Yea, imma name all my stories on here Cookies. Anyway, another story I wrote with/for my friend. It's her homework, I helped write. If you see differences in writing, yea that's the reason. Eli, this is proof I suck. ---------------------------------- It never left me alone. The demon that haunted my dreams. Every night, I tried different methods to stay awake, to no avail. I would drink coffee and energy drinks all day just to keep my eyes from closing. The image of that thing burned into my memory. Once my eyes shut, it came to life. The creature would relentlessly come and haunt me whenever I slept. It was a dark red blob that would make shapes of what I most feared and had a dark eerie voice that would haunt me in the day too. I would try running from it but, it was always there staring at me until I woke up. Once I did, I would try to forget it and say it was just a dream or a nightmare that couldn't harm me. When I fell asleep again after the monster wore off, it turned into an unending marathon that I wanted to get out of. I would tell my friends the next day but, they would just giggle and think I was crazy. After about a week, I got weary of this so I tried a different approach. My idea was to stop it before it started entering my mind. So, I made a dream catcher of wood, string, and beads. I set it up by my window and before I would sleep, I brought my shoes with me and I would keep them in my hands. But it was too late. The monster had already taken ahold of my subconscious. My reoccurring nightmare started the same as usual. Chasing me, killing my parents, my brother. This time, it talked to me. Commanded me to do things. Killing people in gruesome ways. Even in dream state, the images were unnerving and creepy. Eyes torn out, entrails placed around the body. Finally, I was able to wake up and escape the torture that was sleep. I woke up and saw my mother. I loved my mother, truly I did. But, something inside my head made me reach out and push her down the stairs. She died on impact with the cold tile floor. Of course, I cried earnestly at the funeral. I hadn't done it, the monster had. Day after day, death after death, the monster became me. I was its host. If I refused, it would fill my head with the worst pictures. It made me want to stab my head and with it all those memories. But I couldn't, if I tried harming myself, the monster would hurt anyone close to me. People found out too late. With it's evil, I had also inherited it's cleverness. Spinning out stories with all the manner of the innocent. After awhile, I didn't try to fight back. I enjoyed what I did. If it commanded me to do a 'job' for it, I would. Happily. They haven't caught me yet. I'm still there. And it's still there. Haunting your dreams. Maybe you'll be a host too.