He woke up panting in the middle of the night. The sweat on his head reflected the light shining inside through the window from the street lights.
He puts his palm on his back and chest.
He sweat through his cotton shirt onto the sheets. Both are stained.
The nightmare plays itself again.
Five people in a house.
A little girl’s soul on the prowl for revenge.
A little orange cup on the chimney breaks, and it’s the little girl. She’s the one that was doing all of that.
Funny how horror finds its way into the most mundane thing.
He remembers the dream as if it was real. It felt real. It still did.
He looked around, and found his watch.
Three thirty. To the dot. Three minutes later and it’s Satan’s break.
He picks up the phone, and it starts dialing.
“What are you doing up at this hour?” said a voice from the phone
“I just had a nightmare. No one else to talk to.” he said
“It’s okay. You’re okay now.” continued the voice
“Yea, I know. I know. I’m just a little shaken up.”
“I’m sorry about my tone. I thought you were out and just got back.”
He laid back in his bed and sweat.
“It’s fine, ma’.” he said. “It really is. I’m just glad I heard a familiar voice.”.
“Well, I’m going to let you go back to sleep, but before, let me just pray over you.”
She prays over the phone. His eyes scale the room for the little girl, for Satan, for God. None were visible
“Come on. Go to sleep, and call me tomorrow when you wake up.”
“Alright, alright.” he said.
“I love you.”
“Good night.” he said. “Oh. Yea. Happy Mother’s day.”
“Happy mother’s day to you too, honey.”