The fantasy was a dream. A lucid vision of twisted memories and wants. The bitter tinge of broken promises and regrets awakened me, as bead of sweat rolled across my fore head. Her spot on the bed was empty. As it had been for awhile now. A sense of nostalgia crawled over me as I feigned that the lines in the sheets looked exactly the same as the day she left. That time had overlooked them and change never took place, But I was fooling myself. Everything changes. If a century of living hadn't taught me anything. It was that; everything changes.

As I stood quietly at Mr. Koneig's funeral I wondered whether I could look at Denise. She was standing next to me, sobbing and shaking. As her friend I should have held her hand and consoled her but I was always a sucker at social gatherings. I tilted my head to the right and looked at her, still unsure how to react if suddenly our eyes met. She had her head down, eyes closed with tears trickling down. She was holding a white handkerchief tightly in her fist, perhaps hoping to convince herself that her father had found peace at last.

This is another excerpt from my story called "A Dying Man". The excerpts I post are not in order and do not follow directly after one another. They are simply short, to the point ideas that I put on paper. Enjoy, and tell me what you think.

This is an excerpt from a short story/novella I'm working on. Enjoy, and tell me what you think.

Please Don't Let Me Sleep

To many, sleep is something that just comes and goes, a part of life so ingrained and natural it just fades into the background, never noticed, never missed. For those who can't find it, however, it's something almost like a wound, an absence of something inside of you, a hole that gnaws until the discomfort fades into the back of your mind.

The black spider with radiant evenly placed drops of white light stalks you.It's black,a silky black,no bigger than a tarantula. As soon as you close your eyes and go to sleep ,it appears. First time you see it with your dream eyes.Sleep on your side, it's better that way . You think it's a dream, until it comes too close and the white light shines on your eye lids. You wake with panic and rapid movements, scared you are. But it's not there. You hope it never happens again. Now go to sleep.

Note: This story contains adult situations and violence, not suitable for children.

“He’ll never let us leave you know.”

Alice Torres sits shackled to the frame of her bed, well, to call it her bed is not completely accurate, rather she is the beds current occupant.

As Alice continues to acclimate her eyes to the most complete darkness she has ever known, the soft voice of the little girl continues to bounce off the walls of this prison Alice now finds herself trapped in, bringing with it the true weight of her situation.

Ohio, population 239. Why such a small number? No-one knew. The only thing that anyone knew was that something big, a force maybe, was taking people. It took people from their sleep, murdered them in dark alleys or blind daylight. Two thirds of the population were missing or dead.

No-one was safe.

Most of the paint chips were missing, the windows dark, the land poor; to my own disbelief someone had once called this home. A swing set rusted, torn to shreds from the struggle of time was left abandoned, left unused.While remnants of graves were but meters from there.

This was not were I would have wished to have lived, even before much of this decay. But I have no right to ridicule the past owners. My history is not one part of this places long line. I am but an observer.

Four

'Mum,'Amelia dashed into the kitchen, 'I just had a text from Ami - she can come as well!'

'That's nice, sweetie.' Annette said absently, moving around the small table, laying out breakfast bowls and utensils. 'Could you let your dad know that breakfast won't be long please?'

'Sure.'Amelia reversed her course, and thrust her head through the doorway. 'Dad! Breakfast!'

Annette winced at the yell, and frowned. 'Such a lady,' she told her daughter. Amelia grinned, but didn't answer. 'So 'when are they coming?'

Two

The garden was as big as her father had said - bigger.

Amelia wandered aimlessly around the side of the house, one arm outstretched, fingers grazing the unruly tentacles of stray privet that separated the property from that next to it. Her arm fell, forgotten, to her side however, as she rounded the corner and gazed in surprised wonderment at the landscape before her.

Ripples
One

"Look darling; there's the house. What do you think?"

Amelia peered in the direction her mother was pointing. Across the road, through the space between two cars, the upper half of the house could just be seen over the unkempt privet barrier that obscured the lower portion.

Amelia squinted, imbuing the expression with all the precociousness her thirteen year old mind was capable of summoning. ‘It looks funny." She declared after a moment. "It looks like an old people house." Her mother laughed.

“Whoop wu-hu hoo!!”

I hobbled to the barn door and gripped Its handles tightly. I grunted and pulled with all my strength and the door groaned open. I was hit by a blast of heat and I coughed slightly as the dust nearly suffocated me, but it stopped quickly.

I scanned the musty barn, my eyes not searching for anything in particular. I already knew the location of the item I was looking for, so I wasn't hurrying. The red paint on the walls was peeling off, making me feel even older than I already was.

September 21, 2010

5: 17am

My name is James Allen; and I just killed Peggy Swanson.

Well, I killed what I can only assume was at one time young Peggy, surly this: thing that lays before me ceased being a fifteen year old girl days ago.

Like I said before, my name is James Allen, and I fear there is no way around it; I'm going to have to kill my wife. She was bitten by young Peggy, but I don't think that I can do it, I just: I can't; not again.

It caught me in the moment. Time stopped for a while, everything was blurry. Then the noise overwhelmed my senses. The machines keeping Tim alive were screaming and he was gone. I wish it was his broken mind playing tricks on him. I wished he just wanted to tell me how he loved me, but the words just didn't come out right. But somehow, his eyes were so confident and persuasive that I just knew he really means it. It was like some fucking mad prophecy you can read about in the newspapers. I didn't understand then and I don't understand now.

CHAPTER TWELVE

"Okay," Helen led the way into the dining room, "here's what MacKenzie and I have in mind.We think it should be possible - in theory at least, to piggy-back Jenna's mind, when we're Nexus." She motioned the younger woman to one of the settees. "If we can achieve that, we think that we might be able to pick up the thread that links her to her mother. Then, using MacKenzie's strength, we can boost the link, and get a sense of distance." Her lips quirked - a small, nervous smile. 'In theory, at least," She added.

The graveyard seems so peaceful today. Nobody is here, not a living soul.
But, how many dead souls are flying over and around the place? Weeping, and begging for someone to find a way to liberate them of the secrets which are holding them here, in this sad and uneasy dimension.

I come here from time to time, to speak with my brother. I know he isn't here, but I think this is the only place where he could still hear me. And yet again, maybe not; still it comforts me a little bit.

My cellphone is ringing.
White light from the display screen is flickering; lightening the dark room. Particles of dust look like silver sparkles, falling in the shadows of this terrible evening.
The floor looks black, as indelibly black as the endless abyss. But, it glows in the light of the cellphone.
Oh my God, it glows crimson - and it is wet. It is everywhere, and the sound of my feet splashing through is almost unbearable. If only I could forget - delete those frightful events of the past few three days.

The sun was shining almost blindly. The dirt bounced from the ground in the rhythm of the quick steps of boy running through the dry fields of Arizona. It was his homeland. He loved the red soil, hot and dry weather, and the canyons. The dust got in his mouth, nose and eyes, but he was running still faster until he reached the end of the canyon. He stopped, anxiously looking on the bottom. It could be hundred meters or more. It was the day of his 14th birthday and almost the day of his death. Ben barely breathed.

"Um sir, you might want to have a look at this."

"What is this; a journal?"

"Yes sir. It really explains quite a bit about what has happened."

"Peggy Swanson? What could this possibly have to do with-?"

"Trust me sir, you're going to want to read it."

"Very well; leave me."

"Yes sir!"

"Oh and cadet."

"Sir?"

"Good job."

"Thank you sir."

September 12, 2010

7:27pm

Joe palance was your so called average joe, he worked in retail and had about as many abitions as a squirrel looking foreward to burying nuts he'll forget about within 5 minutes of doing so. He slumped out bed early early monday morning to get ready for another day of Same Shit Different Day, he had followed this sad routine for over 9 years now and had lost hope in a future doing anything but put on a badge with his name.

7:00am *EEHHEHEHEHEHEHEHE*
Frank sat up in his bed and looked at his screeching alarm clock, he grunted and smashed his hand down on top of it stopping the horrible sound. It was a monday, a goddamn monday, means a fresh week of work which also means a freash week of nagging bosses and being tired as hell.