Going to sleep was his favorite part of the day. Something about the warmth of his bed and the temporary reprieve from the day’s exhaustions made John excited to go to sleep every day. As he got back from practice, John dropped his bag on the floor and got ready for another night of rest and relaxation. The clock on his desk read eleven-thirty as he flipped the light off and settled into bed. He closed his eyes, and drifted off to sleep. 

John’s eyes snapped open. He couldn’t be sure how long he was asleep, or even if he was asleep at all. He scanned the room, and it was almost pitch-black, shades drawn and lights off, with only a small glow emitting from the clock. He tried to make out the time, but he couldn’t quite figure it out. Maybe my eyes are blurry, John thought. He went to get up and check his phone, and read the display. 11:45. 

John took a moment to think, then went to open the door to his hallway. I’ll go for a quick walk, he figured. Take a lap, get some fresh air, tire his legs a little, go back to bed. That would work. He took a glance at the clock, which read 11:44, which couldn’t be right. Whatever. I probably just read it wrong. 

He grabbed the handle and whipped open the door. 

The hallway was dark. He could barely even make out a wall. This sucks. He turned back to his door, and as he reached where he thought his door handle was, he grabbed a handful of air. A cold feeling crept into his mind and radiated down his spine. The air, which had felt normal a moment ago, now had a discernible stench, like a piece of rotting fruit. John felt his way along the wall, hoping to feel his door knob and get back to his bed.

The wall felt rough. Rougher than it is. John looked around, trying to get his bearings, but he couldn’t even see his own hands. A sinking feeling hit him like a punch to the gut. He walked forward, feeling nothing but the rough, brick-like texture- no doors, lights, or window frames. What felt like wood creaked softly under his feet. 

Crrrrrrreeeeeeeeeeeeee. 

Several yards behind, the noise echoed down the hall. John was certain it wasn’t him. CrrrRRRRREEEE. 

Again, but louder. John felt paralyzed. He started to walk backwards, away from the sound. Thudding sounds began to creep towards him. John broke into a sprint, attempting to escape something he could not see. He slammed into a wall twenty seconds later, and fell to the ground. The noises got closer, louder, more menacing. 

John kept sprinting, but couldn’t seem to put any distance between him and the noises. He closed his eyes, and prayed that it was just a bad dream. 

It wasn’t. 

John stared straight ahead, seeing nothing, and waited for the nightmare to end.