Wrong House …. [DON’T SLEEP]

She was shivering next to me.

Her brown eyes were wide, her pale skin chalky from fear. She didn’t know what to do in this situation.

But I did.

It was just the three of us at home. My father, my girlfriend and I. Only a week ago, some guy had laid hands on her, and didn’t take her rejection well at a festival. The creep did his research well. He knew who I was, he knew who she was. Only hours earlier, he had sent me a text.


She was petrified but not to the extent it would freeze her. There was a toughness behind her eyes that belied the fear. My father and I readied ourselves the best we could. He was wearing my plate carrier, with the home’s only firearm, a loud shotgun. I wanted him to be as protected as possible. He was older, not as mobile and I loved my father just as much as my girlfriend.

He chose to cover the front door and living room. I was crouched next to him, ready to move into the adjoining kitchen and rear door. We both ignored the other end of the house where there was a long corridor with bedrooms that lined it, left, right and centre.

They turned up at the witching hour. 0100 HRS

It was pitch black, but their use of shitty phone lights gave them away. They had fake Federation Square uniforms, that they had somehow pilfered somewhere. It featured the old logo and bought a shiver down my spine. The creep, Michael, had truly done his research. He knew where I worked. He knew where I lived. He was ready to kill me for her.

He knew a lot about me. He had prepared extensively for this moment. Michael was ready to play. But there was one thing he didn’t know.

He didn’t know my capacity for savagery.

I counted 15 of his cronies entering the front yard, through the living room window. They split up into two groups, with Michael staying with the bigger group that crept slowly up the stairs to my front door.

The other group circled back to the rear, all 7 of them, holding pistols, bats and knives. I grabbed my girlfriend and placed her at the base of the kitchen, where she couldn’t been seen or hit by gunfire. Whispering to her that if I told her to move, she was to hang onto my belt, I waited for her to nod and squeeze my arm before letting go.

I had two weapons on hand. A large tactical axe that I was going to use to carve a hole in the wall that would let me escort my girlfriend away, into the neighbours if things went truly south. This axe, I left beside my girlfriend. The other was in my hand.

The large knife in my palm was my favourite. An all black CRKT M16-14LEK with a tanto blade. It was the only fighting knife in my arsenal and gripping it, I felt cold, hard and sharp like the blade.

I counted two men and winced when I saw one of them jam his crowbar into the door and wrench it open.

The first man came through the door, as quietly as he could, pistol first.

His breathing was loud. Mine, crouched at the connecting door to the kitchen was shallow and silent.

He took another half step. I stepped towards him, my masked face right up to his, my eyes burning with anger, as my hand grabbed the barrel of the pistol and turned it towards him, whilst the knife blurred with speed and went straight under his jaw.

He gagged.

I twisted the knife twice.

Blood rushed out.

The guy behind him went to scream, but I kicked the dying pointman into him and grabbed the pistol simultaneously.

Thud. Thud.


Thud. Thud.

I executed both of them without hesitation. One shot to the pointman’s head, another quickly into the chest of the guy behind him, who tumbled down the tiny flight of stairs of the back door, gasping for air. As he looked up in horror, my last two shots entered his eyes. The rest of the 5 men stared at their dead buddy before looking up at the kitchen.

They bought their guns to bear.

Just as my father’s shotgun roared to life and I heard the windows of our living room shatter to hell, as 3 men went down at the front door and the rest ducked for cover and began firing up at the house in earnest.

This froze the rear door men just long enough for me to scatter back and disappear into the darkness of the house.

Two of the men ran past the rear door, deciding to make entry at the end of the corridor. The last three paused, unsure of what to do, when one of them motioned at the window that could see into the living room, through the kitchen. One of them nodded and got out his bat, hitting the window in earnest.

The other two went for the rear door, but just as they climbed the tiny flight of stairs and paused, I stood up from behind the cover of the kitchen and pulled the trigger as fast as I could.

The two heads disappeared in a cloud of blood and brains.

Spinning around, I kicked myself back just as the guy with the bat came through the window with a loud bang. He swung his weapon lustily at me, knocking the pistol away. I scrambled back, dodging his swings, before my girlfriend came up from behind him and grabbed his bat arm.

Before he could grab her, my knife entered his brain the same way the point man died.

Pushing his dying body to the ground, I looked over at her and pushed her down again, before grabbing the pistol and reloading it with spares from the dead men. Grabbing another pistol, I tossed it to my dad in the living room, who nodded seriously at me.

I gave him an open palm, my fingers splayed out and then creating an X with my arms.

5 dead.

My father returned the signal. 4 on his side.

He motioned for me to check the rest of the house, before standing up tall and firing off 3 rounds from the shotgun in quick succession before ducking down again.

I wanted to convey my gratitude to my father for protecting us, but he already knew how I felt and the best thing I could do for him and my girlfriend was to keep killing.

Moving through the kitchen, and towards the rear of the house, I looked down the dark corridor and saw shadows move.

My pistol barked again, defensive and angry. Two more men went down, this time their screams of pain was enough to silence the gunfight outside, which allowed my father to send 3 more to hell, but at a cost, as he took a round to the vest and went down hard.

Michael lowered his pistol with a savage smile and rushed the door to press his advantage. Every single member of his team was now dead, except him. But he didn’t care. He also didn’t know that the men at the back had died. All he wanted his prize. He craved the girl. He demanded subjugation and blood.

I wasn’t going to let him have anything.

Michael pre-fired through the front door before charging into the living room, eager to finish the mysterious man with a shotgun. But he didn’t check his corners. I was waiting for him, my tactical axe in hand.

I wanted this man to pay. He couldn’t take rejection. He wouldn’t keep his hands to himself. He had raised arms against me.

I was going to take them as repayment.

Michael walked through the door, pistol leveled at my father.

I swung the axe.

Hand and gun fell to the ground.

Michael looked down in shock. He couldn’t believe it.

One moment, his hand was there, the next …. it was on the floor, and now a bloody stump was all that was left at the end of his arm.

I allowed him to stare. Then he looked up at me.

Our eyes met.

Then his went wide, as the axe’s blade buried itself between them.

It was then, I woke up.

Author’s Note:

Another DON’T SLEEP. But this time, the nightmare was a direct result of a very jealous subconscious.

This was a very dark, power fantasy that I genuinely dislike. The violence is too graphic and disturbing for me to fully condone and I thought it was so twisted that I had such a dark nightmare just because I got jealous of a situation where a random guy I’ve never met or heard of, got handsy once with a girl.

I honestly dislike this side of me so much. I should be so much more mature and learn to let things go better, but I suppose in a way this is my maturity coming out. I can’t help these feelings, but I can help how I deal with them and make sure they don’t poison things in the future.

In a lot of ways, it’s been a very long time since something this dark happened and I guess I should be grateful about this reminder, because I know there is something twisted inside me and it pays to be cautious and vigilant against that part of me.

I’m not happy that I had this dream but it was necessary to have it. But, at least I know that I won’t let it poison things inside of me, because it is out, it is explored and it is now dealt with properly, through writing and self analysis.

The darkness is always within, but these writing exercises and honesty with those I care about, is what keeps it in check.

~ Damocles.

Sawfish …. [DON’T SLEEP]

The girl who beckoned to me had previously forced herself onto me.

It was at work, after the shop had closed. We were just alone, this attractive, lithe Asian girl whose eyes had long suggested something between us. I was attracted but I knew that I couldn’t. I was with someone else.

Yes, it was long distance, but I had no intention of breaking our bond.

But my guard was down, and I was tired and in need of something more from my life. Already my girlfriend’s face was fading after so long an absence. This girl was here and she could offer me something that I craved.

So when I walked into the back room, and she pressed herself against me … I didn’t resist. Instead of pushing her away, my hands grabbed at her. I lifted her uniform and my hands eagerly savoured the taunt curve of her hip and waist. It was warm, soft and firm.

She lifted my shirt and her hands reached around to my back and something inside me broke in two. One half was desperate, my hands reaching up to unclasp her bra, then marvelling at the curve of the spine running down to the taunt bottom. The other half was screaming at me to stop.

I was detached from my body now. I went through the motions, pinning her against the shelf of our storeroom and thrusting wildly. We were animalistic about it. There was nothing subtle or gentle. She wanted me, and my body wanted her.

Then, it was over. Just like that.

We were breathing heavily at each other, half naked, her eyes and mouth locked in a lascivious grin, her tongue running across her lips sexily, her legs locked around me.

The conscience that was screaming for me to stop, felt raped. There was a strange sense of regret, guilt and shame about the whole thing. I had betrayed myself and my girlfriend for a quick fuck in the back room of the shop I worked at.

But my body had been separated from my human side. I was now on a strange autopilot.

As the girl hopped off my waist, and began to pull her jeans up and doing up her bra, I mimicked her motions, still in vague shock at what had happened.

Was I raped? But I engaged in it. So why does it feel like rape?

As we left the store together, the girl was holding my hand. She was leading me elsewhere. The same naughty lights in her eyes shone brightly. She wasn’t done with me yet. I could tell that she wanted another round.

Come with me her siren song sang. I know a place with a pool, I know you’ll love.

As we walked to the pool, I noticed that the night had turned dark and that there was something strange going on. She seemed to know that I was entirely under her spell. When I would reach out to grab her, she would dance away, just out to reach. When I leant in for a kiss, she would duck and pout teasingly.

Don’t be so impatient! Your reward will come soon. she sang.

In what only seemed like a short minute, we came across a huge swimming centre. It was an all glass affair with tall ceilings and a shimmering light that could only come from reflections across a huge body of water. I felt something strange tug inside of me as we neared the place.

Strangely the girl was also hesitant. However, sensing my trepidation, she pulled me forward with a determined look.

As we entered the swimming hall, a strong smell of fish assaulted my sense. I was disturbed, as was the girl, but we kept moving forward, the promise of sex somehow overcoming our nervousness.

It was then, we came across a large gym hall, with the traditional wooden floorboards and a gathering of over 100 Asian men standing around a huge collection of tanks.

We walked slowly amongst these men, their shadowy features coming into sharp focus by the movement of light bouncing off water. They looked strange, their teeth filed to narrow points and their dirty faces were smeared with something dark and viscous.

I looked in horror, as one of the men plunged his hands into a tank and pulled out a fish, and without hesitation, dropped it into boiling water, melting the poor thing instantly.

The churning water turned red instantly and the man, smiling crookedly at me, reached in with his bare hands and ate the still writhing fish with his filed teeth.

I was disgusted and horrified. Black, congealed blood sprayed upwards and onto the man’s face, which was closed in ecstasy.

Where the fuck am I? Is this some type of illegal fish market? What the hell is going on?

I could see another man gnaw the head off a lobster with his teeth, before sinking his fangs into the shell and gnashing furiously at the flesh. Soon the entire congregation of men were eating fish. The sounds of teeth smashing together, through flesh and scales churned my stomach.

My body began to shiver and the girl, now afraid, crept closer to me.

I felt sickened by the strange display before me, as rare fish after rare fish was given the boiling treatment and whilst they were alive, were crunched and savaged by these strange Asian men.

It was then though, that something began to disturb the fish. They began to trash about in their tanks, a frenzy of water erupting from their movement. Water sloshed over the tank lids as fish began to scramble every which way. Suddenly all the lights went out and the water in every tank began to pulse strangely.

The Asian men froze, their traditional robes whipping around as water splashed their feet. Suddenly the first smooth, bony blade sliced through the floor and stabbed one of the men right through the middle of his torso and lifted him in the air, gurgling and dripping blood everywhere, as he screamed and trashed in the empty air.

I stared at the blade, transfixed by its size and strange appearance. It looked like the saw from a sawfish. With its dull discolouration, sharp ridges and edges, I was struck by ancient it looked. It was also big, at least 5 metres or more long and easily the width of a large human thigh.

It was then, I saw blades burst through everywhere. Floorboards shattered underneath everyone’s feet and even the walls came alive, slicing every which way. Splinters of wood flew everywhere and suddenly everything was a frantic melee of bone-saw blades, flesh and water.

I ran away, unable to trust the floor, as saw-blades sliced through the floor, hitting men, tanks, fish and each other. It was a horrific display of ancient power. These men had angered some ancient force, some evil that had resided in this centre.

It was bizarre to see so many blades crisscross with each other, especially at one particular area in the centre of the hall, where there were nine blades all clashing, bending and rubbing furiously against each other, vying for space and targets. Not even the walls were safe as these blades shot out and stayed in place, creating obstacles for me to run and dive through.

Somehow the girl was still behind me, her mischievous smile, now replaced by a terrified gasp.

I ran blindly through the hall, ducking and dodging blades and came across a few lone survivors. One Asian man had come up with a strange technique. He had somehow grabbed one of the blades with his hands and was now using it to seal up areas where the saw-blade could come through.

With trembling, bloody hands, he made a path to the nearest window. Despite the pain and the fact that he would no longer use his hands, he continued to make a path for us, as the girl and I huddled close to him, ducking as saw blades came through gaps in the path.

Catch, seal. Catch, seal. Catch, seal.

The other survivors following us were trying to block more saw blades coming through but slowly they succumbed, the hallway to the exit soon covered in blood, saw-blades and ripped flesh.

The last Asian man smiled as he laid down the final blade in front of a window and was about to leave, when a saw blade ripped right through his chest, from behind. The strange demonic entity had shot the saw-blade from afar, whistling it past my face and right into him.

He screamed, bloody spittle spraying the air. He clawed at freedom beyond the window, but died before he could take another step. I was frozen, terrified of how close I had come to death. It was then I noticed the force of the blade had shattered the window. Acknowledging his sacrifice, I dove past him and out in the air.

The girl also leapt behind me, but just as she smiled a final sigh of relief, a saw blade punched right through her chest, in between her breasts and she tumbled forwards in mid-air.

It was horrible … as the blade drilled itself in the ground, the girl was still affixed atop the blade, her arms hanging loosely down, her face slack of any emotions, her chest open for all to see.

I stared at her, and a strange sense of relief overcame me.

My rapist is gone. She can’t tempt me anymore.

It was then, I woke up.

Author’s Note:

DON’T SLEEP is going to be a series that you won’t see often, because it deals with a very rare occurrence: my dreams.

Well, more accurately, my nightmares.

It is these type of bizarre experiences that always convinces me that going to bed early is a bad idea. I have noticed that only when I go to bed early, I get these strange dreams that eventually turn into nightmares.

I am also vaguely concerned that I got no idea where these dreams get these inspirations from either. The saw blades and the fish market are very bizarre, surrealist elements that I got no idea behind the symbolism of either of them.

To address the heavier themes in this dream, will take a bit of work, but here goes.

The feeling of rape was a truly bizarre feeling. I felt this peculiar mixture of shame, pleasure and horror and it was ridiculously confusing. I knew that everything was wrong, but somehow I derived pleasure from it. It was unpleasant to experience and I only felt more shame knowing that I cheated on my girlfriend in this dream.

It’s definitely a sign of how much I miss her, and perhaps a sign of how insanely desperate for action I am, to have these drastic and very lucid dreams.

But it doesn’t excuse the behaviour in the dream. I somehow acted like I was above it, that the girl was to blame.

That isn’t true and it’s unfair to her. Sex isn’t a one way street. So in a lot of way, my relief at seeing her dead, was a lot like a guilty man committing a blameless crime. A bizarre instinct to pin the blame on the dead, who can’t argue back.

It was such a complex issue to disguise in the trope of a horror film. The set up seems so obvious, the haunted place, the punishment of the sexually promiscuous, the strange escape and the men themselves.

I am also very puzzled why Asians were such a prevalent theme behind all the “horror.” Perhaps this has a lot to do with all the pressure the community has inflicted on me recently, and my fear of them. I have a very low opinion of them at the moment, so that probably explains why all the bizarre fish men were Asian.

I don’t know why the act of eating fish alive and cooked in that way repulsed me. Maybe it was a call back to Gollum, or something more primal inside of me. But I know that I was really disgusted by how inhumane and cruel these men were to the fish.

The saw-blades were a random inspiration. I know that when I was young, I used to say the sawfish was my favourite marine animal, but to have them appear here, as tools by a vengeful fish entity is warped to say the least. I know I was particularly repulsed by having so many blades in close proximity to each other, and that is definitely one of the defining images from this nightmare, that is seared into my mind.

The Asian girl in question, is very much an amalgamation of all the attractive features I see in Asian women. Slender, slim bodies, that can wrap around you and well … do the nasty in tight, cramped spaces. I never really pictured her face clearly, but I’m glad I didn’t because honestly, it would be a bit too much.

The idea of us having sex at my workplace’s store room is definitely a sign that I got a weird fetish about that and I’m not sure I’m comfortable knowing that now. It is gross, but hey, if nightmares or dreams don’t reveal deep things about you, then it’s not very good.

Still, her death shook me awake. I have this adverse reaction to seeing women killed, especially ones I have just made love to, even if it was regretful and hateful sex. The sight of her, looking like that scene in Cannibal Holocaust (1980) was the final straw that broke me out of that nightmare.

I felt this strange sensation of mourning the lost opportunity to touch and hold her. To see the blade come out of her chest, so soon after what had transpired earlier hit me very hard and I think that was when my consciousness stepped in and yanked me out before my dream could do any more damage.

In a lot of ways, my nightmares have always been this vividly horrible experiences that combine a lot of strange elements. I don’t have them often (mostly because I try to avoid going to bed early for this exact reason) but they are memorable and highly surreal in a horrific way.

I’m not exactly grateful that I have these nightmares, but they do open the doors to something dark inside me and occasionally I should risk a look.

~ Damocles