Sick
I slept fine last night. Didn’t sleep so well Sunday though. It was my own fault, really. I did tell him he was welcome in if he pleased. My dream began like one of those horror games you might see, like Silent Hill or Alone in the Dark. It was night out, and almost pitch black. I was holed up in some building, hiding from something. Or waiting. I peeked out; the door was glass and had some rule stickers on it. I suppose I was in a corner store. Upon looking out, I see a deserted street, lighted by a few dim streetlamps. The street was dead empty, dead silent. I seemed to be in the middle of a city… yet there was nothing. I tentatively opened the door, creeping out into the cold night. Ever have on of those dreams where you can feel what’s happening? This was one of those dreams. I turned left out the door and began walking. The street was sloped, and I was going down. Suddenly I stopped in front of a building. Looking to my left at it, it seemed like a small house. Not one like you’d see in the city. It was in shambles, a light grey blue color. I felt the need to go in, to see the inside. I crept up to the door and turned the handle. Opening the door, I looked in. There wasn’t much but a few boxes, a table, and a bed. I moved silently towards the bed. On it slept a person. I glared down at her for a few moments, her sleeping figure taunting me. I bent down, picked up an object, and swing. The brick ensured that she would not wake up soon. Dropping the bloody, hair-matted brick, a message flashed through my mind, clear as day, a dark, deep, raspy voice speaking through my mind. “The sinew will sew together the darkness and damnation.” I only know of one kind of sinew; it’s the stuff inside of you, connected to your muscles and bones, that let you move the way you can. Looking over to the table, I saw the moonlight glinting off something. I walked over and there sat a knife, placed perfectly in the center, the blade facing away from me. He knew I was coming. He knew he could tell me to do this. He knew I would oblige. I picked up the knife and walked back over to the unconscious form in the bed before me. Her blonde hair was spilled out around her, her head bleeding profusely. I feel now as though I recognized her… but I can’t be sure. I tore the sheet off of her and brought the knife down to her, stripping her flesh from bone, until he muscles were all visible. I began grabbing at the sinew, slicing at it, and piled it all up. Once I’d gathered all I could, I began wrapping it around itself. It formed a blindfold. I put it on, and all was black. Until the darkness was filled with an image. A house far off, silhouetted against the night sky. Atop it was a figure, and a dog. The dog howled, and the figure turned towards me. His tattered cowl flapped in a soundless wind. His blazing eyes bored into me, the blood red beads that were his pupils boring into my soul. He grinned at me, knowing he’d just gotten one step closer to corruption. I began calling him. Like in many dreams, there were things I could not control; my voice was strained, and even though I shouted as loud and hard as I could, the sound traveled mere feet. I woke up soon after that, feeling as though I had not slept at all. And I knew I hadn’t. That wasn’t sleep. He’d brought me into his world. He’d done so many times before, and he’d watched what I did as I was placed in a deserted carnival, in a school of ravenous creatures waiting to devour me and my closest friend. He’s there sometimes, my friend, but I think I know why. I think he’s sick too. I looked around and knew where I’d been. I knew what I’d seen. “The sinew will sew together darkness and damnation.” And it had. He’d shown himself to me. He was no longer what he’d been. A shapeless shadow. A shadow with eyes. One with a cowl and a demon grin. One who’s eyes glowed hot with flames. One who spoke to me, and caressed my face with clawed, shadowed hands. No. He has a shape now. He’s real. He’s come so far there’s no way I can get rid of him now. He needs a vessel, and he’s chosen me. Besides, everyone is a little sick, even if they don’t want to believe it. Copyright Statement: Unless explicitly stated, all stories published on Creepypasta.com are the property of (and under copyright to) their respective authors, and may not be narrated or performed under any circumstance.