The voices at night give me shivers
Running down my spine
It happens once the lights go out
Lying in bed
Covers up to my neck
As soon as my eyes get shut
The voices get closer everyday
I think I’m in danger
No one listens to me
My cries the next day
They all tell me it’s a bad dream
Yet last night I finally heard the voice clear
It spoke to me in a soft tone
Saying don’t open my eyes
Then not long after
Open your eyes if you dare
It spoke in a tongue of some sorts
I’m not safe
Only I can hear the voices
Louder and louder they get
A week went by with the voices
In bed as I had finally had enough
Someone was playing a trick
That had to be it
Turning around there were three shadows
Shivers ran down my spine as they all smiled at me
The last thing I heard was
We thought you’d never look
As they all came at me
About the Creator
Keep reading
More stories from Lost Dreamer and writers in Poets and other communities.
Disarmament
They say there's no atheism in the foxhole. While I wasn't currently neck-deep in a river of soft sediment, I was still praying to whoever would listen. Why am I doing this again? I would ponder while staring at the device that in no less than a minute could be my undoing. I scanned each and every variable panel and commonplace button as I watched the bright red L.E.D ticker countdown. No wires to cut, no code to put in, there was only one way to stop this infernal machine, and that incurred perfect timing.
By James U. Rizzi3 days ago in Fiction
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.