Jump to content
    Branflakes
  • Author
  • 853 Words
  • 1,287 Views
  • 1 Comments
Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

Short Stuffs - 2. Fiction: Not Myself

This is a standalone piece.

“Bizarre dreams like these are perfectly normal. We all have them at one point or another.”

Those were the exact words my psychiatrist had used. Normal. I certainly didn’t feel like that dream belonged anywhere in the scope of “normal.” That was a word specifically reserved for kids who dreamt of newborn puppies or men who dreamt of their wife and kids swimming in a pool at a mansion. Normal insisted that while you might have dreamt something crazy, your waking life was particularly bland and when you awoke, it went on as it should. Sadly, that wasn’t the case for me.

It all began about two months ago. I had just been laid off from an awful office job downtown. Well, actually, my boss had called it a 'mandatory vacation leave.' I couldn’t figure out why I needed a vacation in the middle of spring. At the time, my tiny cubicle had been covered in different-coloured Post-It notes detailing the multitude of topics I needed to cover for the annual report. I was suffering from a wicked case of insomnia; no matter what I tried to do to get to sleep, my body just wouldn’t rest. I’d spent hours upon hours at both work and home compiling all kinds of data. When I finally put a report together I headed up to the monthly meeting with my boss. I just walked in when I started to feel woozy. The room began to spin and I collapsed on the ground. The last thing I remembered was a big group of people around me. I woke up a few days later in my bed with my mother anxiously waiting by my side with a damp cloth.

Now, all this may seem to be laid out very simply for you. You might ask how this constitutes something far from normal. I have to warn you, and partly assure you, that this is the only normal part of my story. It gets very complicated after this, so just stop me at any time if you have questions. I sincerely hope you’re ready.

This whole scenario happened the night after I woke up to find my mother terrified that I’d fallen into a comatose state. I settled for watching TV and eating pizza. For the first time in weeks, I felt exhausted so I figured why not use the vacation time to catch up on sleep? I just got comfortable in bed when a splitting headache hit me.

"Oh, great. How about that? Another bout of insomnia coming your way at a mile a minute."

As these thoughts trickled through my mind I felt a sudden sensation that I was falling. I was falling farther and farther away from my body. After an eternity of nothingness, I hit something. Hard. With a jolt I rose out of bed gasping. For a minute I thought that I was just having another blackout and woke up in my parent’s house. But the place was completely new. I’d never been to this apartment.

The first sign that I wasn’t me anymore occurred when my body walked out into the streets without my control. If you’ve ever watched those shows on TV where you’re viewing the story from a first-person perspective and find yourself tagging along with the main character as they go about their lives, this was eerily like that.

The second sign was that the person I was “following” inside had spotted a young girl out for a late-night jog. All at once, I went from feeling drained of all emotion to feeling my heartbeat race, my eyes narrow, and intense feelings of bloodlust hit my hands with a subtle twitch. My face contorted into a grin, and I felt my blood beginning to boil with anticipation. The sickening bounce of adrenaline rocked my system and I began to run after her. I caught up to her and tackled her in an alleyway.

My heart was pounding. The shape of her perfect body; small, scared and contorting under my weight made me hunger to see more skin. I smelled her fear, and it turned me on. I had to have her blood; it had to become mine, and it had to become mine now. I reached into my pocket and pulled out a knife. Covering her mouth I held it to her throat.
There was a small tug. The sound that resulted was comparable to that of slowly ripping satin sheets. I stood watching her pale body slowly draining onto the warm pavement. I held up the bloody weapon and watched it drip.

I watched it all happen in the glittering reflection of the cold steel against moonlight. It was the last thing I remembered before I 'jumped' back into my own body.

When I awoke, the entire night was etched into my memory, detail by bloody detail. This would not be the first time “I” killed. The dream part didn’t disturb me; the only thing that left me with a scar was that I had seen it all through my very own eyes.

Through the eyes of a killer.

All rights reserved. No part of this story may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the author, except where permitted by law. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, brands, media and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication / use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with or sponsored by these trademark owners. Copyright © 2010 - 2021 by Branfakes.
  • Wow 1
Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
You are not currently following this story. Be sure to follow to keep up to date with new chapters.

Recommended Comments

Chapter Comments

View Guidelines

Create an account or sign in to comment

You need to be a member in order to leave a comment

Create an account

Sign up for a new account in our community. It's easy!

Register a new account

Sign in

Already have an account? Sign in here.

Sign In Now
  • Newsletter

    Sign Up and get an occasional Newsletter.  Fill out your profile with favorite genres and say yes to genre news to get the monthly update for your favorite genres.

    Sign Up
×
×
  • Create New...

Important Information

Our Privacy Policy can be found here: Privacy Policy. We have placed cookies on your device to help make this website better. You can adjust your cookie settings, otherwise we'll assume you're okay to continue..