Ficly

Acceptance

Home late after a long tiring drive, the headlights persist in flashing by as I lie half dead in my bed; drifting; heavy lids drooping. I hear my breathing; I jerk awake – was I snoring? Nondescript images in various shades of dark wave before my eyes, as I try to relax, head inclined on thick marshmellow pillow. I pick out pictures in the blackness of my open wardrobes and hanging clothes. I begin to drift once more, and a solitary pair of headlights continue their dance, deep into the folds within the open doors. The cool damp air of my cold room chills the tip of my nose, and wafts in a distasteful odor that conjures faint fears of some unknown. Clothes sway and morph into satanic wings that engulf the eyes that peer out at me now with devilish intent. The bedding binds me and I’m unable to move as the monster forms and breaths dread and anguish. Bound and unmoving, I fall into the depths of dispair as evil eyes pierce my soul. The delicious nightmare begins.

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