Between blankets and nightmares: contos, #1

By Ricardo Almeida

In "Between Blankets and Nightmares," dive into the depths of Greg's mind, where the line between reality and imagination unravels. This captivating and emotional account begins when a simple Facebook post triggers forgotten memories and unearths a haunted past.

Greg unveils his childhood struggle with an imaginary friend that morphs into a terrifying nightmare. The compelling narrative explores the delicate border between innocent childhood and the terrors that lurk in the shadows. A profound reflection on the unimaginable cruelty a supposed friend can inflict, "Between Blankets and Nightmares" takes readers on a distressing and revealing journey.

Following Greg from the days when illuminated rooms were his only sanctuary to his hospitalization in a psychiatric ward, the story highlights his struggle to distinguish the real from the unreal. The detailed description of nights filled with threats and insults, intertwined with moments of compassion in an unusual hospital, creates a suspenseful atmosphere that captivates the reader until the last word.

With skillful prose, the author delves into Greg's deepest fears, providing an engaging and emotional reading experience. "Between Blankets and Nightmares" is not just a horror story but an exploration of human resilience in the face of darkness.

Get ready for a compelling narrative that challenges the boundaries of sanity and delves into the depths of the unknown. "Between Blankets and Nightmares" is more than a mere account—it is an emotional journey that will resonate in the reader's mind long after turning the last page.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ricardo Almeida
• Release date: Nov 18, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223420286

Book preview

Table of Contents

Between blankets and nightmares (contos, #1)

You know something, I had actually managed to forget all about this until just a minute

ago.

After surfing Facebook and seeing a post about somebody finding the sibling that they had

no idea existed, I almost want to turn this into a PSA about getting off social media,

but I'm not that preachy.

I'm like it's not their fault or Facebook's, I'm just saying stuff brought back bad memories

for me you know.

While okay maybe you don't know and I hope you don't anyway, I wish that I never did.

To begin this you need to know that for the longest time I thought that I had an imaginary

friend.

Notice I used that term extremely lightly.

Tell me are friends supposed to tell you that they hate you?

Are friends supposed to tell you how they're going to kill everybody that you love and care

about?

While mine did constantly.

Most of my nights as a kid were spent with all the lights on in the entire night, which

you can imagine all my folks were willing to put up with that, just to maybe give me

to find me go to sleep.

Though endoviously my folks weren't believing me when I told them about my friend.

They would tell me to tell him to go away, maybe cap him with my BB gun until he ran

away.

Heck, my dad even told me that I should punch him in the nose.

Yeah, teach him a lesson or two, as he would put it.

Now okay genius and then what, shake my finger and shout harsh words at him.

You see even when I was little, I had understood the difference between actual imaginary friends

and whatever this was, real I guess.

By this I mean that with imaginary friends, you are actually in control you know.

You make him appear and disappear right.

Make him do whatever you want to do, whenever and however you want him to do it.

But I didn't have any of that, not here.

Oh no, I had this.

I had the voice of a little boy just constantly hurling insults and threats at me.

It wasn't just at night though of course.

Now he followed me everywhere, in my bedroom the bathroom the tub.

This one was a favorite for him, especially when it came to telling me his to do list

of murders.

Outside of the bus stop on the bus at school, everywhere.

There was no running from him, no hiding from him.

The year whoever he was was stuck to the hip with me.

Most of the time I would ignore his voice.

As funny as it was because of this, I had actually find myself paying close attention

to every word out of my teacher's mouth, just so that I could drown out his voice with

something.

That word to sort of for about the first two or three years in elementary school.

But come fourth grade nope, nothing on this earth was keeping him out of my ears literally

here.

That was the first time that I had actually been admitted to the funny farm.

After a kid saw me run into the bathroom with one of my plastic forks that I had been using,

for my peas and carrots and attempt to drive them into my ears.

The school was put into lockdown for a bit after that, so I heard, and I was escorted

to the principal's office by one of the SROs in the assistant principal.

They repeatedly asked me why I was trying to harm myself including asking about my home

life and if I was getting along with other kids here at school.

I remember being silent, not to be rude of course but more like I couldn't actually

speak.

No I don't mean being at a loss for words either, I just couldn't say anything.

I wanted to but couldn't, no matter how hard I screamed at myself to do so.

My folks were soon called which then drew the process out a lot more and made stuff a lot

more complicated than I ever wanted it to be.

To make this part of the story short an ambulance was called and