Board Thread:Writer's Workshop/@comment-26262050-20150331164419

I have this story based on real events, the problem is, it isn't that long. I will post it here to show you and hopefully get some feedback on it.

"The Room at the End of the Hall"

I'm pretty sure you all know what REM stands for. For those that do not, REM stands for Rapid Eye Movement and normally occurs when you dream. Now, normally, when your body is at rest, your brain shuts off all non-essential functions such as excessive movement (hence why some people experience sleep paralysis). Something in my brain is broken and, as a result, I have full range of motion, even while I dream. This is a bad thing as I am prone to night terrors. I only tell you this because it is essential to know.

I have been in a mental institution more than 4 times. My last one was last year, and that was the year I was in the room at the end of the hall. To give you a better understanding of the mental hospital, it is essentially one row of rooms on either side, East and West, I believe. I was on the Western wing. I had a roommate; she was an elderly lady. She had issues (as we all did), but hers were a bit more like mine: she acquired injuries in a psychosomatic fashion, similar to myself. And, just like me, she had full control of her body, even when she was dreaming. The rooms were cold and threadbare, your usual state run psych hospital fare. There was a bathroom with a toilet, a shower, and a shatter proof mirror.



Fact number two: I hate mirrors. I use mirrors to brush my hair and that's it, I turn away and do whatever.



It was roughly 11 PM, I didn't know for sure, but I knew that the T.V. went off at 10:30. I was curled up on my bed, trying to sleep when her light turns on. Fuck. I sit up and ask her what's wrong. She was dreaming, but her eyes were wide open and she was digging through clothes, it startled me a bit when she started to rummage through mine. I said "Excuse me, but are you asleep?" I got no response, just a blank stare and then more rummaging. "They're coming for me, I must get ready." she said as she pulled out some slacks. She started to undress, something I did not want to see... "Who?" There was a beat and then "Them." Something about that statement unsettled me, but I shrugged it off; for all I knew she was talking about the nurses that did their rounds. She tried to pull her pants on and was struggling.



Fact three: I am a certified nurse's aide. I am used to seeing the elderly struggle to get dressed, so I offered to help her. "It's almost time for breakfast, I'm hungry." I shook my head. "No, it's roughly midnight." Her face...changed, it was almost like watching wax slowly slide down a candle. It was unmistakable fury. I backed up: When you're around other people that could be as batshit insane as you, you tend to watch out for number one. But why? Why was she so angry? She sat on her bed, back against the wall, her legs bent in ways that were unnatural. Her eyes rolled back in her head and she started to talk with punctuations of very loud snoring. I debated on whether or not I should turn off the light, but something inside me said: "H., if you do that, you will be sorry." I listened and I'm glad I did. She started to moan and scratch at the air in front of her; it was as if she was fighting something. At this point I am beyond creeped out, so I went to the Nurse's Station and explained what happened. They tried to rouse her from her sleep, but suddenly her body went rigid, it took two orderlies to finally wake her up. She acknowledged them and then fell back asleep. That night, I dreamed that she got up and stood over my bed, staring down at me with blank eyes. "They're coming." she croaked, for some reason I struck my fist out, it passed through her and that was when I woke up. Her light was still on, but she was asleep, her snoring less pronounced. I could not sleep after that dream, so I walked into the common area and sat down at a darkened table and looked out the window.



"They're coming..." I muttered, looking down at the table and noticing that the palm of my hands had cuts on them; I must have clenched my fist incredibly hard to have cuts on my hands. As I said, most of the damage was psychosomatic. "Who?" One of the male nurses, who remembered me, sat down beside me, startling me.

"Sorry, H., just looked like you were troubled." There was a few beats and then.

"My roommate...she just...started to get dressed in her sleep. She was saying that she was getting ready for "Them." at first, I had assumed she meant you all, but when I told her that it was near midnight, her face scrunched up in fury and I tried to help her get dressed. What the hell just happened? I understand the concept of unconscious autonomy (meaning that you do everyday things, even when you are asleep. It happens to more people than you think.) but her face...her eyes...something wasn't right. I don't know if it was the meds...or..." I tapered off, I had assumed I answered my own question.



-Next Morning-



She was angry with me because she was chastised by the nurses. I apologized honestly, it wasn't my intention to get her in trouble. I told her that her anger with me was completely justified.

<p class="MsoNormal">"No, you misunderstand me, while I am slightly annoyed with you, I am angry at the doctors. I don't know what the fuck they gave me, but whatever it was...H., I wasn't myself. On some level, I knew what I was doing, hell, I even remember you telling me that it was around midnight. That was the problem: It was near midnight. Before I came here, I nearly caught myself on fire because I was trying to cook while I was asleep. The problem is, it was midnight. I don't know what the connection is, but whenever it strikes around midnight, I am compelled to do things. Things I don't want to do, or things I don't understand. The anger I felt towards you...it consumed me, I saw you back away, I saw your fear, and part of me enjoyed it. You're a sweet kid, but if they got ahold of you...you..." she looked around to make sure no one else was listening "You would become like me, your injuries would get a lot graver and your sanity would slip further."

<p class="MsoNormal">

<p class="MsoNormal">"Who are "They"?

<p class="MsoNormal">

<p class="MsoNormal">She shook her head: "I've no clue, but, had you turned out the lights, they would have taken over...I was going to kill you, H."

<p class="MsoNormal">

<p class="MsoNormal">Suddenly it made sense: Perhaps my sense of self-preservation, as unconscious as it was, paired with my dream saved my life. Whoever "They" were, they were not friendly. It was then I realized "They" were already there, we had both brought them with us. "They" are the beings that toe the line of lucidity and slumber. They are the compulsions that drive many a man to commit atrocious crimes. They are among us and yet we do not truly know of them until they strike.

<p class="MsoNormal">

<p class="MsoNormal">This is a warning. A lesson I learned at the end of the hall in a mental hospital. Perhaps I am insane, perhaps my theory is flawed. Or maybe we all have a "they" and they are just waiting for the opportune time to strike. I'm not trying to scare you, merely warn you. If you start noticing odd injuries on you and you don't remember how you got them, consider the option that the part of your brain that shuts down your motor functions may be broken. It's not a reason for alarm, merely an explanation. I do, however, warn you that if you start to notice that the injuries you received in dreams are becoming physical, perhaps you should ask your doctor about a sedative, it is safer that way,trust me. <ac_metadata title="Creepypasta length."> </ac_metadata>