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Anomalous

We've all had those dreams where you sink into a state so deep it feels like you've entered a place that shouldn't exist. This was one of those dreams for me. I usually remember my dreams only when they have some sort of significance or when my mother visits me, but this nightmare ranks among my top five horror shows. It's been a few months since I woke up bawling from it, but I still remember it clearly, so I decided to write it out. What better way to face your fears than to create something from them?


 

Anomalous

I found myself back at the old brownstone, a place I’d visited many times before. But this time, it felt wrong, anomalous. The building stood in its familiar shape, but the atmosphere was oppressive, a heavy, suffocating cloak that seemed to muffle sound and dull light. The hallway, once inviting with its faded wallpaper and creaky floorboards, now stretched into darkness. Shadows filled the corners, their shapes shifting, hinting at things unseen. Though I was alone, the house whispered with hidden breaths, its walls alive with murmurs and sighs.


The brownstone had ten rooms across four floors. It used to be filled with my family’s laughter, but now it was a tomb, echoing with forgotten memories. I walked down the hall towards the staircase, my steps hesitant. At the end of the hall was a window that overlooked the backyard. The garden, once cared for, was now overgrown with weeds and thorny brambles. An old red and yellow children's car, half-buried in dirt, lay forgotten among the tangled brush. It looked like a graveyard, an abandoned place where even nature had given up hope.


I looked towards the third floor, but the darkness seemed to pulse, as if something was waiting just beyond the reach of my vision. That’s when I heard it—a baby crying, its wail sharp and desperate, echoing off the bare walls. I knew I was alone, but the cries grew louder, piercing the silence. My instinct was to leave, and I rushed out of the house, the crying following me like a ghostly echo. Outside, the neighborhood appeared familiar, a row of small picket-fence homes with manicured lawns and neatly trimmed hedges. But the sky... the sky was wrong. It swirled with unnatural colors, like the swirling nightmare hues from Soundgarden's "Black Hole Sun" video. The whole scene was unsettling, a twisted reflection of a reality I once knew.


The cries became louder, more intense. They were filled with a sense of pain and loss, and I felt a moral tug—was it real? What if it was a child in need? I steeled myself and decided to go back, back into the house that had become my personal hell. “Fuck it,” I muttered, pushing through the front door. Inside, the cries became screams, terrible, agonizing screams that filled the house with a cacophony of pain. Two voices joined the chorus, one I recognized instantly. My brother Ty. The youngest of my siblings, who I’d watched grow up, his screams were like blades slicing through me. It was as if he was being burned alive. I ran, the screams chasing me, wrapping around me like chains. I couldn't escape, even as I fled back outside into the swirling vortex of colors.


Then I woke up, back in my own bed with Theo beside me, her arm wrapped around me. I gasped for breath, my heart racing, my body drenched in cold sweat. I sat up and told Theo about the dream, but as I spoke, her voice sounded different, low and seductive. I turned to look at her, and she was still asleep. The voice, though, whispered in my ear, "Come back, baby. Let’s make love." A cold hand touched my arm, and I froze, unable to move. My mind screamed for me to wake up, to escape this nightmare.


When my eyes finally snapped open, I burst into tears. It was 1 AM, and I grabbed my phone to text Ty, desperate to make sure he was okay. He replied, saying he was fine, and a wave of relief washed over me. Theo woke up and comforted me as I told her what happened. She'd never seen me so shaken. I was usually calm, composed, but this dream had broken something in me. It felt like I’d wandered into a place where I didn’t belong, and I never wanted to return.


No matter what, I knew I should have never gone back in for that baby. If I’m ever back here and I hear a cry from that cursed house, I'd leave without looking back. 


Fuck them kids.

 

Have you ever had a crazy dream that scared the shit out of you? Drop a comment and tell me about it.

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