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- Story Listed as: Fiction For Adults
- Theme: Mystery
- Subject: Horror / Scary
- Published: 08/31/2017
Sweet Dreams
Born 1964, F, from Gordon, ACT, AustraliaSam Jackson did not want to go to school. He stood on the kerb waiting for his mum to drive away so he could maybe sneak off and play hooky for the day, but she just sat there in the car waiting for him to go.
He sighed and slung his backpack across his shoulder as he trudged through the school gates, keeping a wary eye out for his many nemeses. In the distance, he spied Fat Tom, a horrible ginger haired boy who never missed an opportunity to push him over and spit on him. Accompanying Fat Tom was Willie Rogers, a skinny, vicious little rat who would just as soon stab you as look at you, and Kenny Keyes. Kenny was a year older and bigger than the rest of his classmates, but had to repeat a year because of his “learning difficulties”. Sam figured it was closer to the truth to say he was too lazy and stupid to learn, and preferred spending his time torturing younger, smaller boys.
A couple of older boys were trying to impress girls by throwing a stolen backpack to each other while the red-faced owner dashed back and forth after his property and tried not to cry. Sam shrugged philosophically. Not his backpack, not his problem.
Sam gave them all a wide berth, and headed towards the school entrance while keeping an eye on them. An unfortunate strategy, as it turned out, because he walked straight into the worst of the worst. Literally walked into him. His heart sank as Morris (Monster) Mack turned and regarded him with his psychotically dead gaze. Sam froze in fear as Monster’s hand reached out and grabbed a handful of his shirt, methodically and thoroughly shaking him back and forth like a pit bull with a small poodle.
Just as Sam thought he was going to end his short life by vomiting all over Monster’s sneakers, his shirt ripped and he was suddenly released to glide gracelessly over the linoleum before coming to an abrupt and painful halt against a row of metal lockers.
Monster ponderously started towards him, walking slowly enough that Sam decided, rightly or wrongly, that he was giving him a chance to escape. A chance that he was quick to take advantage of, scuttling crablike along the lockers until he was able to run upright.
Sam surveyed the wreckage in the bathroom mirror. He smoothed water over his hair in an effort to tame the wild spikes, and buttoned his jacket over his tattered shirt. There was nothing he could do about the swelling bruise on his cheek, but apart from that, he didn’t look too bad. On the outside, anyway. His stomach felt a little queasy from the shaking, and his head hurt where it had connected with the lockers. He sighed, left the bathroom, and went to class. Just another Monday.
That night, Sam dreamed of being chased by someone … or something. He couldn’t see his pursuer, but he felt the menace and desire to hurt, maybe kill him. Wherever he fled, wherever he hid, he could hear the crashing pursuit. Nowhere was safe. Desperately, he turned to face his attacker, and wasn’t a bit surprised to see that it resembled Monster. Sam floated for a moment longer, then gently settled back on the ground. It occurred to him with a sense of amazement that he was dreaming … and knew it. Well, didn’t THIS change things!
He gazed thoughtfully at the beast lumbering towards him, then pushed off from the ground to soar high above the danger. He imagined a sword into his hand, then plummeted down to drive the blade deep into the beast’s skull. It threw its hands into the air before slumping to the ground. Green ooze slid from the gaping wound and spread on the ground. Sam swooped in the air in a jubilant victory dance.
A fire truck approached the scene, its jangling siren getting louder. A part of Sam knew it was his alarm clock, and he desperately fought consciousness. He wasn’t ready to give up this wonderful new world just yet. It was no good, though. His dream dissolved and blew away, and he was awake. He lay there for a moment to savour the adrenalin rush, then crawled out of bed to start another day.
Monster wasn’t at school.
The rumours started and had spread far and wide by lunchtime, then the principal called a special assembly at three o’clock. The students gathered in the gymnasium, the echoing space amplifying the young, excited voices and squeaking shoes. Finally, everyone had taken a seat on the floor, legs crossed and curious faces turned towards the stage, where the principal stood gravely before them.
“I know there have been certain rumours regarding one of your classmates,” he began. He waited for the rustling and whispering to die down again. “It is my very sad duty to tell you that Morris Mack has passed away …” his voice was drowned out by the rising tide of voices as more than two hundred children reacted to the news. Very few among them had experienced the death of someone they knew, and it was very exciting.
Sam was stunned by the coincidence, and wondered feverishly if his erstwhile classmate had died from a sword to the head. He wondered if he could be arrested or somehow blamed for Monster’s death. He sat in a daze through the rest of principal’s speech, thinking how unlikely it was for anyone who knew Monster to be particularly traumatised by his passing. He knew that was a wicked thought, but couldn’t help it.
Ronny Meister grabbed Sam outside the gymnasium. Kids streamed by them, chattering and gossiping. Not one of them would shed a tear for Monster, and Sam found that a little sad.
Ronny shook Sam’s arm to get his attention. “I heard his head got split open,” he whispered. Sam looked at him, not sure he’d heard right, but Ronny was nodding vigorously. “He was helping his old man fix the truck, and it fell on him. The metal tow bar thingie got the top of his head and split it wide open. His brains leaked out everywhere!”
Sam’s stomach lurched, a grey mist filled his head. It had to be a coincidence, didn’t it? He thought about dream Monster’s split head spilling lumpy green goo all over the ground, and thought he might be sick. He sat on a bench and leaned forward until his stomach settled and his head cleared. A teacher looked at him sympathetically, but he went otherwise unnoticed … for the most part.
Fat Tom wandered over and stood in front of him. Willie and Kenny flanked him, ready to support him in case Sam magically tripled in size and started something.
“Hey crybaby faggot, are you crying because your boyfriend’s dead?” The other two boys laughed on cue.
“He musta been in lurve,” Kenny grabbed his own crotch and made kissy noises, to the other boys’ mean amusement.
Willie pegged an apple at Sam’s head, effortlessly hitting his lumpy bruise. The other two collapsed against each other, pounding each other’s back with hilarity. Tears of pain and humiliation welled in Sam’s eyes, and he glared at the trio of bullies with murder in his heart.
“Look! He’s cr-cr-crying again!” Fat Tom and Kenny doubled over with laughter, but Willie regarded Sam curiously.
“You wanna have a go, crybaby?” he asked softly. Fat Tom and Kenny stopped laughing immediately and stared at Sam. The anticipation of violence charged the air, and Sam resigned himself to yet another beating. He stood up and tentatively jumped into the air, but came down heavily, a slave to gravity. This was real. Rats.
The three boys stepped back in surprise at the sudden move, then advanced as one, their fists curled menacingly at their sides. To Sam’s relief, a teacher sensed something untoward was going on, and started walking towards them.
“Catchya later, faggot,” hissed Willie, and the three boys walked off.
Later that night, Sam found himself walking through a meadow. It wasn’t day, and it wasn’t night. Nothing moved, it was almost like walking in a painting. It immediately struck him as an unlikely thing for him to do, and he jumped experimentally. He was elated to find himself skimming effortlessly over the grass, and wasn’t surprised to find the grass turning to road.
Fat Tom’s road, to be precise.
He found Fat Tom’s house and slid effortlessly through the glass window into his bedroom and into the sleeping boy’s dream. He was mildly surprised that, in his dreams, Fat Tom was a much thinner and smaller version of himself. And that he was scared. He ran, lost, down one street after another, occasionally looking over his shoulder with a look of terror. Sam found himself driving a car, which was pretty cool, and he accelerated towards the fleeing boy. He barely felt the bump as he hit Fat Tom, reversed over him, then drove over him again. The car dissolved, and Sam found himself standing in the road, looking at the lumpy mess that had once been the bane of his existence.
Sam smiled in his sleep.
The next day brought the tragic, terrible news that Tom Halloway had been struck and killed sometime the night before in a hit-and-run. The police were urging anyone with information to come forward, but they were yet to find a solid lead on the driver.
Two days later, Willie Rogers climbed the local water tower for reasons best known to himself, then either fell or jumped from the top of the ladder, a drop of nearly fifty metres. Every bone in his body was shattered. No-one admitted to knowing anything, and the whole thing remained a mystery.
The following week, Kenny Keyes found himself running in his dreams from a shadowy terror with blades for hands. Wherever he ran, wherever he hid, this menacing figure would find him and threaten him. When Kenny wept with fear, the figure grinned and laughed with glee.
At last, Kenny found himself trapped. He knew the demon had done playing with him. He was going to die. When the figure came closer, he realised it was Sam. He also realised this wasn’t really a dream. He suddenly knew what had happened to his classmates, and he wet himself.
Kenny came out of sleep with a start, his soggy pyjama bottoms already going cold. He heaved himself out of bed, his heart pounding with fear. Shivering in the cold night air, he quickly stripped off his pyjama pants and dried himself the best he could with a corner of the sheet. He pulled the sheets off the bed and bundled them into the laundry basket. There wasn’t much he could do about the mattress, he just hoped it didn’t smell too bad when it dried.
He wrapped his dressing gown around himself and quietly went to make himself coffee and think about what he thought he knew. It was easier to think these thoughts in the dead of night; if he considered and rejected his ideas in the sanity of daylight, it could very well be the death of him.
In his dream, Sam gaped in frustrated astonishment as Kenny turned to smoke and disappeared before his very eyes. His anger burned red, and he regretted playing with his prey instead of just dispatching him like the others. Well he may not be able to get Kenny tonight, but he had to sleep sooner or later. In the meantime, there were plenty of other kids worthy of his wrath.
That snooty Belinda Kelly, for instance. He’d asked her once if she’d like to have lunch with him, and she had laughed in his face. Then went and told EVERYONE that creepy little Sam Jackson had asked her out on a date. He’d been the laughing stock for the rest of the school year. Yes, Sam thought he might just pay her a visit before the night was through.
Belinda Kelly was absent the next day. Those in the know said she’d been attacked by some lunatic and had been hospitalised. Darker rumours swirled among the older kids that the attack had been so violently awful that she had lost her mind and had to be institutionalised.
Sam strutted powerfully around the schoolyard. Ha! If only these morons knew what was walking among them. He noticed Kenny Keyes talking to a group of boys, losers just like him, and they all turned as one and looked at him. Sam just grinned and started walking towards them. He was overjoyed when they scattered and fled.
That weekend, Kenny Keyes was attacked and killed in what appeared to be a vicious attack by some wild animal. What the police didn’t release to the public was that some of those bite marks looked to be human. They never did find who or what had killed him.
The change in Sam didn’t go unnoticed at home. His parents sat him down and lectured him for nearly an hour on his new attitude and his slipping schoolwork. His mother, to her credit, tried to blame his behaviour on the upsetting demise of his classmates. His father, on the other hand, felt that Sam needed to toughen up, get over it, to stop using recent events as an excuse for laziness. He threatened Sam with the strap if he didn’t get his act together, and soon.
Sam merely nodded and smiled at his father, but said nothing.
He looked forward to going to bed tonight.
To sleep, perchance to dream.
Sweet Dreams(Hazel Dow)
Sam Jackson did not want to go to school. He stood on the kerb waiting for his mum to drive away so he could maybe sneak off and play hooky for the day, but she just sat there in the car waiting for him to go.
He sighed and slung his backpack across his shoulder as he trudged through the school gates, keeping a wary eye out for his many nemeses. In the distance, he spied Fat Tom, a horrible ginger haired boy who never missed an opportunity to push him over and spit on him. Accompanying Fat Tom was Willie Rogers, a skinny, vicious little rat who would just as soon stab you as look at you, and Kenny Keyes. Kenny was a year older and bigger than the rest of his classmates, but had to repeat a year because of his “learning difficulties”. Sam figured it was closer to the truth to say he was too lazy and stupid to learn, and preferred spending his time torturing younger, smaller boys.
A couple of older boys were trying to impress girls by throwing a stolen backpack to each other while the red-faced owner dashed back and forth after his property and tried not to cry. Sam shrugged philosophically. Not his backpack, not his problem.
Sam gave them all a wide berth, and headed towards the school entrance while keeping an eye on them. An unfortunate strategy, as it turned out, because he walked straight into the worst of the worst. Literally walked into him. His heart sank as Morris (Monster) Mack turned and regarded him with his psychotically dead gaze. Sam froze in fear as Monster’s hand reached out and grabbed a handful of his shirt, methodically and thoroughly shaking him back and forth like a pit bull with a small poodle.
Just as Sam thought he was going to end his short life by vomiting all over Monster’s sneakers, his shirt ripped and he was suddenly released to glide gracelessly over the linoleum before coming to an abrupt and painful halt against a row of metal lockers.
Monster ponderously started towards him, walking slowly enough that Sam decided, rightly or wrongly, that he was giving him a chance to escape. A chance that he was quick to take advantage of, scuttling crablike along the lockers until he was able to run upright.
Sam surveyed the wreckage in the bathroom mirror. He smoothed water over his hair in an effort to tame the wild spikes, and buttoned his jacket over his tattered shirt. There was nothing he could do about the swelling bruise on his cheek, but apart from that, he didn’t look too bad. On the outside, anyway. His stomach felt a little queasy from the shaking, and his head hurt where it had connected with the lockers. He sighed, left the bathroom, and went to class. Just another Monday.
That night, Sam dreamed of being chased by someone … or something. He couldn’t see his pursuer, but he felt the menace and desire to hurt, maybe kill him. Wherever he fled, wherever he hid, he could hear the crashing pursuit. Nowhere was safe. Desperately, he turned to face his attacker, and wasn’t a bit surprised to see that it resembled Monster. Sam floated for a moment longer, then gently settled back on the ground. It occurred to him with a sense of amazement that he was dreaming … and knew it. Well, didn’t THIS change things!
He gazed thoughtfully at the beast lumbering towards him, then pushed off from the ground to soar high above the danger. He imagined a sword into his hand, then plummeted down to drive the blade deep into the beast’s skull. It threw its hands into the air before slumping to the ground. Green ooze slid from the gaping wound and spread on the ground. Sam swooped in the air in a jubilant victory dance.
A fire truck approached the scene, its jangling siren getting louder. A part of Sam knew it was his alarm clock, and he desperately fought consciousness. He wasn’t ready to give up this wonderful new world just yet. It was no good, though. His dream dissolved and blew away, and he was awake. He lay there for a moment to savour the adrenalin rush, then crawled out of bed to start another day.
Monster wasn’t at school.
The rumours started and had spread far and wide by lunchtime, then the principal called a special assembly at three o’clock. The students gathered in the gymnasium, the echoing space amplifying the young, excited voices and squeaking shoes. Finally, everyone had taken a seat on the floor, legs crossed and curious faces turned towards the stage, where the principal stood gravely before them.
“I know there have been certain rumours regarding one of your classmates,” he began. He waited for the rustling and whispering to die down again. “It is my very sad duty to tell you that Morris Mack has passed away …” his voice was drowned out by the rising tide of voices as more than two hundred children reacted to the news. Very few among them had experienced the death of someone they knew, and it was very exciting.
Sam was stunned by the coincidence, and wondered feverishly if his erstwhile classmate had died from a sword to the head. He wondered if he could be arrested or somehow blamed for Monster’s death. He sat in a daze through the rest of principal’s speech, thinking how unlikely it was for anyone who knew Monster to be particularly traumatised by his passing. He knew that was a wicked thought, but couldn’t help it.
Ronny Meister grabbed Sam outside the gymnasium. Kids streamed by them, chattering and gossiping. Not one of them would shed a tear for Monster, and Sam found that a little sad.
Ronny shook Sam’s arm to get his attention. “I heard his head got split open,” he whispered. Sam looked at him, not sure he’d heard right, but Ronny was nodding vigorously. “He was helping his old man fix the truck, and it fell on him. The metal tow bar thingie got the top of his head and split it wide open. His brains leaked out everywhere!”
Sam’s stomach lurched, a grey mist filled his head. It had to be a coincidence, didn’t it? He thought about dream Monster’s split head spilling lumpy green goo all over the ground, and thought he might be sick. He sat on a bench and leaned forward until his stomach settled and his head cleared. A teacher looked at him sympathetically, but he went otherwise unnoticed … for the most part.
Fat Tom wandered over and stood in front of him. Willie and Kenny flanked him, ready to support him in case Sam magically tripled in size and started something.
“Hey crybaby faggot, are you crying because your boyfriend’s dead?” The other two boys laughed on cue.
“He musta been in lurve,” Kenny grabbed his own crotch and made kissy noises, to the other boys’ mean amusement.
Willie pegged an apple at Sam’s head, effortlessly hitting his lumpy bruise. The other two collapsed against each other, pounding each other’s back with hilarity. Tears of pain and humiliation welled in Sam’s eyes, and he glared at the trio of bullies with murder in his heart.
“Look! He’s cr-cr-crying again!” Fat Tom and Kenny doubled over with laughter, but Willie regarded Sam curiously.
“You wanna have a go, crybaby?” he asked softly. Fat Tom and Kenny stopped laughing immediately and stared at Sam. The anticipation of violence charged the air, and Sam resigned himself to yet another beating. He stood up and tentatively jumped into the air, but came down heavily, a slave to gravity. This was real. Rats.
The three boys stepped back in surprise at the sudden move, then advanced as one, their fists curled menacingly at their sides. To Sam’s relief, a teacher sensed something untoward was going on, and started walking towards them.
“Catchya later, faggot,” hissed Willie, and the three boys walked off.
Later that night, Sam found himself walking through a meadow. It wasn’t day, and it wasn’t night. Nothing moved, it was almost like walking in a painting. It immediately struck him as an unlikely thing for him to do, and he jumped experimentally. He was elated to find himself skimming effortlessly over the grass, and wasn’t surprised to find the grass turning to road.
Fat Tom’s road, to be precise.
He found Fat Tom’s house and slid effortlessly through the glass window into his bedroom and into the sleeping boy’s dream. He was mildly surprised that, in his dreams, Fat Tom was a much thinner and smaller version of himself. And that he was scared. He ran, lost, down one street after another, occasionally looking over his shoulder with a look of terror. Sam found himself driving a car, which was pretty cool, and he accelerated towards the fleeing boy. He barely felt the bump as he hit Fat Tom, reversed over him, then drove over him again. The car dissolved, and Sam found himself standing in the road, looking at the lumpy mess that had once been the bane of his existence.
Sam smiled in his sleep.
The next day brought the tragic, terrible news that Tom Halloway had been struck and killed sometime the night before in a hit-and-run. The police were urging anyone with information to come forward, but they were yet to find a solid lead on the driver.
Two days later, Willie Rogers climbed the local water tower for reasons best known to himself, then either fell or jumped from the top of the ladder, a drop of nearly fifty metres. Every bone in his body was shattered. No-one admitted to knowing anything, and the whole thing remained a mystery.
The following week, Kenny Keyes found himself running in his dreams from a shadowy terror with blades for hands. Wherever he ran, wherever he hid, this menacing figure would find him and threaten him. When Kenny wept with fear, the figure grinned and laughed with glee.
At last, Kenny found himself trapped. He knew the demon had done playing with him. He was going to die. When the figure came closer, he realised it was Sam. He also realised this wasn’t really a dream. He suddenly knew what had happened to his classmates, and he wet himself.
Kenny came out of sleep with a start, his soggy pyjama bottoms already going cold. He heaved himself out of bed, his heart pounding with fear. Shivering in the cold night air, he quickly stripped off his pyjama pants and dried himself the best he could with a corner of the sheet. He pulled the sheets off the bed and bundled them into the laundry basket. There wasn’t much he could do about the mattress, he just hoped it didn’t smell too bad when it dried.
He wrapped his dressing gown around himself and quietly went to make himself coffee and think about what he thought he knew. It was easier to think these thoughts in the dead of night; if he considered and rejected his ideas in the sanity of daylight, it could very well be the death of him.
In his dream, Sam gaped in frustrated astonishment as Kenny turned to smoke and disappeared before his very eyes. His anger burned red, and he regretted playing with his prey instead of just dispatching him like the others. Well he may not be able to get Kenny tonight, but he had to sleep sooner or later. In the meantime, there were plenty of other kids worthy of his wrath.
That snooty Belinda Kelly, for instance. He’d asked her once if she’d like to have lunch with him, and she had laughed in his face. Then went and told EVERYONE that creepy little Sam Jackson had asked her out on a date. He’d been the laughing stock for the rest of the school year. Yes, Sam thought he might just pay her a visit before the night was through.
Belinda Kelly was absent the next day. Those in the know said she’d been attacked by some lunatic and had been hospitalised. Darker rumours swirled among the older kids that the attack had been so violently awful that she had lost her mind and had to be institutionalised.
Sam strutted powerfully around the schoolyard. Ha! If only these morons knew what was walking among them. He noticed Kenny Keyes talking to a group of boys, losers just like him, and they all turned as one and looked at him. Sam just grinned and started walking towards them. He was overjoyed when they scattered and fled.
That weekend, Kenny Keyes was attacked and killed in what appeared to be a vicious attack by some wild animal. What the police didn’t release to the public was that some of those bite marks looked to be human. They never did find who or what had killed him.
The change in Sam didn’t go unnoticed at home. His parents sat him down and lectured him for nearly an hour on his new attitude and his slipping schoolwork. His mother, to her credit, tried to blame his behaviour on the upsetting demise of his classmates. His father, on the other hand, felt that Sam needed to toughen up, get over it, to stop using recent events as an excuse for laziness. He threatened Sam with the strap if he didn’t get his act together, and soon.
Sam merely nodded and smiled at his father, but said nothing.
He looked forward to going to bed tonight.
To sleep, perchance to dream.
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