Tales of the Scarecrow

Déja Vu

[READ AT YOUR OWN RISK]

William woke up in the middle of the night with an uneasy feeling. The foggy window flashed blue hues as the thunder screamed and drips of rain whispered loudly on the roof of William's house. He stared at the digital clock sleeping soundly atop his small wooden cabinet, 12:02AM. The cold pamper of the wind was beginning to creep up on his legs, giving his body a tingling sensation.

He needed to use the bathroom.

He got up and trekked the ever familiar path. Creaking sounds and loud drops of rain voiced out and the urge of unleashing the raging power within was strong enough to make him struggle steps on his not-so-far journey towards the toilet. Like a warrior, he braved up enough courage and walked strong until he reached his destination. Refreshed. He walked to the bathroom mirror and cleansed his stained hands.

Then, what he saw behind sent chills down his spine. The hairs on his body lifted up to their highest. He was alone in his house, but their was a man in a bloodstained hood standing behind him in the mirror, emanating the strong aura of death. He turned around slowly as the evil cackle cloaked the surroundings. He tried to run but the door was closed shut. The hooded man screeched his knife on the wall as he walked slowly towards William. A scream, slit, and gushing blood. William fell to the ground; bloodied and in pain. And evil laughter was the last thing he heard before he slowly fell deep into the abyss.

William woke up in sweat. The tragedy he just went through level was off the charts. He grasped his chest and touched his neck, he was alive. It was nothing more than a hellish nightmare. He stared at the digital clock sleeping soundly atop his small wooden cabinet, 12:02AM. The rain was no more audible yet the cold still crept under his blanket, leaving him in an urgent feeling; the call of nature.

The wee hours was driving him awake once again.

He mustered courage and dismissed the deja vu feeling as nothing more than a silly dream that occasionally happens to people due to stress and exhaustion. Again, he walked towards the bathroom at a hurried pace. He checked every nook and cranny to spot out for the envisioned psychopath he saw in his dream. Nothing. He laughed at himself for being such a sissy. Afterwards, he went back at confidently to his room.

Just as he was about to take one more turn towards his bedroom, he saw what was an eerie writing written with blood on the door.

"BEHIND YOU..."

His legs shook and the same evil laughter carrying the stench of death echoed from behind. He turned around. As the face of the psychopath neared to a few inches towards his, he screamed. And a sudden slice on his throat threw him back in the darkness.

William woke up in heavier sweat. The night now at its quietest. He stared at the digital clock sleeping soundly atop his small wooden cabinet, 12:02AM. The same minute in the witching hour. He didn't care about going to the bathroom anymore. Fear has disrupted his thoughts and corrupted his sanity. He remained alert, scanning every corner on his room. Maybe he was seeing precognitions, he thought to himself.

Then, droplets started tapping at the edge of his bed. His body once more shook. He slowly raised his head up and screamed at the next thing he saw. A dead woman crawled in a grotesque manner in his bedroom ceiling. With distorted claws, it jumped violently at him and slowly ripped him apart. His own blood washed up on his face as he screamed and he slowly once again fell to the never ending darkness.

William woke up, sweating and drowned in tears. He heard a familiar concerned voice calming him down on the right side of his bed; his mother.

"What's wrong? What happened?" His mother gently caressed his forehead.

William could do nothing but cry in the arms of his ever loving mother. He didn't speak a word. His throat was barricaded.

"Don't worry. It's going to be alright. I'm right here." The soothing voice of his mother calmed him down.

Finally, he's in the hands of safety and care. The reoccurring nightmare has finally gone away. He remembered the gentle stroke of his mother's hands as it ran like waves from the ocean to the shore on his hair. He remembered her calming voice. He remembered her last words. And then, his head felt a sudden realization. Something was wrong. His mother was already long dead and he was living alone on his house. A chuckle. His heart began to pump faster, sweat started building quicker, and his body shook from the horror of fear. Déja vu.

William woke up.