Perpetual Nightmare

By Traci Smith

The nightmare unfolds as Torey makes her way through desolate landscapes and maddening situations to search for her missing boyfriend. As the line between reality and fantasy begins to blur, Torey must not only fight for her love, but also her sanity.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Traci Smith
• Release date: Sep 21, 2011
• ISBN: 9781466100060

Traci Smith

I currently live in southwestern Pennsylvania with my husband, Richard; my dog, Ceasar; and my cat, Luna. I am a horror fanatic. I enjoy writing, reading, watching movies, playing guitar, and listening to music.

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Perpetual Nightmare

By: Traci Smith

Copyright 2011 Traci Smith

Smashwords Edition

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Perpetual Nightmare

Chapter 1:

Beep beep beep. I snapped out of sleep, rubbing my eyes and groaning. I hit the off button on the alarm clock on my nightstand that stood at 5:30 a.m. In the background I could hear the shower running and thought to myself that Andrew must already be up getting ready for work. I rolled over to his side of the bed, as was my morning custom, and snuggled into his indentation in the mattress and the pillow, the down comforter falling loosely around my shoulder. I sighed as I focused on the blackness behind my eyelids and drifted back to sleep.

The light came in sharply through the bedroom windows. The unwelcome rays tore me from my sleep. I opened my eyes and watched the dust fly in and out of the beams of light that stretched their way across the room. I tried to adjust my ears to the surroundings, confused by the sound of running water in the background. I looked over at the alarm and saw that it was 10 a.m. Why would the shower still be running? Did Andrew get off early? I forced myself out of bed and walked towards the bathroom. I opened the door to complete darkness. I turned the bathroom light on, pushed back the burgundy shower curtain, and turned the shower off, a few ice cold droplets of water catching my hand as I did. His white T-shirt and plaid boxers lay side by side sloppily on the floor with his towel. What were the chances that he would shave, get dressed, turn off the light, and leave the shower running? It made no sense. I left the bathroom and went back over next to the bed. I threw on my flip flops and walked briskly out of the bedroom and down the hallway.

Baby? I called out. Nothing but silence came back in return.

I tried to tell myself to remain calm, that it was nothing, but there was a nagging sensation deep in the pit of my stomach that I couldn't get rid of, a sensation that there was no mistaking that something was terribly wrong. I crossed through the living room, and out the front door, taking not one moment to think that my black negligee was not meant for public eyes. Upon reaching the carport, I stared in confusion and disbelief. His car was still sitting right next to mine. How was that possible? Did someone pick him up this morning? If someone had picked him up, who would have it been? None of his coworkers lived anywhere nearby. The car was in working order as far as I knew.

Now panicked, I ran back inside, banging my shoulder against the thick door frame. I shook off the pain and ran back to the bedroom to my nightstand. I picked up my cell phone and dialed Andrew's cell number. I jumped at the sound of his phone ringing out from the nightstand on the opposite side of the bed. The shower was left running; his car remained in the carport. Thoughts swirled through my mind, playing out different scenarios. None of them made the situation make any more sense. I feverishly dialed his work number, reminding myself that I could not sound panicked when the receptionist picked up the phone.

Palmside Clinic, Susan speaking, the soft southern voice answered.

Yes, is Andrew Dennings in?

No, I am sorry, he has not come in yet this morning. May I take a message?

I hit the hang up button. I decided that my next best bet was Mike. Mike was Andrew’s best friend. If anyone would know what was going on, surely he would. I took a deep breath and dialed the number. After a few rings, Mike finally answered.

Hey Torey, what’s up?

I took a second to clear my mind and my throat and began to speak.

I was wondering if you had talked to Andrew this morning. He left the shower running and his car is still outside. His cell phone is still here. I’m just a little freaked out. It felt really good to be able to explain the situation to someone else.

Wow, that’s really weird. I haven’t talked to him though. You guys weren’t fighting or anything were you? I can’t imagine him just taking off without his car.

No, no, nothing like that. I was asleep when he got up to get ready for work. I woke up and found the shower still running and his car still here. I called his work. He’s not there. I am worried. I could feel the panic rising in my chest. Mike hadn’t heard from him. What could possibly have happened?

Well, you should call his family. I hate to think about it, but you should probably try the hospitals and the jail too if you have no luck there. Either way, keep me posted. I am worried about him too, Mike replied. I could hear some of the panic I was feeling resonating in his voice as well. I will be sure to give the other guys a call. If I hear anything, I will give you a call.

Thanks Mike, I really appreciate it.

After hanging up, I started going through all of his family that lived in town even a few that did not. No one knew where he was, and what was worse I was almost sure that they were all convinced that we must be having problems at home now. They all promised to call if they heard anything and made me promise to do the same. I called the hospitals and the jail too. I had no luck, and I felt more and more terrified with each fruitless call. Andrew had disappeared off of the face of the planet and it would be at least a day before I could file a missing persons report.

Where could he have gone to? If he wasn’t at work, what would he be doing? All of the sudden it came to me.

Surfing, I bet he went surfing, I whispered to myself. I immediately felt foolish for it taking me so long to come to the conclusion. I ran through the house again, out the door, and to the shed that was attached to the carport. I opened the door and all of my hopes were dashed in an instant the second I saw his surfboard resting against the washing machine.

My shoulders slumped and I shuffled my way back into the house back to my bedroom. The helplessness overtook me and I fell to my knees crying. I felt like I would vomit as my stomach churned and my head spun. I sat there on my bedroom floor, unable to move, watching the light change over the hours, tears streaming down my face. I traced over every inch of him in my mind, his brown hair, his hazel eyes, his olive skin tone, the way that he towered over me and would smile down into my face before kissing me. I tried thinking to myself what he would do if in my shoes. He would have been calm and rational, not sitting on the floor crying like a baby.

It was dark now. My legs hand gone numb and my mouth was dry. I yelled at myself in my head to move, that sitting on the floor was getting me nowhere. I stood up, my legs fraught with pins and needles, and walked to the bathroom. I flipped on the light, poured water into the glass that sat on the sink next to the faucet and drank greedily. I opened my eyes and the glass dropped from my hand and as it shattered on the cream tile I began to scream.

The mirror had gone black. In front of me stood a black figure. It was more of an outline than an actual being. Two angry red eyes stared at me from the other side of the glass. A gruff voice began to speak.

We have him. If you want him back, you must come in and get him.

Just as quickly as it had appeared the figure was gone. Its words rang through my head over and over. Shock overtook me. The mirror remained black inside its gold trimming. It did not even seem like I was in my bathroom or in my home. It was like the blackness had come out of the mirror and tainted everything that surrounded me. I tried to reason with myself, telling myself that I was only dreaming, that none of this was possible, that there was no way to go through a mirror, and that there was no way Andrew was on the other side of it.

I slowly reached out to the mirror with a shaky hand. My fingers grazed the hot surface and caused ripples. I gasped, thinking that I must have lost it. There was no way that this could be real. It simply was not possible. I rubbed my fingers together, but felt no wetness. Strange that it rippled, yet left no residue. I told myself that it was not strange at all; nothing ever made sense in dreams.

I reached out again, this time moving wrist deep into the mirror, my hand covered with heat from inside the blackness. I started to contemplate if I could actually go through the mirror. Furthermore, if I did go through the mirror, what would be waiting for me on the other side? What if I died the second I went through the mirror? I pulled my hand back in, the air in the bathroom feeling frigid around my hand. A tingling sensation moved across my hand. It felt as if the circulation had been cut off from it for a long time and was being allowed to run through again. I stared at my hand and then shook my head. I knew that I could not just keep standing, staring, and doing nothing. If there was even the slightest chance that Andrew was on the other side of the mirror, would that not be enough reason to make it worth it to go through. I climbed up onto the bathroom counter. I thought of Andrew, held my breath, and pushed myself through.

Chapter 2:

I opened my eyes and gasped. I stared with wide eyes at the landscape that surrounded me. The sky was scorched black; the trees were ash colored, leafless, and twisted, taking the shape of monsters. Fields of what looked like toxic green straw stretched out for miles bordering the ominous mountains in the distance. A single ashen path lay before me and I shuddered as the heat radiated up my legs from the ground, immediately creating a film of sweat on them.

Where am I? What is this place? I whispered to myself in a panicky voice.

I looked behind me and a black square the size of the bathroom mirror still remained. It wasn’t too late to climb back through. However, even if I went back, what would I be going back to? Would I really be able to live with not at least taking a look around, knowing that Andrew could be here, that his life could be in danger? My inner voice let me know simply that I could not. I knew it to be an indisputable fact. As scared as I was, I started to walk forward down the ashen path, leading myself into the sea of toxic green, praying to god or whoever else was up there that it would not swallow me whole.

As I walked the ash began to gather on my sweaty feet. It reminded me of how the sand felt in the summertime back home. In my mind I could see it. I could see Andrew smiling with his surfboard in hand, running towards the water. How I loved to watch him surf. He had such child-like innocence when he went surfing. You could see the pure happiness in his eyes. They would look glazed over with glee. It was always wonderful to see anyone so passionate about anything. I could feel my lip begin to tremble and looked up just in time to realize I was about to start walking off the path.

I stood for a second, looking at the toxic straw. It was such a radiant green. I reached out and stroked one of the long blades. I jumped back, feeling the burn against my fingertips. I looked at them and they were stained green. They throbbed as they would have if I had run my fingers across a burner. I became very glad that I had looked up before I strayed off the path. My injury would have been much more severe by the looks of it. I resolved to pay more attention, ignore the burns on my fingers, and to keep walking.

Hours had passed. My legs were aching from walking. Sweat poured down my body and through my already soaked negligee. I was thirsty, but there was no water anywhere to be seen. I noted a nearby tree stump. I tested it with my toe, remembering how the grass had burned me before. I felt no burn and decided it was ok to sit and take a rest. I looked around me, still seeing nothing but the same fields, the same trees, and the same sky. Who knew how long this place stretched for? It was at this thought that I began to sob uncontrollably, not caring if I became further dehydrated, not caring if I fell over dead where I sat. Hope was fading from me. The same thought kept passing through my head that I would never find Andrew and that he would be gone from