Thursday, August 23, 2012

The Worst Kind of Horror Stories


Are the ones that your friends have experienced. I’ve been reading through Andrew’s dreams for the past two days, trying to find the ones that I appear in. There weren’t many, and I only say it’s important because I haven’t seen him in nearly 10 years and there are very little repeating elements at all in his dreams.

I was expecting some sort of betrayal. I thought that if I appeared at all, it would be as a hook for abandonment. I didn’t even say goodbye to him

Instead, I do nothing. Whenever I appear, I just watch silently as he is tortured, ignoring his cries for help. Sometimes I write. I never speak, never help him. I barely even move.

I guess that’s what I do. Nothing.

2 comments:

  1. Death is endless sleep.

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  2. Didn't you say he read this blog? You are after all the silent observer, if he somehow figured out that it was you writing this what else would you do in his dreams but observe silently?

    On the other hand if indeed he was under assault by the Grotesque it may not have been his own subconscious but the manipulations of that Thing to add to his suffering.

    In either case there is no blame to be had on your part.

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