Friday, July 22, 2005

of walls and the stuff inbetween

[This one is old, probably about 10 years old, but it's always stuck with me.]

I'm alone in a room. It's small. There's only enough room for one piece of furniture: a rusty old cot with a mildewed mattress on top of it. The floor, the ceiling, the walls, everything in this room is made of three inch wide wooden planks. Hanging from the center of the ceiling is a long cord which ends in a single, bare bulb. The light is on. There's no switch. The room is full of light.

I stand petrified at the center of the room. There's a door that's locked. I don't have to try it; I just know it's locked. In fact, I really don't feel like touching anything in this room.

Somehow, just like I know the door is locked, I know that the walls are full of corpses. Stuffed between the studs in the walls, stuffed under the floor boards, even hiding under the rusty cot ... I know there are gray-faced decaying corpses packed like sardines into this stifling little room.

I can't leave. I can't sit down. I can't turn off the light. I can't touch anything. I can only stand there, terrified, while I'm watched by the corpses in the walls.

I can't take it any more and I start screaming. Instantly, the corpses start screaming as well. It's the most horrific wailing sound I've ever heard. When they begin screaming, everything shatters. The walls, the ceiling, the floor, the doors -- everything explodes into a spray of splinters and large shards of wood.

That's when the bodies begin tumbling to the ground. Amidst a rain of wood and screaming corpses, I finally can escape out the door.

That's when I woke up.

of bees and beakers

Last night I found myself trapped in a series of abandoned underground laboratories. Someone was chasing me and trying to kill me. I found my way to the extreme edge of the laboratory complex where it met up with a disused subway station. All of the doors were locked and gated. I could see small wisps of sunlight streaming down from high above.

As I did my best to stay quiet and hide, I heard a noise. At first, it was just a faint rumble. Then it became a very pronounced buzzing sound. Turns out that whomever was chasing me knew exactly where I was and had sent a swarm of killer bees through the ventilation system. I was attacked by a cloud of angry stingers. My pathetic attempts to swat them away only managed to make them angrier. Without much in the way of protection, I was stung all over my arms and my face.

Fear took over at that point and I ran back through the only unlocked door, the one leading back into the complex. Down hallways, through empty and abandoned laboratories, past creepy equipment and the green shards of broken beakers - all the while trying desperately to stop the bees from stinging me.

I managed to lose them eventually, but got completely lost myself in the process. Without any idea of where I was, I decided to simply sit down in a corner and hide. I picked the wrong corner.

As I sat down, my foot kicked a nearby door. Within seconds, the door opened. There was the man who had been chasing me. He wore a white lab coat, rubber gloves, and had blood stains (some old, some fresh) all over him. Within the room were bizarre skinless animals and humans hung from hooks so as to look like creepy mobiles. Their muscles were all visible and had been splayed out in what looked like an attempt to study them academically. They filled the room - on the operating table, hung from the ceiling, hung from the walls - and in the middle of it all, was the scientist and the two huge knives he held in his gloved hands.

He lunged at me, smiling all the while, as he tried to kill me or skin me or both. After evading him for a while, I soon found myself trapped in the corner of his creepatorium. The details are fuzzy, but I believe I threw something onto his face, a chemical from a nearby beaker. Instantly, his face caught on fire. As he stood there writhing in pain, his face melting, I reached across and flicked on the switch to a huge industrial fan that was right next to me (go figure). Distracted by his flaming face as he was, he didn't know to get out of the way of the fan. I braced myself; he didn't. And so in seconds, after the fan spun up to full speed, the flaming freak was sucked into the fan where he quickly became little more than a spray of blood and chunks of freak meat.

The end.

My nightmare gallery

So, at Amanda's suggestion, I'm creating a second blog here that's a dream journal of sorts. This way I can keep track of all the freaky, nasty things I think up while I'm asleep.

Maybe someday someone will be able to help me to not have them anymore. Who knows.

'Til then, I'll just jot them down here. I figured I'd make this thing look like the reverse of my other blog. Dunno why.