As I lay in bed I cannot help but feel the anticipated dread. In the back of my mind I know what awaits but every occurrence eludes me nonetheless. From outside my door I can hear the all too familiar crawling that I have become accustomed to during these long nights. The door creaks open and the greasy body makes its way towards my bedside. The contorted motions of the being are unbearable accompanied with the creaking of bones and the whispers of the dead.
Eyes shut, I can smell her sour breath as she climbs over me. With each rotten finger imprinting my face with groveling residue, she forces my eyes open and begins to scream, filling my mouth with her breath and soon with insects. The guttural sound of her screams combined with the feeling of the insects finding their way to my throat seems interminable. Then, the woman leaves as quickly as she came. With her body slithering out the door with the same ominous whispers, I follow her out.
I emerge from the torture chamber that is my bedroom and enter the bathroom. I look into the mirror, and what looks back at me is not me, but the woman. With no hesitation I begin to tear the woman’s flesh from my face. It peels off easily, like the skin on a well cooked turkey, but the pain is not as easy to swallow. Even my teeth are not my own, and they look and smell of decay. I rid myself of those as well, leaving my mouth empty of teeth but full of putrid blood. As I continue to mindlessly rid myself of this curse, the woman laughs behind me.
And then I woke up.