He Dreams of Demons
The lion crouched, its blood-stained claws shifting in its matted paws. The horns sprouting from its head winked in the red moonlight, and its eyes glinted at my face. I sat paralyzed in the grass, my limbs trembling. Slowly, the lion dropped into a crouch and started toward me in a silent run. I opened my mouth to scream, but no sound came out, even as the monster roared and leaped upon me...
I sat up in bed, gasping. Not this nightmare again. Every night, the demon lion stalked through my dreams, threatening me, haunting me.
It started when I was five, living in Hayti, Missouri, with my parents. My nightmares would awaken me in a cold sweat, crying for my mom, but our house was long and the walls were thick, so often I would check under my own bed, trembling and trying to muster up some courage.
The week I started checking under the bed, I started to see the face of the lion forming on street cones. It roared at me, then vanished as soon as I tugged on my dad's hand. Then they began to appear every night on the corner poles of my bed.
Most nights, I was smart enough to slam the dust ruffle back and slither deep into my comforter. But one night, I lingered, watching the faces move and snarl. Suddenly, they began to seep away from the poles, pooling into a red mass right under my bed. I kept watching, frozen in place.
When the demon's body was fully formed, it leaped at me, claws extended. I tumbled out of bed, hitting the floor hard with my head; I could barely see, but made out the shape of the lion standing over me. Kicking out with both feet, I knocked its jaw, sending it backwards long enough for me to scramble up and dash down the hall to my parents' room.
"Mom! Dad! There's a monster in my room!" I pounded on their door until it swung open, then darted across the room and pulled myself onto the bed. "Mommy! Please! It comed out from under my bed!"
I turned in time to see the lion push its bulky body through the doorway, rear onto its hind legs, and point a dripping claw at me. I screamed and buried my face in the covers between my parents. My dad rolled sleepily out of bed and shuffled into the hall before I could warn him, but when there was no scream, I dared to look.
The lion was standing just inside the room, watching me. It dipped its horns, snarled softly, then sprang into the air, dissolving into a thick red cloud. Even as I watched, the cloud flew toward me and enveloped my face, dashing up my nostrils.
I choked and gagged and blacked out. When I awoke, my mother's hand was on my back, and I was in my bed again.
"You're sick, sweetie," she said soothingly. "Just get some rest. I'll be in to check on you in a few hours."
I could feel the heavy red nightmare circling my brain, and knew that whatever monster I had unleashed, I was doomed to carry it for the rest of my days.
