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Ordinary Nights



Estimated reading time — 6 minutes

Dusk will find me in fits.

A pinching feeling of dread washes over me as my eyes sweep across this room. Soft, low lights etch out details of a crew of sweet stuffed animals entrusted with the task of keeping watch over me as I sleep. The purity and nostalgia they represent are to serve as comfort so that I can drift away into slumber nary a care.

My gaze then shifts beyond my bed and toward my bedroom door that is open wide, inviting the lamplight from the living room as well. I have done all that I know how to incorporate as much soothing light to illuminate the very dark corners that could harbor secrets in this heavy, black night air. If I bring everything that could be hidden to to the light, then there will be no occasion for surprise, and I will surely be safe.

And I know, I know this to be true. I know I am safe, that nothing I fear is reality. There isn’t such hogwash as the Bogeyman, and truly young adults should no longer fear such ridiculous fables. The things that go bump in the night are nothing more than a collection of what children fear the most. I am not a child. By that logic, I am showing myself to be oh so very pathetic. I pay rent here. I own this room.

I didn’t invite anyone else to stay the night. Therefore, I know that I am alone. I am safe. I am safe, and now I choose to close my eyes and go to sleep. When I wake up, I shall roll out of bed and carry out a brand new day whilst feeling the sting of quiet humiliation as sunlight replaces the need for night lights and outshines the wimpy light that these 60 watt bulbs give off.

Just as last night, and the night before…

But all I am doing this to keep her away from me always. And I have done all I can do. So by the time I am done saying good night to each member of my plush army I will be sound asleep….

…my eyelids flutter open and my chest dips as if it had caved in. I cannot inhale as easily as I could upon achieving slumber. My mind fumbles groggily, spinning out of urgency; out of panic.

“Get up!” I try to whisper. I hope to rouse myself into action, calming myself and settling into a new position, for I am sure that I am simply recovering from a nightmare…

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But my body continues to lie still, and my voice lurks trapped still within my throat.

“Get Up!” I attempt to plea. I cannot turn my head. My shoulders are pinned heavily to this mattress. I am wide awake, my heart quickens itself readying to flee in search of safety. I can see my bedroom door, still open. The door has not moved at all and nothing has been touched. I know the effort to be futile, so I attempt to shut my eyes and wait for this nightmare to pass. Because that’s what is happening. It’s just my mind playing tricks, and nothing more than that.

I shut my eyes in search of calm and rest; but alas, they cannot be found.

I cannot breathe.

My heart is rallying against its confinement in this ribcage. I am certain that my chest wall may explode from all the pressure. I can feel the weight bear down further and further still, mocking me. She rests gleefully in her folklore, but I am very familiar with her presence. The hag comes to visit at the worst of times; an unwelcome acquaintance sharing my bed and stealing precious moments where I could be sleeping if I weren’t fighting for control of my mind while silently begging for freedom to move about on my own free will.

I desperately attempt to move the right side of my hip or force my right shoulder to rise as the weight intensifies. I blink as hot tears of agony stream steadily down the corners of my eyes. Shadows dance in the corners — a taunting marionette — where the light cannot tread.

I hear steady breathing against my own shallow gasps. I become dizzy and the room begins to twirl…

…Did my sheets just hiss?

My body is frozen, stiff, and it is no longer mine.

The hag has settled in to pay me a visit again. This sickening void of terror and isolation is the gift that she comes bearing, for no one will ever be able to grasp what I am going through. Most people cannot and will not ever believe that something so strange can ever truly happen.

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The back of my skull digs further into to pillow and my neck constricts to that my belabored breathing becomes even more difficult. I try desperately to let out even just one sound. A single sound can then lead the way for the smallest of movement. If one or the other can be achieved, then I can free myself from the spell and I can then return to safety.

The clock records what an onlooker would judge only to be a young woman fast asleep in her bed. The rhythm taps out the minutes that slide away from me as Nothing happens.

Nothing has eyes all on me as the hag lets her chin rest atop mine like a jilted lover who has come to visit in the shadows the night affords. We share the same breath, nose touching mine, eyes preying upon my deepest thoughts and ripping my soul to shreds. These tears are an offering unto her. Soon, if I am lucky, the salty liquid will dampen my hair and loose the bond that my head has entered pact with my bedsheets.

Upholding an agreement that the rest of me did not ever recall striking.
The hag shakily cups her hands gently behind my neck slithers upward, taking gentle hold of my head. Her hands offer no comfort that human contact would give. There is no reassurance in this all consuming grasp. These familiar eyes gazing into my own are a most hideous sight, as a child of Nothing cannot contain a soul. All warmth is gone as I peer into those blackened and vacant orbs — the birthplace of my nightmares. My body begins to fall completely numb, and a crooked, unnatural, other worldly grin spreads deliberately across the hag’s face just as all other times before.

If I only understood what she wanted…
I would give her absolutely anything if it meant she would never come and visit me again.

She curls her feet underneath her pelvis, pushing down on my stomach and causing my diaphragm to constrict. All hope fades away. Those listless, ravenous eyes recognize something in mine, something they desperately long for. Her pitted and rotting cheeks moving closer to mine, my nose fills with the stench of musty Earth and decaying flesh. Head tilting and neck cracking in twisting and jerking motions, lacking the fluidity of those of the Land of the Living, she attempts — my deepest horrors realized right then — to hold onto me in search of what she so greedily seeks.

One simple kiss, solidifying my exit from this life and sinking instead to the oddly tempting promise of Nothing…

One simple night in which Nothing can belong with Someone.

Frenetically I keep demanding — over and over — of my right shoulder to buck her off of my torso, push her away, break her captivating embrace — her hypnotizing, awful intent. Such inhuman strength — an eerily tantalizing thought of just giving up and agreeing to stay, because why keep fighting? — could suggest that I will never be free so long as this oppressive darkness ensues.

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But this has happened in times passed, and I know if I just want it badly enough I can end what is sure to happen.

Suddenly space and time rip apart from each other. Flashes of light strike and fill my vision, and the powerful force behind it quakes — consuming my entire body. The shriek that had been held back for now several hours finally releases itself.

All that exists is that silent scream, now given its brief chance to speak. The only thing that can be heard is weak and shrill…but it is just enough to bring me back from the throne room to Nowhere and slam me back into my own bed.

My right shoulder moves ever so slightly from its position, and I escape from under this weight. The hag will not have me tonight.

4:37 A.M. and I am free.

I shudder as I wail. These nights occur often and without mercy. I cast a glance at my little army of teddy bears and other stuffed animals. I lean against them as my eyes continue relentlessly leaking. My body is wracked with sobs as I know there exists not a single person who can help me. There is not a person, pill, or potion in this world who can make all of the nights filled with fear of never returning from Nowhere end.

All who can know of the confusion, terror, and wonder of what happens is no one at all.

*The phenomena that causes these sensations and visualizations is called sleep paralysis, a commonly misunderstood event that mainly occurs at least once in a person’s life. However, due to my own neurological complications, I experience sleep paralysis very frequently and may go months having Ordinary Nights such as this, and often times opt to choose not to sleep at all, which has induced atypical psychosis from sleep deprivation in the past. There is no treatment for this or any form of sleep paralysis. The experience detailed uses descriptive language for interest. The account itself is 100% authentic.

Credit To – Danielle Nicole

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26 thoughts on “Ordinary Nights”

  1. the feels bro. i have sleep paralysis almost every night, but im hopeful that they might go away by the time im 14

  2. As someone who suffers from waking during sleep paralysis quite often it’s truly terrifying. I can relate to this pasta so well. I enjoyed the detailed descriptions and the fight the story teller struggles with.

  3. I felt like I was there, I enjoyed the description and liked that you intrigued the reader with your words. I truly know how it feels to have sleep paralysis and I think you did a really good job of showing it.

  4. My brother says that all the time. He says he has whole conversations with me and is so confused when im completely ignoring him the whole time.

  5. I experience sleep paralysis quite often; more often than I’d like to, so I knew exactly what you were describing as soon as I started the first paragraph. It’s a very interesting and precise way of describing this terrifying phenomenon, and I’m sorry you have to endure it as well.

  6. I am fourteen years old and i have had sleep paralysis “attacks” on a nearly daily bases and oddly enough I’ve had a couple times when I have hallucinated and have gotten used to waking myself up from these attacks and i never was scared upon waking up and just causally brush it off I have never been truly terrified upon waking up

  7. This is brilliantly written, very descriptive. I really hope you are able to get over this and overpower the one that is troubling you.

  8. Sleep paralysis! I get this at least 2 times a week! Such a horrifying feeling :( meanwhile, my brother is able to lucid dream. So unfair

  9. I’ve had this dream, except my witch was a young girl and I was about 11 years old at the time. It started as a lucid dream and I honestly thought I was awake throughout the sleep paralysis. Fourteen years later, and I can remember it as vividly as the author describes it here. These dreams are truly horrific.

  10. I have sleep paralysis episodes as well, the feeling of helplessness is horrid. They started when I was 18 and undergoing sleep deprivation due to a hetic military life and have stayed with me since. They increased in intensity over several years until just kind of going away on their own until I almost never have them anymore.

    I know you said you have a neurological disorder but if it will help but I found that sleeping with my neck at odd angles or having excessive pressure on my temples seems to trigger them.

    The only part about them that creeps me out to this day is that when they first started, I almost always had an impression or sensation that a person was in the room with me, and it was almost always of a manevolent man in a hat. This was back in 99/00′ before I had ever read anything about “Hatman”. Which gives me the heebejeebies

  11. Great description of sleep paralysis. I have experienced it several times a month since I was a kid, I’m over 30 now. It would even happen if I nodded off on the couch. I finally learned what it was about five years ago. The descriptions other people were giving were spot on. I was relieved that I was not the only one that experienced it.

    I have always been told I snore, didn’t care since I didn’t have to hear it. About two years ago, my partner forced me to talk to my doctor about sleep apnea. I went through the sleep test and they told me I stopped breathing over 100 times an hour. I was prescribed a CPAP machine that I started using.

    Since then, I don’t think I have had a sleep paralysis episode. This story actually reminded me that I used to suffer from it. For me, I am pretty sure it was my snoring/sleep apnea that would trigger the sleep paralysis. I’ll gladly wear that dumb CPAP mask if it means never having to experience them again.

  12. I knew she was talking about sleep paralysis as soon as I started reading. I too have came face to face with my own hag, although my hag is a creature. I’ve expierenced it 3 times in my lifetime and every night I pray it won’t happen.very scary way to live.

  13. I know sleep paralysis all too well. I experience it every few months and when I do, it is usually for weeks only when I can literally force myself to move, or fight for my sanity does this “spell” break. When I go through this I end up hallucinating as soon as I manage to “snap” myself out of it, all hallucinations vanish. I dread a night, or day when this happens again.

  14. I’ve found that sleeping on your side helps. Especially when you enter in to sleep paralysis, it’s a little easier to move your body and wake out of it. Although i’m sure that different things work for different people. I definitely can’t sleep on my back.

    1. I agree with sleeping on your side. I’ve had sleep paralysis happen to me a few times, and I’ve found I can (usually) prevent it by not sleeping on my back.

  15. I’ve only experienced sleep paralysis once in my life, and that was more than enough. Thanks for sharing yours as a pasta. Maybe a creative outlet will help!

  16. The descriptive language here is great! I could actually tell halfway through that this was referring to sleep paralysis. As someone who also experiences sleep paralysis, seeing the experience described in such a poetic way is enjoyable

  17. Half way through I thought, “This sounds like sleep paralysis!” This took me back to my childhood, when I had episodes nearly every night, and I had no idea what was happening. It was terrifying. Since then I’ve learned what triggers my episodes and how to minimize them, so I currently have only about a dozen or so episodes a year.

    Back to the pasta. I try to never harp on typos, but there are enough spelling and grammatical errors that it warrants a mention. Some of the sentence structure is a bit cumbersome as well. Another proofread would help in terms of readability.

    As far as the pasta itself goes, I found it engaging, although I’ve already admitted my bias on the subject matter. The description of feeling weighed down, unable to move, unable to call out, and feeling trapped inside of your own body is well done. I also like that the events are portrayed as part of an endless cycle. There is an interesting internal struggle between the desire to fight off the episode and the desire to just give up. I thought this was a nice touch.

    In short, while this pasta is a touch undercooked, I enjoyed it none the less.

  18. I really enjoyed this! It drew me in and kept me engaged, even though the sleep paralysis idea was pretty evident early on. It was a great description of it, and I enjoyed hearing a dramatic narrative account of the phenomenon. A few typos here or there, but nothing that was really distracting in the overall flow of this piece. And I love the pacing here. It is a bit long and drawn out, but that mirrors the narrator’s experience so well that it functions to increase my borrowed experience of the event. The note at the end definitely ruins the submersion in the story, but it is also a key part of telling this story. I can’t imagine going through this night after night. It would truly be a terrifying experience, even knowing the cause! Thanks for an interesting story, and happy writing!

  19. I know you purposely used “descriptive” language, but it felt like that language kept me from enjoying this.

    Does anyone really speak like that?

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