writing

Nightmare

Her eyes opened. She was faced with a creamy yellow wall, the sunlight striking it, and iron bars from her headboard and their shadows in between.

She breathed in and tried to roll over. She couldn’t move. Her hand, outstretched, fell between the rungs and dangled between the bed and the wall. She tried to move her hand. No reaction. She must be dreaming. She closed her eyes again.

She awoke to the same scene. Still her arm would not move. Her body would not move. She tried to call out for help, but her voice would not make a sound. She could only see her arm, the headboard and the wall again.

Caught in a dream loop, no way out. She shook with fear. Her chest tightened and she heard a low growling moan from deep inside her lungs. Still unable to move, she closed her eyes as a tear rolled down her cheek; the only sign of movement from her body.

She forced herself back to sleep. When she woke again, the scene had changed. She laid on her back, staring up to the ceiling. Darkness filled the room. Moonlight streamed across her face, but she could not turn to shade her eyes.

The nightmare continued. Unable to move, unable to speak, she could only watch. Her mind raced, trying to piece together how she got here. People came in and out of the room, never talking to her. Faces she did not recognize looked her over. She’d dart her eyes back and forth in hopes someone would at least stop and take note, tell her what was going on.

The days droned on, always with the same routines. From time to time, she would wake facing the wall, others on her back, staring at the ceiling. She couldn’t recall what happened. Overtime, she lost hope that anyone cared, that anyone would communicate with her. Finally, she stopped remembering her name. Slowly, she disappeared into nothingness.


Inspired by a prompt from Lady Jabberwocky:

What Does Fear Feel Like

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