Phantasmata – Scary Story

Phantasmata – Scary Story

Meet Brian Miller. A simple man who is desperate for some sleep. Mr. Miller hasn’t slept in 3 weeks and can barely be considered functional. What keeps him awake at night is a simple text from his loving, caring wife. A wife he loathes. A wife he wishes he could get rid of. On the brink of insanity, Mr. Miller is dying to get some sleep, even if it means facing his darkest secret, so that he can finally rest (in peace).

Written by Darkdreams79, this frightening presentation is a twisted tale of love and sinister secrets…whispered only on the darkest nights.

Bzzzt! Bzzzzzt! Bzzzt Bzzzzzt!

“You have one new text from Natalie.”

Right on cue.

2:01 am.

The 3-year-old digital clock on my bedside table blinked patiently as the soft red light poked my strained eyes like a sharp cold knife. As I sat mindlessly on my bed, the blinding darkness of the room had completely engulfed me by now. I kept staring at my smartphone even though I couldn’t keep my eyes open any longer. My mind had almost shut down by now. I felt like I was asleep and awake at the same time. My heavy eyelids dragged themselves down and desperately tried to stay shut. It felt so good.

But I force them open. I have to. My eyes…they burn. They beg me to close them again. Something inside me screams. I can feel it’s anger and desperation. It just wants me to sleep. But I ignore it. The phone had stopped vibrating by now. Like clockwork, she texted me again tonight. I pick up my phone and it’s the same goddamn text again.

“Hey!”

My neck twitches again for the hundredth time tonight. I clench my teeth and feel my breath rise. I grasp the phone firmly in my hand desperately wanting to throw it at the wall and smashing it to bits. But…I don’t. I breathe slowly and calm myself down. I can’t let this affect me so much. I haven’t slept once in the last 3 weeks. Sleep deprivation can make you crazy they said. This is it. This time I text her back. I unlock my phone and text back to her number.

Is this supposed to be a joke?

This is not funny?

You want me to report this number?

I bluff. But I hope it’s not apparent. How could I report this number? I am not that crazy. At least not yet.

I can’t let these texts from my ex-wife get to me like this.

I need to get control over myself.

God, I need some sleep.

I lie down on my bed. Close my eyes and try to relax. This feels nice. I feel my body sink into the bed. I feel the noise inside my head finally die down. Instantly everything flashes in front of my eyes and I bolt up. I breathe heavily as my neck starts twitching again. Maybe, my manager, Brian was right. I need to see a shrink. Maybe a therapist can help me sleep. I can’t take this anymore. I just can’t go over…wait…did my phone vibrate again? Did she reply?

I grab my phone quickly and check it. No. There’s no new text. I am starting to hallucinate. I am hearing things that are not real. I try to knock some sense into myself. I just need to sleep. I can’t go on like this anymore.

I can never get rid of her…can I? Goddamn, I hate her. But it wasn’t always like this. I loved her. I loved her so much. She meant everything to me. For seven years, everything was so great. Everything was perfect. But I don’t know what happened suddenly. One fine day I was just not in love with her anymore. Just like that. I couldn’t feel anything for her. Looking at her disgusted me to my core. I wanted to burn my entire body every time she touched me. Her nagging voice wanted me to choke the life out of her. Still, I tried. I tried for another year. Tried to make things better. But I just couldn’t take it anymore. She had to go.

I told her to leave me so many times. Trust me I did. I told her I have been sleeping with other women. I was cheating on her. I didn’t love her anymore. I wanted a divorce. But the more I tried to get rid of her, the more desperate she got to make things better. Such a needy little bitch. The more she tried, the more I hated her. And then it happened. I smashed her head that night. I know I shouldn’t have but I wasn’t thinking. We had a fight and I just wanted to shut her up. As her dislocated lower jaw lied at a distance from her lifeless body, I stood still wondering what I had done. But I felt no remorse. Just relief. So I cleaned all the blood, wrapped her body in plastic, burned my bloodied clothes, took a shower, got dressed, had a smoke and a few shots of vodka before driving off with her corpse in the trunk of my car.

I don’t remember how long I drove until I found the perfect spot to dispose of her corpse. I dragged her stiff body into the middle of the woods and buried her deep in the ground. I made sure not to leave any tracks or evidence. I had seen enough movies and shows to know what all I needed to be careful about. And just like that…she was gone from my life…finally. Or so I thought.

That was over 3 weeks ago. Little did I know my life was going to turn into a living nightmare. I should have just left her while I had the chance. Do I regret killing her now? Maybe. I don’t know. I never wanted to hurt her…at least not deliberately. I just wanted to get rid of her. But then life happens. What can you do about it? I never thought killing my wife would have such dire consequences.

Bzzzt! Bzzzzzt! Bzzzt Bzzzzzt!

Few days after I killed Natalie, I got this text on my phone. It was really late in the night. As I barely woke up rubbing my eyes to the vibrating sound of my phone, I saw my digital clock blinking ‘2:01 am’. I grabbed my phone and unlocked it.

“You have one new text from Natalie.”

The notification popped on my screen. I stared in horror with my eyes wide open and heart pulsating with every tick of my digital clock. With a lone sweat dripping down my temple, I realized that my hands had started to tremble involuntarily. I felt my mouth dry up instantly as if a thousand splinters were being needled into the flesh of my throat. I felt my heart beat faster and faster as I tapped my screen to open the text.

“Hey!”

That’s it. That’s all it said. But it was from her number. Sent at 2:01 am. But how could it be? She’s dead. I killed her with my bare hands. It can’t be her.

Could someone else text me from her phone?

Has someone found her phone out there?

Is someone playing a sick game with me?

Do they know what I have done?

No. Not possible. I made sure not to leave any tracks behind. I made sure her phone was switched off and inside her pockets, along with her other stuff, when I buried her in those woods. I buried her deep and I buried her good. There is no way anyone can find her. No way. Not possible. Then who sent this text? Well, it can’t be her. Shouldn’t her phone be out of power by now? This just doesn’t make sense. But who sent this text then? I checked it again. This is her number. And the time…it’s exactly when she died. 2:01 am. After 15 minutes of writing on the crimson floor with her broken jaw, she died exactly at 2:01 am.

This is too much of a coincidence. Don’t you think? I asked myself. My mind had stopped working by now. I couldn’t think anymore. I sat on my bed holding my smartphone in my hand, sweating profusely in the middle of a November night. Without giving it much thought, I started typing a reply.

Related: A Ghost Story (Fear)

Who the f**k is this?

I hit backspace and deleted it. I typed again.

Hi!

I deleted this one too. I typed again.

Honey? Is that you? Where are you? I’ve been looking all over for you. Your parents are worried sick. Give me a call ASAP.

I sat silently for a while and hit backspace again deleting the whole text. I desperately fought the urge of replying back to her. I turned my phone off and lied down on my bed. I didn’t want to screw things up. She was still a missing persons case and I didn’t want to become a suspect. I stayed up all night.

That was the first of many sleepless nights.

It happened again the next night. Then again the next night. And the next night. And the next night. And it’s been 3 weeks now. Every night it’s the same thing.

“Hey”

And that was enough to keep me up all night, panicking and overthinking each second of my existing. All this time, I’ve been desperately stopping myself from texting her back but tonight I couldn’t take it anymore.

I JUST COULDN’T TAKE IT ANYMORE.

NO MORE.

I HAVE TO KNOW WHO THIS IS.

Calm down.

Breathe.

I can’t lose it.

Not now.

But I need to know who is texting me from her number. I have to know who it is. It’s killing me inside…one text at a time. I pick up the phone again, unlock it and start typing.

Natalie…is that you?

Sent.

It’s 3:15 am. It’s more than an hour now. Still no reply. I sit patiently on my bed in front of my phone waiting for it to vibrate again. But nothing. My neck starts twitching again. But I am used to it by now. I bite my tongue in the hopes of wetting my dry mouth. I hear the trees rustling outside as if they are trying to whisper something to me. I see the shadows of my curtains move silently across the wall as if they are trying to pull me into the shadow dimension. I feel the soft red glow of my digital clock illuminates my face in the darkness with the same crimson hue I saw Natalie take her last breath in. I feel the phone vibrate, only it doesn’t. I hallucinate. I want to escape this night. I want to escape this nightmare. I want her to reply. Just once. But she doesn’t. I want to sleep. Oh…how much I want to sleep. I feel myself lying down. But why am I still sitting up? Am I dreaming? No, this is happening for real. Are you sure? I breathe and try to focus. It’s hard. I just want to sleep. As I feel my eyelids slide down ever so satisfyingly, I feel the phone vibrate again. I snap out of my traumatic trip. My neck twitches hard and I open my eyes wide. I grab the phone quickly and unlock it.

Nothing.

I am imagining things. I need to sleep.

Bzzzt! Bzzzzzt! Bzzzt Bzzzzzt!

I feel a blood rush as I look at the phone. The lock screen is still lit up. It’s not my imagination anymore. I pick up the phone even though my hands keep shaking. I unlock it and tap the text notification. I feel my heart coming to a stop as the text opens.

An emoji. A smiling face emoji. A F**KING EMOJI.

What the hell is this?

This has gone too far. I am going to kill whoever is messing with me.

Just as I start typing a reply I feel my fingers come to an abrupt stop. My body freezes as the temperature in the room starts to drop rapidly. I start gasping for air as the room gets filled with a vile suffocating stench. I feel like death is breathing over my neck as I hear the main door creaking open agonizingly slowly. Wait…wasn’t it locked? I feel an indescribable fear grasp me as I realize the phone was indeed in her pocket the whole time. And so was the spare key to the house.

Frozen with fear, I fix my gaze at the open bedroom door. I hear slow, heavy footsteps dragging across the corridor. I can hear my throbbing heart beat faster and faster in the stillness of the night. I try to move. I can’t. I try to breathe. I barely manage. I see a long, thin anamorphic shadow fall at my bedroom wall. She…is here. I can feel her.

Brian….

She whispers. I cry. Tears glide down my eyes as fear grasps me from within. I can hear her inhuman breaths coming from the corridor. I try to move again. I try to run. But I can’t.

Brian….

I hear a raspy whisper. But it’s not her voice anymore. My eyes burn as I keep them peeled and fixed at the bedroom door. I see her face twisting demonically at a distorted angle as she comes and stands at the doorway. Her lower jaw still missing. Watching her spectral silhouette standing there, I feel a sharp shooting pain in my chest as if a burning knife is being stabbed repeatedly. She laughs like a maniac. I die inside. She stops laughing. The silence in the room is now even more dreadful than her crazed laughter. I wait for her to do something. But she just stands there. Patiently and disturbingly still. I can feel her dead cold eyes leering into my soul.

I try to apologize. I can’t speak. As she crouches to the ground, I feel my body collapse with fear. But why are my eyes still open? Why can’t I shut them? I just want to sleep. I just want to die. But death wouldn’t be so easy for me. And she was here to make sure of that. As she stands on all fours and starts crawling towards me…everything turns completely dark.

Bzzzt! Bzzzzzt! Bzzzt Bzzzzzt!

I jump up at my bed and breathe heavily. The sunlight is blinding me. I look away and look around the room. She’s not here. I’m still alive. I feel my phone vibrate. But it isn’t. Still, I check my phone. Nothing. I mean there’s nothing. There are no texts from Natalie. Wait! What the hell? The inbox is completely empty. There are no texts from her since she died. How can this be? What’s going on here? I’ve been awake every single night for the past 3 weeks all because of these goddamn texts. But now there’s nothing. Was I imagining everything? Am I…am I going crazy here? I saw her last night. She was here. Only she wasn’t. Sleep deprivation can make you crazy they said. I need to stop hallucinating. I need to sleep.

I don’t remember how long I stared blankly at the wall before I realized what I needed to do. But when I knew, I was sure about it. I need to sleep. It’s time her parents knew the truth. They deserved to know where their daughter is. And so do the cops. I need to sleep. This needs to end now.

I HAVE to sleep.

Telling her parents that I brutally murdered their daughter in cold blood wasn’t easy. That too over the phone. But I felt relieved. I was so sleepy. I kept lying on my bed, as the cops barged in through the main door. Turns out the main door was locked. I chuckle. I need to stop hallucinating. I need to sleep.

As they cuffed me and took me away, something weird caught my eye. Dirt. There was dirt all across the floor. The carpet was soiled. No footprints. Just bits of dirt and dry mud. Scattered like a trail of breadcrumbs. My eyes rapidly grazed the dirt as the cops forced me out of the room. That’s when I saw it.

My eyes opened wide as I stared in disbelief. Her phone and the spare keys. Her dirt-laden phone and keys…hastily placed on my bedside table right behind my 3-year-old digital clock.

I laughed maniacally. I keep laughing all the way to prison as the cops stare at me like I am some mad man.

But it doesn’t matter anymore.

I can finally sleep now.

Bzzzt! Bzzzzzt! Bzzzt Bzzzzzt!

I feel my phone vibrate.

Strange things can happen in the borderland of sleep. And Mr Miller had to find it out the hard way. The trippy realm between sleep and wakefulness can make us see and hear things that we might never imagine in our darkest dreams. However, at the threshold of consciousness, our awareness often opens up to dimensions that we can’t even comprehend. Mr Brian Miller is a simple man who has just found out what resides at the edge of the borderland of sleep.

Hope you have some good sleep tonight.