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Faces

By takeastand All Rights Reserved ©

Horror

Short Story

I was once told that your mind can never forget a face.  It can't make up one either. Every single person you ever see, their face gets stored away, into your memories, and they get used later. They get used for dreams, where your mind can't just make up a new face. Every single face you see in a dream, you have seen before in real life.

Those strange nightmares you have- with the demon like creatures. You can't make up their faces. You've seen them around, you just can't remember. You don't want to remember.

I see faces a lot. In my dreams. I see one particular face often. Twisted, morphed beyond recognition, scars littered all over. The face of a serial killer. The face would grin at me, a twisted, bloody smile, and whisper the same words over and over again.

"None of them made it, and neither will you."

It was the one dream- nightmare- that never failed to wake me up at three in the morning, sweating and frozen in panic. The only thing that calmed me down was reassuring myself that it wasn't real, that the monster I saw was a figment of my imagination. Someone I once saw on TV, or in a movie. Someone fictional.

I let myself believe that. For so many years, I told myself the same thing, over and over again, and I made myself believe it. It was easy. It's always easy, getting people to believe in something. Especially if that something makes you feel safe, tells you that it can't be real because things like that simply don't exist.

I never expected to see him in real life.

He looked older than in my dreams. His mouth wasn't bloody and twisted, like in the dreams. But it was him. I could tell- I don't know how- but I could tell. He wasn't doing anything, just stood there in the shadows next to a bar. He was looking down at his phone, smiling every now and then. He seemed normal. To everyone around him, he was. I could almost make myself believe that he was.

That was the first encounter of many. From then on, I would see him often, lurking around near me. He was watching me. I could feel it. But he didn't do anything. He couldn't risk someone seeing him. So I made a vow to myself, a vow that would probably be broken. I told myself I would always stay with someone; always have someone in my company. It was the only way I couldn't let him get me.

I broke the vow after a few weeks. I stopped feeling his gaze burning into my back. The dreams stopped. I felt safer. So one night I left the house. It was a stupid mistake, something anyone would do. But I didn't realise it at the time. So I headed to a park. I wanted to be outside, and just relax. A park would be the best place for that. I would have walked over to the swing set. I would have sat down on a swing, gazing up at the stars. I should have. But I didn't. I didn't make it to the park.

I was still minutes away when a hand clamped over my mouth. I couldn't scream, couldn't move. I was frozen. In fear, shock, pure terror. I could feel him pulling me away, and I couldn't fight, I couldn't do anything, because I was so scared.

He stopped at a graveyard. It was dark and spooky- all graveyards were. We were inside, next to a tree. I could feel the ropes winding around my legs and chest. They were rough, thick, and they hurt, rubbing against me when I tried to struggle.

The man was there. Of course he was. He had tied me up, grinning the entire time. And when he finished, he stood up and looked at me. He still looked normal. He didn't look like he had just tied someone to a tree. He didn't look like a murderer. But he was. And he was going to kill me.

He leaned over me and whispered into my ear, gesturing at the graves in front of me.

"None of them made it, and neither will you."


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