The Woman Who Silently Screams

A terrifying true series of my nightmares

She’s close to 12 feet tall — the woman. You can hardly tell by the way her limbs twist and contort. Her body wreathes and twitches like the branches of a willow. Her daunting eyes are like hollowed cavities of black that crater her leaden skin. Her lips hang low as if being pulled down by wires, and her jawline is unfurled past the ordinary peculiarities of a human. And when she screams…

I’m asleep again. I know I am. My body was buzzing, and my eyes danced in the back of my skull while I drifted into yet another hellish nightmare. This time, I was placed in a field surrounded by trees that had looked as though they had been burnt. I could smell death in the air while I sauntered towards the treeline.

Everything was dark. The sky was black with rolling gray clouds that prevented the moon from lighting my way. The grass was sticky and brown, and the trees wailed and lengthened toward the sky as if trying to reach for help. There will be no help. Most of the time, I am knowledgeable of being in one of my nightmares, and with that lie of assurance, I knew my mind wouldn’t allow an escape. I was at the mercy of my conscious; what a vicious misconception indeed.

Look, there are lights just beyond those trees!