, digging in like an angry snake, causing my reflexes to kick in pain. “Now!" she finished curtly, making me flinch and tear up.

'What the fuck?' was my first thought. Not only had I finally realized what she was trying to do, but the request almost worked. The only interference was my recollection of her snapping my bones and drowning me to death on my own blood. Incidentally, I found dragons very attractive . . . just not this one, especially after what she did. With me, and possibly with how she terrorized my grandmother. No way in Hell was I playing into this monster's sick game. This particular dragon could go fuck itself! An ember of anger strained my neck muscles, blooming into overcharged adrenaline. Without thinking, my head lurched forward, as if breaking from a chain, ramming directly between the beast's eyes. My head was met with a solid iron surface, staggering me the moment I felt a wave of dizziness spin the shadowy room. An invading fuzziness filled out the inside of my skull, muddling my tactical senses. 'An iron object?' I thought, bewildered. 'Hadn't I head-butted the dragon?' I asked myself, unable to logic with a mild concussion.

Limp and unmoving, I laid there in abject terror, feeling the demon's tail unfurl from my ankle. The appendage slithered over my shoulder, a growl trembling from my attacker as it wrapped halfway around my neck, threatening me with its implicit suggestions. “Now," the demon ordered again, its hips twitching in reflexive motions against mine. “Or die." She threatened, voice trailing into a beastly hiss. My eyes stretched wide, mouth ajar as a dawning realization came over me. Was that really what this mess was all about . . ? The constricting . . . my cracked bones . . . the neck-breaking? Was the last nightmare simply a failed attempt at mating, gone horribly wrong; an alien ritual turned gory, all due to a certain dumb creature's glaring lack of gentleness? While intrigued for a second, I switched back to survival mode. Whatever her problem was, I wouldn't go through this again. Even if I wanted to indulge this creature —and I didn't— there wasn't a chance I'd get aroused with her rancid death-breath pouring over my face . . . or with these frigid temperatures.

I struggled to speak, lips quivering as my voice barely gave an audible response. “Your . . . br-breath . . . stinks." I forced out, hoping to upset my abuser out of spite. Either that, or reason with her. The paralysis within me expanded even further, filling out the tips of my toes as her ghastly eyes grew wide. There was a short, growly grunt as she eased the weight pressing into me. I watched her glowing sockets lurch back, blinking naturally twice in an authentic expression of self-inquiry. For a moment, I couldn't tell if the inaudible rumbles were just my body quivering, or the beast's. A subtle, barely noticeable 'huff' blew from the creature's maw, and into what I swore was her claw. The sickening odor drifted over to me, triggering my gag reflex. After watching its white pupils shrink and vibrate, I heard an airy flap beat from behind her, and just like that, the room was empty. It'd happened so quickly. Her exit was so abrupt, I dreaded getting up, in fear that she'd just retreated into covertly stalking me again.

My searching gaze scanned the darkness, eyes straining for a single hint of motion. My vision settled on the TV, which now depicted a reflection of the real living room. It was basked in a morning light, barely at the break of dawn. The sliding glass door displayed a curious scrub-jay hopping about, no different than yesterday. Wrought with hesitation, I leaned onto my feet in a dizzy stupor, as pain climbed up my ankle with each quivering step. The television's glow was natural, no longer mechanical as I reached out, touching the screen with my outstretching hand. All of my senses were bombarded with contrast. I sucked in a sharp gasp, unburying my face from the couch's cushion. Finally, normal fucking temperatures warmed my clothed flesh as I experienced an oddly pleasant lack of pain. The morning sun's rays spilled into the room, temporarily blinding me in a blanket of bright-orange. Strangely enough, a scrub-jay cawed outside, proving I'd seen it from the ethereal lens of my dream.

The white noise of gentle wind and speeding cars hundreds of miles away fused into a symphony of sweet, wonderful, waking reality. Cartoon Network played quietly in the background, having aired after Adult Swim at the time. I hadn't payed attention to whatever was airing, just holding still in a moment of mental silence. My heart pounded in memory of the harrowing experience, each shaky breath laced with traumatized relief. I felt a flood of tears threaten to breach my eyes, letting only one slide past them. My wrist wiped the crawling bead away as I postured myself up, knowing my family might hear me if I gave into the aftermath of terror. Relief soon turned into numbness, as I contemplated my night in unfeeling silence. The aromas of eggs, bacon and hash-browns swirled into an enticing blend through the door's crack, teasing my stomach. Faint sizzling emanated from the kitchen, bringing me closer to awareness.

Maybe some breakfast would help me straighten out my racing thoughts, and what'd happened . . . or why. Even though, deep down, I knew for certain, I'd never come to a valid conclusion.