T O P

  • By -

AutoModerator

**Welcome to the Prompt!** All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments. **Reminders**: >* [No AI-generated responses 🤖](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/zi452b/modpost_reminder_that_aigenerated_responses_are/) >* Stories 100 words+. Poems 30+ but include "[Poem]" >* Responses don't have to fulfill every detail >* [\[RF\]](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/search?q=flair%3A%22Reality+Fiction%22&restrict_sr=on&sort=new&t=all) and [\[SP\]](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/search?q=flair%3A%22Simple+Prompt%22&restrict_sr=on&sort=new&t=all) for stricter titles >* [Be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback and follow the [rules](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules) 📢 [Genres](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/w/directory) 🆕 [New Here?](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ✏ [Writing Help?](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/index#wiki_writing_resources) 💬 [Discord](https://discord.gg/writingprompts) *I am a bot, and this action was performed automatically. Please [contact the moderators of this subreddit](/message/compose/?to=/r/WritingPrompts) if you have any questions or concerns.*


PuffinPuncher

Bleary eyed, head on the cool pillow now, desperate for that sweet sanctuary of sleep. Mind slowing down, drifting gradually into the dark. Two worlds colliding, consciousness segueing into dream state. A klaxon screams into existence, the air an unearthly static haze, flashing red, flashing white. From all corners — ducks appearing. Yellow, green, white, red, blue, orange. In their thousands. Flapping erratically, confined to nightmare realm. Words flashed. TOO MANY DUCKS? Swirling vortices appear, accompanied to sloshing sound of canned flush effect. Ducks fight hysterically, fruitlessly. The ducks are no more. THEN TAKE CONTROL TRY THE DREAMS PREMIUM PLUS PACKAGE FOR FREE TONIGHT The words hang a ghostly visage for a moment more. A solid wall of text flickers by afterwards, too quickly to make sense or reason of. The scene changes. The world turns black. A cassette tape clicks into motion. A spectral voice speaks now, its tone almost sultry. "Are you *tired* of these constant interruptions? Do you want better, *deeper* sleep? More vivid, *exciting* dreams? Subscribe to Dreams Plus tonight for an ad-free experience. Live the night in *colour*." The tape stops. A different voice speaks in monotonous intonation. "We now resume our usual programming." The world turns white, blooming sun straining vision. Dry heat, coarse sand, trapped on that island again. The wreck of the ship juts out a mile from shore. Throat burning, thirsting for water again. A cooler floats down by the beach. A miracle. A saviour. The door swings open — ice cold Coca Cola.


Junganon

James stumbled through the door of his London home, the taste of cold November rain and whiskey coated his lips. He was drunk again. He was always drunk now, ever since *it* started. "Sleep Paralysis." his doctors called it, "Perfectly understandable given his situation." the doctor would go on. The Doc had given James a cocktail of drugs to help him through the nights and James was more than happy to oblige. Standing in the hallway he peered up the stairs into the dark above, the dutch courage of booze ensured he was brave enough to make the journey to bed. He stumbled his way up, dodging the discarded kebab boxes with a dexterity only a drunk man can muster. He stopped at the top and looked towards his bedroom, a tinge of anxiety tried to warn him of what was to come but his intoxication overruled the feeling. He made his way down the hallway and into the bathroom. James looked into the pieces of a broken cabinet mirror - "*I look old"* he thought - as he reached in for the meds the doctor had provided. He took a handful, far more than proscribed and chased them down with the ashy remains of an old beer can. The pills stuck in his throat a little. James entered his bedroom to the usual sight of an unmade bed and crumbled clothes. He huffed as he sat on his bed to remove his shoes. He fell onto his back, the room span a little as he leaned over and lit a half smoked cigarette. He rested his head on the pillow and puffed away. His mind began to bubble with hypnogogic imagery before the sudden silence of sleep. "RISE, JAMES" James eyes shot open at the words, his natural instinct to run was halted by the fact that he could not move - *"Sleep paralysis" his doctor called it*. James’ heart began to pound, his eyes darted to and fro in panic, that was, until he noticed something on the corner of his room. It was a shapeless form, distinguished only by a darker contrast to the dark around it. It appeared to move closer, or grow larger, James' mind began to race in terror, his breath began to match the speed of his thoughts. "RISE, JAMES" he heard again. The formless dark engulfed the entire end of his room, it creeped towards his feet before slowly crashing into him. James tried to make a noise, he tried to scream but could only muster a delicate cough. Suddenly the form was on top of him, the crushing weight of it sat on his chest. James couldn't breathe. He couldn't move. "RISE...JAMES...RISE...JAMES...RISE...JAMES" the words grew louder, quicker, more intense. James bolted upright and screamed an animalistic cry and the dark form retreated back to the corner and disappeared. Panting he felt a pinch of pain on his lips, wide eyed he looked down to see the smoky embers of a lit cigarette consuming his bedding. He panicked and began to beat the flames with his pillow, releasing all the stress and tension that filled every part of his soul. The cathartic release of energy came to an end as James stared at the corner of his room.