I would be sent outside of my cabin. It wasn't long before I found myself next to the porch. A long line of children/soldiers awaited blind folded. My mother scoffed and went inside as if I was dirt. I didn't have the mind set to question the moment; I didn't know how to. I remember holding a large stick. It was one that I used stir the fire pit in reality. It was thick and had some weight to it. A gun was pointed to my head as a figure would lie his head down onto a tipped log. He/She was crying and praying rapidly; begging. My brother would stand with an army of men pointing guns at me. They forced me to murder this person and all who followed. These people felt as if they were my comrades. They were my friends. I did not recognize faces yet they somehow knew me. As I to them. I didn't realize that a gun to my head could possibly be a potential escape from this sad event. Thus, I pursued with no knowledge of death yet I knew the instinct of killing. I knew right from wrong but being gun pointed blunted me. I knew not of sacrifice! One by one, I would knock them stone cold and dead. A self hatred welded tears in my eyes. Their bodies were stacked far off. After all were deceased, it was my turn. I set my head down on the log (chin on wood). Guilt tripped me but I feared death. Something that should never be feared. I would pray and sputter out whatever sorrow filled my heart. Sweat streamed down my cheeks. Seeing the club raise up in the corner of my eye was not at all comforting. By my brothers hands, it came down on my cranium with much force. I felt the vibration and the cracking of my skull. One whack was not enough. I was still alive and I remained alive. Over and over it came. Blood gushed, flesh spattered, vision blurred, hair matted, lips split, tongue bit, teeth grinded, limbs numbed,....The pain was excruciating. My brother was filled with rage. My mother was the one who felt the need to terminate me the most. A rosary was clenched in my hand last I checked but I could only feel the breaking of my head. Surely it was mashed into nothing, right? And at last, a final strike of the stick would lodge it into what was left of my face (into my mouth), through my throat, and out my upper spine. Bones would shatter and my jaw was dislocated. I dangled and twitched. Oh my lord it hurt! For a nightmare, I can't explain how in depth it really was! I would shake as my hand with all its power tried grasping onto something, anything. But I was weak and no one was there to help. Blood and tears dripped...I woke up from the adrenaline pumping within, along with me huffing a silent scream.
This nightmare in particular is one I can't seem to forget. I have had this one (unintentionally) about 4 times. All taking place in my own yard. It's very scary. True helplessness, anger, pain, judgment, etc... I hope I have at least given off some feeling to you. Thank you for taking the time to read my nightmare. It is one in many of my twisted mind. Unfortunately.
Have any scary nightmares? Share them with us!
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