Reading in Bed


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Sadie was immersed in the book she held. She should have been asleep an hour ago, but the story was taking her deeper and deeper into itself, and  she couldn’t put the book down.

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She didn’t realize it when her eyelids finally drifted down over her eyes, and she was transported from her bed into the dreamland of the story.

It was quite a shock to find herself suddenly clad in a renaissance dress,  being hustled  up the hill by two soldiers who had no patience for her efforts to free herself from their unrelenting grip on her arms.

And no matter how hard she tried, she could not wake up from this awful nightmare. . .


The Thing


Write a new post in response to today’s one-word prompt.


Minta woke gradually, not realizing what was causing her distress. As she came up out of the fog of her deep sleep, she became aware of someone–something? at the end of her bed.  She couldn’t speak.  Couldn’t scream. Couldn’t move. She couldn’t see anything, but she knew something was there. Someone.

She tried and tried to scream for help, but her mouth wouldn’t open all the way.  Her voice was nothing more than a whisper. article-2553591-05f9dfae00000514-458_634x422

She felt the blankets being lifted off her feet, then the thing, whatever it was, slid between the sheets, and began to slowly, oh so slowly slide upward. She felt it on her foot, then her leg. She couldn’t kick, couldn’t move.  Her horror grew as the whatever-it-was continued to slide up her body. She was certain she was going to die. Her efforts to scream, to move, were useless.

Suddenly, the bedroom light flashed on.  Her husband, who was returning from a business trip, walked to the bed and shook her gently. “I could hear you screaming all the way  out in the garage. Are you having another nightmare?”

“Oh, please, please just hold me for a minute.  I’m SO glad you’re home!”


You’re having a nightmare, and have to choose between three doors. Pick one, and tell us about what you find on the other side.


Alexis struggled to pick one foot up as she set the other down. It felt as if someone were holding her ankles, making it nearly impossible for her to move. She knew she needed to run, but her body just would not cooperate. There was nothing in front of her but swirly mists, black and grey, with no light to show her where to turn.

There was no sound. She knew she was screaming, but her voice was swallowed up into the void and there was no one to hear, no one to help. The Terror was chasing her, laughing a terrible laugh as it watched her struggle to go nowhere.  How was it she could hear that awful laugh, yet her own screams were silent?

What was this terrible place? Oh, if only she could fly!  Up and away, free to soar above the horror that held her. There was no escape, and no one to help.

As the mists swirled and dipped in front of her, as she strained to see any way out,  she finally did see three closed doors. What were they?  How was she to know which one to choose?   She watched as the doors loomed ever closer.  None of them seemed a safe choice, yet she knew she had to do something! She stretched out her arm, groping and reaching to touch one of the doors.

“I don’t care which one I go through,” she thought. “Nothing could be worse than where I am now, with the Terror behind me and I can barely pick my feet up to run!  Oh, please, just let me go through one of these doors! it doesn’t matter which one!  Nothing could be worse than this. . .Oh, NO!!  NOOOOOOOOOOO!”