I woke up in the dark knowing exactly what I needed to do. It came to me while I slept; in the dreams. The dream showed me how to end this horrible torment.
It started with me at the bottom of some stairs with a massive headache. Standing, I realize that unlike my other dreams, I can control my actions in this one. Reaching up, I rub my forehead in an effort to get rid of the pain, only to find a surgical knife deeply embedded into my skull. When my fingers brush it I'm hit with a shock of pain that only serves to increase my pain.
A voice next to me tells me to go up the stairs and when I look I see myself standing nearby.
"Who are you?", I have to ask though I know the answer.
"I am you and you are me." At this point I begin to hate cryptic spirits.
"I can see that. How do I become me again?"
"You are you as you've always been, and you are also me as you've always been."
"What are you called?"
"I go by many names, William S., Mr. Giggles, William A., and now Ben."
"You killed all these kids? You're sick."
"You killed them. I killed them. We killed them. You'll kill more as you live. You're just like me and you always will be, unless . . . you go up there."
I decide that I don't want to be a raving psychotic, so I begin to climb the stairs. The thing that looks like me follows me as I climb. I feel sickened by the thought that I could be like this thing.
"The only way for me to leave you is through him. You must put him in his rightful space." My copy’s monotone voice does nothing to calm me down.
Upon reaching the top I see the bones of a young child curled in the corner. I know it's Oliver’s bones. I can feel that they are.
"Why is he here?", my confusion very evident.
"He never got out and was never found. Neither was I. How ever you can find him, you can put him where he belongs."
"How do I find him?"
"You can open the door. Find him and bring him to the well. Then there will be 100 children in that well, my goal; my salvation. The only way for me to go."
When I open the door I find myself in my bathroom, staring in to my mirror. My reflection is cracked down the middle; one half being me and the other being William. I attempt to clean off the window but the image doesn't fade.
"No. No! I won't be you. I'm nothing like you."
"Our blood is the same, as is our lust. We crave the smell of a recent kill and search for that perfect hunt. You can not understand until you've tasted the fear. When you do, the part of you that's me will ignite, and you'll be unstoppable. There's no avoiding it . . . unless . . . he needs to go to the well, now." The half of me spoke with my voice; I could feel my lips moving.
Now I'm awake and I know where Oliver is, and how to end this all. I must get to the bones and put them in the well. The torment will end when I do . . . the horror will cease.
It started with me at the bottom of some stairs with a massive headache. Standing, I realize that unlike my other dreams, I can control my actions in this one. Reaching up, I rub my forehead in an effort to get rid of the pain, only to find a surgical knife deeply embedded into my skull. When my fingers brush it I'm hit with a shock of pain that only serves to increase my pain.
A voice next to me tells me to go up the stairs and when I look I see myself standing nearby.
"Who are you?", I have to ask though I know the answer.
"I am you and you are me." At this point I begin to hate cryptic spirits.
"I can see that. How do I become me again?"
"You are you as you've always been, and you are also me as you've always been."
"What are you called?"
"I go by many names, William S., Mr. Giggles, William A., and now Ben."
"You killed all these kids? You're sick."
"You killed them. I killed them. We killed them. You'll kill more as you live. You're just like me and you always will be, unless . . . you go up there."
I decide that I don't want to be a raving psychotic, so I begin to climb the stairs. The thing that looks like me follows me as I climb. I feel sickened by the thought that I could be like this thing.
"The only way for me to leave you is through him. You must put him in his rightful space." My copy’s monotone voice does nothing to calm me down.
Upon reaching the top I see the bones of a young child curled in the corner. I know it's Oliver’s bones. I can feel that they are.
"Why is he here?", my confusion very evident.
"He never got out and was never found. Neither was I. How ever you can find him, you can put him where he belongs."
"How do I find him?"
"You can open the door. Find him and bring him to the well. Then there will be 100 children in that well, my goal; my salvation. The only way for me to go."
When I open the door I find myself in my bathroom, staring in to my mirror. My reflection is cracked down the middle; one half being me and the other being William. I attempt to clean off the window but the image doesn't fade.
"No. No! I won't be you. I'm nothing like you."
"Our blood is the same, as is our lust. We crave the smell of a recent kill and search for that perfect hunt. You can not understand until you've tasted the fear. When you do, the part of you that's me will ignite, and you'll be unstoppable. There's no avoiding it . . . unless . . . he needs to go to the well, now." The half of me spoke with my voice; I could feel my lips moving.
Now I'm awake and I know where Oliver is, and how to end this all. I must get to the bones and put them in the well. The torment will end when I do . . . the horror will cease.
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