The Pinch

THE PINCH

A Psychological Horror Story

By Ashley Tapia

Chapter One — The Test

Claire opened her eyes.

For several seconds, she didn't move.

She stared at the ceiling above her bed, watching the faint gray shadows cast by the moon through the blinds.

Everything was quiet.

Too quiet.

She listened.

No cars passing outside.

No refrigerator humming from the kitchen.

No distant barking from the neighbor's dog.

Nothing.

Claire blinked slowly.

Then she remembered the dream.

She had been standing in a house she didn't recognize.

The hallway had been impossibly long, stretching farther than the house should have allowed. Doors lined both sides, but every door had been slightly open.

And behind every door, someone had been whispering her name.

Claire.

She had walked toward the end of the hallway because, in the dream, she somehow knew there was something waiting for her there.

Something she desperately needed to see.

But just before she reached it, she had heard a voice behind her.

A woman's voice.

Soft.

Terrified.

"Don't let yourself wake up."

Claire had turned.

And then—

She woke up.

She slowly sat up in bed.

"Just a dream," she whispered.

Her voice sounded strange.

Not distorted.

Just... distant.

Claire rubbed her eyes.

She looked around her bedroom.

Her dresser was where it belonged.

Her books were stacked beside the bed.

Her blue sweater was hanging from the chair where she'd thrown it the night before.

Her phone sat on the nightstand.

Everything was normal.

She smiled faintly.

"Okay."

She reached for her phone.

3:17 AM.

Claire frowned.

She waited.

One second.

Two.

Three.

The clock still read 3:17.

She tapped the screen.

Nothing changed.

"Come on."

She unlocked the phone.

The time immediately changed.

3:18 AM.

Claire stared at it.

She laughed quietly.

"Great. Phone glitch."

She put it down.

Then something occurred to her.

The dream.

The voice.

The hallway.

She remembered reading somewhere that dreams could feel completely real. People sometimes used little tests to determine whether they were dreaming.

Look at a clock.

Read something twice.

Try to push a finger through your palm.

Or—

Pinch yourself.

Claire smiled.

"Classic."

She reached over and pinched the skin on her forearm.

Hard.

She waited.

Nothing.

Claire released her arm.

She stared at the spot she'd pinched.

Then she laughed.

Of course.

"Dreaming."

She pinched herself again.

Harder.

Still nothing.

Claire's smile disappeared.

She pressed her fingernails into her skin.

Nothing.

She squeezed until the skin turned white beneath her fingers.

Still nothing.

She stopped.

Her bedroom suddenly felt much colder.

Claire looked at her arm.

There was a small red mark where she'd pinched herself.

She touched it.

She could feel the warmth of her fingers.

She could feel the fabric of her sleeve.

She could feel the mattress beneath her.

But not the pain.

She swallowed.

"Okay..."

She looked around the room.

"Wake up."

Nothing happened.

She closed her eyes.

Opened them.

Still there.

She pinched herself again.

Nothing.

Claire's breathing became faster.

"Wake up."

She slapped her own cheek.

Nothing.

She froze.

Slowly, she touched her face.

Her cheek was warm.

Her hand was trembling.

She could feel her fingertips.

But there was no sting.

No soreness.

No pain.

Claire stared at her reflection in the dark window across the room.

For one terrible moment, she thought the reflection wasn't moving.

Then it blinked.

Claire blinked.

The reflection smiled.

Claire didn't.

Her heart slammed against her chest.

She stepped backward.

The reflection remained perfectly still.

Then, very slowly...

it raised one finger to its lips.

Shhh.

Claire's bedroom door creaked open behind her.

She spun around.

The hallway beyond was completely dark.

And from somewhere in that darkness came a whisper.

"Claire..."

Her reflection pressed its palm against the glass.

And mouthed four silent words.

Don't wake up.