His nightmares haunted him, not only in his sleep, but in his waking hours as well. Horrible images of death, bloody weapons,  and demons. They plagued him so extensively that these very images would take the place of average people he’d encounter everyday. When he was younger,  it would cause him to throw screaming fits to get away from what he’d seen. Now, he attempted to look past it all.  The more he ignored them, the more he saw. There was no peace in his life. No ‘hanging with friends’ or ‘dating’. He was an outcast by choice. Anytime someone would attempt to pull him from his perverbial rock, he would tell them what he saw when he looked at them. Sure,  most people thought he was crazy and would snap one day to become some sort of mass murderer, but that was better than the alternative. Being friends with someone that looked like some victim of an occult ritual or the very demon they were attempting to summon wasn’t ideal.

His room was painted black, and there were black blackout curtains over the window to absorb all traces of light. This was his only solitude. Most nights he’d just sit in the dark and relish the lack of murder scenes that awaited him behind closed eyes.

(Add to this story in the comments.)

Your Beloved Author,
Sandra Easter


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