This is my first nosleep post as well as my first real Reddit post; so please excuse any grammatical (or formatting) mistakes.
Let me give you a little background first:
I've had extreme anxiety problems throughout my life and I've also had severe depression spells from time to time. I was a highly sadistic child and tried multiple times around the ages of 7-8 to commit suicide. I used to dream of dying when I was younger quite frequently. You know, those dreams we all have where we fall off a bridge or are caught in a car accident and we wake up sweating and nervous. This may not seem all that significant, except for the fact that my dreams actually hurt me. I don't mean where I'd get hurt in the dream; I'd wake up with a excruciatingly painful burning sensation wherever I was hurt in the dream. So those dreams we all had where we got caught in a car accident; yeah I woke up feeling like the metal really had pierced me through the gut. I'd wake up a few nights of the week like this and I eventually got used to a 9mm pain in my temple or a slithering pain down the center of my body.
A few years went by and I eventually stopped having these dreams as frequently. I'd have one every few months at the most.
But then, a few months after my 11th birthday, he started visiting me from night-to-night. He wore a dark robe, or really, more of a cloak. It wasn't black, it just didn't reflect light; it was like it was sucking the life from the area around him, leaving a void flowing behind him. He had a scythe; but yet, it wasn't as I would have imagined if I had to draw the Pale Rider. His scythe was like his cloak; it was a void, but yet, I could see wisps moving within. He never spoke to me, he just stared at me; no, my soul, with his glassy-dark eyes hovering in the sockets of his skull, as he cut my throat and reached his skeletal hand inside my chest. He always let me watch as he was digging around inside me before I bled out and thus awoke to a crippling pain in my throat and a soreness throughout the rest of my body. He was always...searching...for something; I'm not sure if he ever found it. After a few months, he eventually stopped visiting me; and I figured that he was just something that my mind had created.
A few more years go by, and around the time of my 13th birthday, he returned again. I was in the kitchen getting a drink of water from the refrigerator before I went to retire for the night. My mother was standing next to me and I saw his face in the window behind her. I screamed at her to turn around; but when she did, she saw nothing. I pushed my back against the door of the refrigerator as he misted through the window into the room. My mother started to move towards me but then she stopped as I heard Death speak for the first time.
"This is not your fate," he said, with a voice that had as much depth as the void that he wore.
My mother stopped where she was and began to stare at me, fear in her eyes. I could see her trying to move, but she couldn't get herself to do so. Death made his way towards me; I screamed at him as he cut my throat until all that could be heard was the hissing sound of my breathe pushing its way through the split in my neck. I slid to the ground and watched him as he felt around in my body before I lost consciousness from blood-loss. I woke to a searing pain in my throat and as I doubled over in pain expecting to hit my head on my pillow, my head instead collided with my dresser. Once the pain had subsided from both sources, I sat up to find myself leaning against my closet door with my brother staring wide-eyed at me from his bed (we shared at room at the time). I asked him if he was fine, and he responded by informing me that he had woke to a loud bang and I realized he must of heard my head slam against the dresser. I told him everything was fine and that I had just got up to go to the restroom and had tripped and hit my head. I asked my mother the next morning if she noticed anything strange the night before or if she had any weird dreams. She responded by telling me that she had a short dream where she was in a dark-room where she heard some screaming that sounded like mine.
He didn't visit me again at all for the next few years.
Once again, he visited me again, this time around Christmas of last year. I was at my dad's this time though. Me and my brother share a bed at my dad's because he isn't the richest guy around. I awoke in the middle of the night because I swore I heard a noise in the kitchen. I turned and started to shake my brother as to wake him up; he didn't. I kept shaking him until I realized that he wasn't breathing. I started to get up to find my Dad and get his help when I saw him in the doorway. As he made his way towards me, he spoke again.
"This is not his fate."
I cowered against the wall as he went through his normal routine. I awoke to a devastating pain in my throat and to find that I was sitting up against the wall like I had in my...dream?
The adjacent week when we were at my dad's once again; he visited. I was disturbed by another noise in the kitchen, I knew this time who it was. I shook my brother just to see if he would wake up, and to my surprise he did. I told him that I heard a noise in the kitchen and that I was going to go check it out and I wanted him to remain inside the room. I walked out of the room and into the kitchen, Death was facing the other way.
"You and me are not much different," he said in his unique way.
He let his void of a scythe hover towards me, "cut it, I want to observe."
He turned and watched as I held the scythe to my throat, I cut it and fell to the ground, blood pouring from the wound on my throat. He came over and searched my body once more; but this time, he found it. He pulled a misty...thing...from chest and looked it over.
"You do understand," he said with a more human voice...one of...discovery...of something unexpected, "I can't wait."
He kissed it; or whatever you would call a skull holding a misty thing up to its mouth and blowing slightly into it. He placed it in my hand and I watched as the mist flowed through my arm and back into my center-being. He faded away slowly as my consciousness did the same.
I was woken up by brother; he was shaking me violently. I looked at him curiously, asking him what was wrong. He asked me if I was okay. I looked around and realized that I was laying in the middle of a dark kitchen-floor. I told him I was fine and got up. He asked if I discovered what the noise was, I told him it was just something shifting in the dish-washer. He was satisfied with this explanation and we returned to our bed and he fell quickly back asleep. I stayed awake staring at the wall, pondering what the Pale Rider had meant.
He hasn't visited me since.
Submitted April 21, 2015 at 08:32AM by I_Swear_Officer http://ift.tt/1J4StrD nosleep
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