When Memories Become Nightmares...A Written Series from The Akua Projects by Rakia Ari

 

When Memories Become Nightmares...

It will have been ten long years since he left, this month. And as every year previous, he haunts my dreams, summoning me here to this dark place. A place I’ve only ever seen in the deepest sleep, yet it feels as real as the calloused palm of my hand. The air is thick with a chilling mist, clinging to the skeletal branches of ancient, gnarled trees that claw at a perpetually grey sky.

Tonight, the summons felt particularly insistent, pulling me from the edges of a fitful sleep. I stand at the edge of a withered field, the dry stalks rustling with an unseen breeze, and before me, in the oppressive gloom, looms a massive, dark figure. It’s him. Or rather, a twisted, monstrous version of him, carved from shadow and stone, with eyes that glow with a malevolent crimson light. It sits on a throne of twisted roots and sorrow, its form both familiar and utterly terrifying. He’s waiting for me. He always is.

My breath hitches, a cold knot tightening in my stomach. I want to turn, to run, to scream until my throat is raw and the dream shatters into oblivion. But I can't. A silent, invisible tether pulls me forward, one small, hesitant step after another, across the whispering field towards the looming terror. Every rustle of the dry grass, every creak of the ancient trees, sounds like a whisper of his name, a reminder of the decade of absence that has warped him into this nightmare.

"You came," a voice rumbles, not from the stone figure, but from deep within my own mind, a voice that once held such warmth, now a chilling echo. "You always do."

My voice is a fragile thing, barely a whisper. "What do you want?"

The glowing eyes narrow, and a shadow that isn't quite a smile plays on its stone lips. "To remember," it rumbles. "And to remind you."

And I know, with a dread certainty, that this night, like all the others for ten long years, the memories will begin. Not the sweet, cherished ones, but the sharp, painful fragments, relived and twisted until they are not just memories, but nightmares I must endure until the sun, real or imagined, finally breaks the spell.