A Dream

I was asleep late-ish once again last night after eating some chocolate (which I forgot induced dreams). I slept somewhat peacefully until quite the terrifying dream struck my mind. I have been having linked dreams that feature the same awful villain who loves to use needles (needles are pretty much my phobia) to torture me. He's usually got me locked away in some dark room, but last night he decided to come pay me a visit, the fiend.

I wake for an unknown reason, after falling asleep to Coldplay, and I can't go back to sleep, so I commence to get up and shower, eat breakfast and go outside to my swing. Afterwards I find myself back in my house tied to the ground under a nasty-big machine, which had a needle at least a foot long afixed immediatly above my head. I close my eyes, heart beating very quickly. It's dark in my wood floored living room, with minimal light filtering through the glass door. I jerk my head to the left to see a shadow of a man who is not dead nor alive, who is living yet dead, somehow. He moves his hand to the machine, and the needle inches towards my skull. something thrusts itself into my spine disabling my movement. I'd cry out but I can't. The skin of my temple is getting pierced by the foot long thing, and I barely hear the dark man tell me it can't do any damage, the way it goes through. the pain is unbearable, fire in my eyes, throughout my body, pouring kerosene into my head and tossing a lit match into it. I fall into a vat of liquid metal, and watch the flames be doused as the needle quickly withdraws from my brain. I jerk vigorously, listening to the shadow laugh a laugh of pure hatred. I blink as all of the machine and shadows disappear and I find myself sprawled out across the floor, blood puddled around my head and staining my shirt. Jerking up, I stare at the hallway in front of my door, with screams emitting from the right, in the direction of my parent's room. Rushing there silently, I immediatley reach for the firearm kept in the secret place to find it's been taken. Taken by the shadow, who is now pointing it at my head. My older brother is unconcious across the television set, and my parents standing together behind the bed, helpless to defend anyone. The dark one suddenly shifts and trains the pistol on my little brother, the poor child that just walked to mother's room after a dream. The boy screams for my help. My emotions are mixed into tears and deafening roars of hatred for that awful person. All I feel for him is utter rage; how could this puke even stand to point a gun at a six year old!? Through the tears blurring my vision, I pound my fist into the man's face, grab the pistol, twist it from his hand and smack him across the skull with it, all the while emitting a roar. he backs up against the door of the closet, and I press the cold steel to his forehead. My body is trembling uncontrollably, and my face is streaming with tears. Glancing to the right, I see my older brother bent wide eyed across the bed. After facing the straight face man, I can't bring myself to pull the trigger. Why? Can't I just pull the trigger and end it all? He's tormented me for months, why won't I end it right here!? I lower my shaking head, and close my eyes. With a renewed hatred I stare into his emotionless cold eyes. My hands squeeze the pistol, followed by my fingers on the trigger. The instant before his assured death-
THE END!