Posted at 8:55 am on Dec 1, 2013 by:
Red Spyder
A Nightmare Within a Nightmare
TF: Sometime before meeting Sincentius . . .
It was those same four faces again. They had haunted his dreams before. Before he'd even been sent to this place away from his own world. Danielle, Rose, Emily, and April. Lovers from his past life. Three of them were long since dead for sure. The other one possibly was too, he wasn't too sure about her. He'd fucked a lot of women over the years, possibly nearly as many as people he'd killed, and he ended up killing some of those women too, but those four were always the four that appeared in that particular dream. Perhaps because in some small way in his dark, twisted mind, those four had actually meant something to him, at least at some point.
In the dream, they were always in his mansion, in its hallways, which seemed to wind and twist forever into the darkness. He was running through the dim halls and the four women were chasing him. Not for sex, not for an autograph, but for blood. His blood. Revenge on him for spilling their blood. They each held one of his weapons: his chainsaw, his scalpel, his ax, and his kitchen knife. His weapons which had spilled so much blood over the years. The blood of his victims and the blood of his enemies. Now those same weapons were about to spill his blood, all over the hallways of his mansion. No matter how fast he ran, they kept getting closer, until they finally had him cornered.
Then he was suddenly transported to another . . . place. A dark place, with barely enough light to make out their faces around him, asking 'why'. Why did he murder them? Why did he betray their trust? Why did he keep running to avoid his fate? And despite them being right next to him, their voices sounded so distant. They asked enough to make any normal man probably scream in insanity, but he could handle it, barely. Perhaps insanity would be preferable than this punishment.
That was when he finally woke up, back in the dry, desolate world far away from those four or his mansion. Far enough away to make it all seem like it had only ever existed in his mind. Perhaps he'd been there for so long, he'd begun to hallucinate that he was a serial killer living in a mansion, able to have anything he wanted. It seemed possible, but he was also sure that it wasn't, that those things had at some point in his existence been a reality. But that still didn't answer the ultimate question: what the hell had happened to that reality?
