This was my contribution to @The_Write_Place 's Sharing Nightmares – Horror Anthology. For this one I tried to ramp up the tension and go for the horror, dealing with the very real issue of sleep paralysis

*****

Tonight will be different.

The thought plays over and over in my head, to the point where I realise I've stopped listening to Martin on the phone.

"So, your date went well?" I say, trying to get back on track with the conversation. I balance the phone between my shoulder and ear while I fold an old T-shirt and place it in a drawer beside my bed.

"Well, she got in that taxi pretty quickly," Martin says. "But there was also that long kiss. So, who knows? It did feel a little odd though, being out on a date while there were kids running around Trick or Treating."

"Well that's one way to spend a Halloween," I tell him. While others were out partying in costume, or knocking on doors asking for treats, I had my own plan for the night. "See how she sounds when you speak to her next."

"Yeah, true," Martin says thoughtfully. "Anyway, dude." His voice takes a strange, harder tone. "I should get going. It's getting late."

Oh, that's why he sounds weird, I think to myself. I sigh and say, "I'll be fine. You don't have to worry about me every time I go to sleep."

Pacing my bedroom, my bare feet slapping on the wooden floor, I come to a stop as I wait for his response. Complete darkness shows from the two roof windows of my loft room.

"I know," Martin finally says. "But it seems like you have those nightmares every night, these days."

I shake my head, despite the truth in his words. I should've been talking to Amy about this. If she would talk to me, that is.

"It's never as bad as it sounds," I lie, trying to sound casual. "Sleep paralysis is a common problem for loads of people."

"And sleep apnoea, yeah. But that doesn't mean it's not a serious issue. I mean, it could..."

"It can be fatal," I finish what he couldn't say. "I know, dude. Look, you should get off the phone, in case that girl calls you for a post-date chat."

"It's not the nineties, anymore," Martin says, slightly irritated. "Phones can tell us if someone rings when we're on a call."

I chuckle. "Okay, then just get off the phone. It's sleepy dreamtime."

Martin laughs at the reference to an old joke we have. "Okay I'll leave you to it, Lee. Have a good, and safe, sleep."

A part of me shudders at his words. We shouldn't have to wish people safe sleep. At almost twenty years old, I shouldn't have to worry about going to sleep – worried that the boogie man would get me. "Thanks man. Speak later."

"And Lee," Martin adds. "Happy Halloween."

I smile weakly. "And to you."

We hang up and I remain holding the phone against my chest. My new clock ticks loudly in the quiet room. A shiver runs over me. Okay, time to do this.

At the window sill, I light the stubby candles lined up, as well as the candles on my bedside table and on top of the drawers at the foot of my bed. A warm, vanilla scent wafts over the room – the smell reminds me of church when I was a kid.

I drop down and start doing push-ups. Both my mind and my body needed to be strong for what I was going to do. I soon become lost in the routine – I can do over thirty reps now.

Breaking free from the demons of sleep can take a terrible toll on the body.

Those were the words of the old Filipino man who had told me how to stop the nightmares. It took me weeks to find him online, and longer to research several websites and forums to find out that he was as legit as he claimed.

To end my sleep paralysis nightmares, I needed to follow his every word.

As I begin my sit-up routine, my mind wanders to Amy. I wish I could call her tonight, to speak to her one last time before I went through with this. But she'd made it clear she didn't want to speak to me; not after our last argument. If I make it through tonight, she'll be the first person I call in the morning. I'll make everything right. Everything will be better after tonight.

I stretch and shake my tense muscles. It feels like I'm about to run a marathon, rather than the nice, relaxing sleep I should be having.

I turn off the bedroom light, and the candles fight the darkness with their dull, yellow glow. I watch the shadows wavering over the room as I run through my checklist. All the windows are closed, the blinds are now up. My door is closed but not locked. The candles are burning. The new clock I bought continues to tick loudly.

Fuck, what if this goes wrong? I shake the chilling thought away as I climb into bed. Somehow, I feel like every action I'm taking now will lead to the end. I pull the covers up and keep my arms over the duvet as I lie on my back, legs straight and close together. The way the Filipino man told me to.

A sheet of light appears under my door, lighting the opposite wall. The bathroom door closes downstairs. My dad washing up before bed.

God, I hope I see them again, I think as I lie in the gloomy darkness. With my sister married and out of the country, I was the only one left to look after my elderly parents, who had me late in life. Mum wasn't doing so well these days, and I don't know what Dad would do without me, or her.

Closing my eyes, I focus on my breathing as I start counting backwards from one hundred. I had to do this right, for them. For Amy. For myself.

I hear the downstairs light flick off and my dad going to his room as my heartbeat slowly relaxes. I begin to feel the onset of sleep. Sixty-eight. Sixty-seven.

Sixty-six.

At some point I become vaguely aware of no longer counting. Had I fallen asleep?

A floorboard softly creaks in my room.

The sound immediately quickens my heart. Oh God, it's happening.

Keeping still – not that I could move, anyway – I slowly, very slowly, inch my eyes open, keeping them mostly pressed together. Through the dim light, and my blurry, limited vision, I see the shadow in my room.

The shadow man remains still, standing silently near the far corner, mostly obscured by the real shadows around it. While it would be hard to see it, two dull red orbs fill the space where its eyes should be, giving it away. Two red lights in the darkness, staring at me.

Rather than moving closer, it remains still. Which only means one thing.

It's just there to watch. And that meant it wasn't my true tormentor tonight. The thought sends a cold shiver over me.

When the shadow man didn't try to reach for me, or drag me out of bed, it meant it would just stand there, waiting for something else to appear. Something worse.

The hairs on my arms tingle as I press my eyes shut, trying to steady my breathing. I'm asleep. I have to act like I'm asleep. Even if I'm aware of everything. That's the thing about sleep paralysis; you're caught in between asleep and awake, locked in a world where nightmares are very real, your mind fully awake while your body is trapped on the other side.

No matter what, do not let them know you are awake, the Filipino man told me. Despite having only spoken to him online, I picture his voice as an old, wise mentor, like from a Kung Fu film.

Concentrating on my breathing, I focus on the vanilla scent of the candles and the ticking clock. The links tying me to the real world.

Something presses down on my bed, near my feet. Then another pressure point shifts the mattress, tilting my legs a little. At first it reminds me of a small animal walking over my bed, like when I used to stay over my cousin's house and their cat would come into my room and walk on my bed. But I know this isn't a cat...

The points of pressure move closer to my chest, under my exposed arm. The bed creaks from the movement. I keep my eyes firmly shut, my face as relaxed as I can make it, despite the fear coursing through me. I'm sleeping, they can't get to me. Sweat builds up; my face grows hot.

A light wind brushes over my arm. No – a whispery cloth; something tangible.

Oh God, it's her.

It's her.

Focus on the ticking clock. Smell the candles. Don't let them–

A heavy weight presses down against my chest. For a moment my breath is taken, before I fight through the pressure and try to maintain my steady heart rate. She can't affect me, I'm asleep, she hasn't seen me wake up.

I hoped to god the old man was right about all this.

People say that these are just nightmares, that I can't actually be hurt, but... fuck me, it feels so real. I couldn't deny the weight on my chest, the feel of cloth against my bare arms, and that rancid, decaying odour coming from her.

I didn't need to open my eyes to know what was sitting on me. I had seen her enough times before. If I looked up, I would see a dark, squat form – a tangled mess of hair over tattered black robes. The witch.

Close to my face, a light, crackly voice says, "I know you're awake." The sound is so sharp it's like an airhorn in the silence.

Oh God, oh God.

I'm asleep. She can't get to me. Usually they would see me peeking, or the pained grimace on my face told them I was awake. When they grabbed me, I would always attempt to scream, despite having no voice in these nightmares. But not tonight. Tonight, I was dead to the world. I had to stay asleep at all costs, according to the old man.

My floorboards creak again as a throbbing sensation builds up in my ears. The shadow man is getting closer, I can feel it.

Sweat drips down my face, the beads tingling and itching my temples. I wanted so badly to rub my face and clear the itching sensation.

Concentrating on my feet, I tense and attempt to wiggle my toes. The witch won't see if they move, and at this point I don't care if the shadow man notices. My toes shift. I focus on the movement. Yes, they can move. I'm not fully paralysed.

The pressure on my chest shifts slightly and the harsh stench increases. Focus on the candles.

Keep the plan in mind, I remind myself. It's almost time.

Cold fingers slowly curl around my throat. The grip tightens as both hands take hold.

A numbing shiver runs through me as my breath catches. No, no, don't...

It takes everything I have not to gasp, to not open my eyes or show any signs of distress. Heat flushes my face as I silently fight for breath, unable to move or do anything to stop her.

Now is the time. It has to be. Please, let it be time.

Her fingers tighten over my throat, and I can't stop a slight gasp escaping.

"Come to me, Lee." Her gravelly voice is close, her rank breath on me.

I fight against the throbbing sensation burning my face and try to move my arm. The mattress shifts and my arm drops, falling free as if a hole has just opened next to me. A heavy wind blows over my dangling arm. It's not real, I forcefully remind myself. My body shifts towards the hole in my bed, as if I can fall through it. And maybe I can.

The clock seems to tick louder, as if fighting against the demons in my room. Keep your heart rate in line with the ticking clock, I was told.

I try and move my hand, focusing everything I have on my fingers.

What strength and willpower I can feel within me starts to ebb, my focus waning. Despite my eyes being closed, I feel a dizzy, spinning sensation, and the urge to vomit.

The duvet moves by my feet. The air changes as my feet become exposed – something lifting the covers.

Cold ringlets of wet hair brush against my shins, causing ripples of shivers over me. The hair brings an incredible itching sensation and the instinct to kick my legs out, but I can't. I can't.

Fuck. What the fuck is this?

A quiet gasp escapes me, my dry lips shifting only slightly, but keep my eyes firmly shut.

Something large and warm moves against my legs, under the covers, going further up the bed. My arm remains dangling in empty air, my body sinking even more towards the hole beside me.

Oh God, oh God. It was now or never.

The ticking spurns me on. The incense gives me focus.

Willing myself into action, I open my eyes. I spring to life, lifting my torso and bringing my arms together as I scream, releasing every last drop of energy I have.

I blink through the blurriness and darkness. I'm sitting up on my bed, breathing heavily and gasping for air. Sweat is dripping down my shirt and beading my hot face.

I'm alone in the room. My arms are in front of me as if I've just tried to catch air. No witch, no shadow man, and nothing under the covers. My sputtering breaths are the only sound.

Holy shit... I did it. I'm awake. I beat them.

I caught them in their own world.

I can smell the glowing candles, and hear the clock. Did the ticking sound different? Muted?

I look over the room as I carefully crawl out of bed. Everything is in place, but something didn't feel right. I'm definitely awake, I tell myself.

I did it. I could see Amy again. I could still take care of my parents. My shoulders sag as relief washes over me.

I turn back to my bed, and see myself there.

My heart jumps at the sight. There I am, still in bed, in the same position in which I'd fallen asleep.

What the...

My stomach tightens as I take a shaky step closer, my foot pressing against the cold floor. Sweat drips from my face as I look upon myself. If I'm there...

No, no, no.

I shake my head. No, this can't be, I'm still dreaming. But I did everything the old man said. I beat the demons. I...

Rimmed by the blinds on the windows, I see the sky is lighter outside. A cool blue rather than a deep black. I move towards the window and lift the blind up with a sense of dread. My street is the same, but, different. A cold shade of blue tints the world, like the early dawn light. Except, it's still the middle of the night.

I look back over my room, noticing how blue the room is also, even with the yellow candle light. This isn't right. The world isn't right. I'm...

My floorboard creaks. I spin towards the sound, my pulse pounding in my ears, and see the shadow man in the corner. Its flaming red eyes are on me.

"Welcome," it says, grinning.