He doesn’t want to be here. People remember him with shakes and tremors. He crawls up their spine and lays hidden terrors in their heads. Hated by all, feared by most, he lives night after night in the waking dreams of others. Conformed to the images playing through their minds, he hides in closets and under beds, he waits in alleys and the dark corners of the room. Never once has anyone doubted his existence or his purpose. No one but himself.
He is trapped in a world of others’ creation. Forced into a figment of people’s imaginations he visits them, giving life to their darkest thoughts. Waiting for the night when day will finally dawn, he haunts the rooms of tired people caught up in their own fears. He appears from the deepest of nightmares in the darkest of nights.
A girl lays peacefully in her bed, unaware of the terror awaiting her. She stretches and stares at the clock, her eyes adjust to the dim light. A low scraping sound echoes through her room, a slow warning. The closet door inches open, stopping slowly as its fatal occupant struggles to hold it back. The door trods on, refusing to listen. The girl sees its quiet arc and freezes, rooted to her bed, watching its white frame swing towards her like a ghost out of the dark.
Suddenly a menacingly gloved hand appears, wrapping itself around the shining metal door handle glowing in the moonlight. A screeching sound escapes from the overbearing closet as the door scratches against the rough wooden floor. Finally the door stands open revealing a monstrous figure clothed in black. He stands, head tilting, blood-shot eyes filled with unexpected tears as they bore into her skull. A hideous mask covers his timeless yet aging face, its swirled translucentness distorting the scars clawed against his skin. Graying curled hair sticks out, creating a strange halo that follows him through the moonlight. Cold black leather covers his misshapen body head to toe, providing camouflage in the dark night.

The girl finally screams, releasing the terror walled up inside her in one long cry. The
previously peaceful room is rocked, forever changed as the sound clings to it, embedding itself in the walls and hiding in the floor to escape in shrill squeals beneath their feet. The man walks forward, unable to stop. His body imprisons him, forcing him to look out into the world through his own eyes. He tries to slow his feet but they walk in a never ending loop, refusing to listen to his silent pleading commands.

The girl sits up, struggling to make it to the door and escape this nightmare. The sheets tangle around her legs, holding her hostage in these self-made shackles of bedding. They wrap around her and trap her as much as her tormentor is trapped in his own body.

He stands waiting for something to change and help him escape, but nothing ever comes. His head tilts to the side, sliding his tears across his face, slipping down the cover of his mask. His eyes cry out to her, begging her to understand, to try and fight to escape this nightmare. She doesn’t notice, she never will. Her terror consumes her, not allowing anything else in.

An unknown force lifts his hand as he jerkingly starts across the room towards her.

“Please!” Her cracked voice slides out through her tears. “Please stop, I haven’t done anything!”

The man falters, fighting everything within himself to stop. It is no use, his hand remains outstretched, reaching out to her.

“You don’t understand! I can’t stop, this is not your nightmare, it’s mine! I am a monster and this is my dream, a nightmare’s nightmare!” His voice falters and halts as he fights to get the words out. “I am sorry.”

His hand completes its journey across the cursed room. Just as his fingertips reach out to her he is submerged in the darkness of the closet to begin his nightmare again.