Derek Kelley

I have wanted to write since I was a child but I didn’t have the confidence to try. I’m in my thirties now and I have realized life is too short not to follow your passions.

Derek Kelley

I have wanted to write since I was a child but I didn’t have the confidence to try. I’m in my thirties now and I have realized life is too short not to follow your passions.

The realm of dream eaters.Winner - 3rd

Derek Kelley

4 min read

There is a realm unknown to most; not exactly unknown, people have been there but did not know. This realm is known as “the realm of dream eaters” we’ve all visited from time to time and we call our visits “nightmares”. When the dream eaters feed, our dreams turn to nightmares. The “eaters”, as I’ll refer to them, turn our dreams into our worst fears because they feed upon fear. I am documenting my experiences with the eaters to hopefully help others who are being tormented by these things. It all started three years ago; I woke from a nightmare covered in sweat and screaming “please, someone help!” I had been buried alive in a wooden casket, as you may have guessed I am claustrophobic. A few nights later I woke swiping at my arms; I had thrown the blankets on the floor, I was breathing heavily and scanning the bed for spiders. These patterns continued on and off with the same theme; I was having nightmares containing my phobias. I had written these nightmares off as just that “nightmares”. I visited a sleep therapist; a psychiatrist; I had CT scans and I was told nothing was wrong. I was at my wits end and decided to try something radical; I visited a new age practitioner. Her name was Joanie, although she liked to be called Moonbeam. She suggested a vision quest; a walk in my thoughts while remaining awake, what happened next changed me completely. Upon beginning my vision quests I struggled to do anything more than daydream for a few minuets. As we progressed I was able to see images more clearly; I was able to sustain the vision quest for longer periods, I was able to achieve a wake/sleep state. At first my visions were happy, I suppose the vision state wasn’t something the eaters were accustomed to feeding upon. After a few vision quests, things began to change. I started noticing shadowy figures hovering just outside my mind’s eye. The more vision quests I took, the more adept the eaters became at invading. As the eaters became more at home in my vision quests, they also began to move from the fringes of my visions and into the landscape. One vision in particular was especially terrifying; I visited a small village with thatched roofs and a little trading center. I went into the trading center to browse the wares; I was curious what the villagers were selling. I saw baked goods; a blacksmith making all manner of things, I stopped at a shop selling woven linens. A blanket had caught my eye, the shop keeper turned to greet me, that’s when I met the eaters face to face. The eater turned to me; my body froze; my mind raced; I wanted to look away, I wanted to run, but I was stuck in place. The sky turned dark, I was surrounded by people crushing in on me; on all sides they pressed in against me; my breathing became labored; I struggled to move an inch. I looked up and the eater was far away from me; I was falling to the ground, the crowd was about to trample me, then I woke to moonbeam chanting something and wafting sage over me. Moonbeam looked startled; beads of sweat running down her face. She asked what I saw, I described the vision quest and her face turned from startled to concerned. Moonbeam talked about a group of Celts from Northern Ireland who told of a similar entity; and that’s when I first heard the name “dream eaters”. According to moonbeam the eaters attach themselves to those with active minds. I have always been imaginative; I have always been creative, I have also struggled with phobias and irrational fears. All of these things together created a smorgasbord for the eaters. I felt there was nothing I could do; I thought I would be haunted by eaters the rest of my life. Moonbeam explained that the eaters like to feed unseen; that’s why they exchange dreams for nightmares, they let the nightmares distract you while they feed. The mistake the eaters made was invading my vision quest; because I remained awake while dreaming, I was conscious of the eaters presence. Moonbeam theorized that the eaters didn’t know the difference between a dream and a vision quest, this would be my way to rid myself of this dream parasite. Moonbeam prepared for my next quest; sage; crystals; chants; and a number of other items of which I had no idea what they were. I settled in and began my quest; I arrived at the village once more, I made my way to the trade square. Movement began to stir in the shadows; I continued to walk toward the square, the shadows seemed to be closing in around me. I refused to give in to fear; darkness enveloped me and all I could see was the square; the village had disappeared; the sky turned black; the ground was crawling; I kept my eyes on the square, not wanting to know what stirred beneath my feet. I moved into the square; a crowd formed; the darkness moved closer; I felt things crawling up my legs. I struggled to stay sane; I felt as if I was walking in quicksand, the crowd now pressing in around me. I mercifully reached the trader selling linens; I swallowed hard; waiting for the eater to turn and face me; the figure turned; I fought to keep my fears at bay, I couldn’t let my fears tear me away from the eater. The crowd was so thick I couldn’t breath; darkness had closed in and only the eater was visible; hairy legs now crept onto my face. I screamed “show me your face! I don’t fear you!” The eater lowered its hood and I saw my face; I was the creator of my fears; I was the eater.

Horror

I’ll do anything.Top 10

The bearded storyteller

4 min read

“We are not interested in publishing your work at this time” not again;Carl’s heart sank, his shoulders slumped. “Your work lacks passion, the characters are hollow; they feel generic.” Carl dropped the rejection letter and slid down in his chair, agony creeped up his throat “why?! Why can’t I do this?!” Carl said as his head dropped back; he gazed at the ceiling, veins bulged around his eyes as tears began to fall. This wasn’t Carl’s first rejection, Carl had grown all too familiar with these feelings of despair; the feeling that he just didn’t have the talent to put his ideas to paper. Desperation gripped Carl’s body “I will show them! I will be great! They will love my writing! The whole world will know Carl Willard!” Carl said through clenched teeth, white knuckles strangling the arms of his chair. “I’ll give them exactly what they want!” He thought as he sat up, eyes wildly looking about the room. “Come on Rufus! It’s cold, just find a place to go!” A women’s voice wafted through the late night air into Carl’s apartment. Carl stood slowly and sneaked over to the window as though the lady might see him. He peered through the blinds and saw a woman across the street, she had a small dog. Carl’s eyes gleamed and a sinister thought filled his mind “they want real characters do they? Congratulations miss, you’re going to be a star!” As Carl finished this sentence he raised his hands and accentuated “star”. Carl spent the next few weeks watching The woman’s house, studying her routine. “Mon-fri, leaves at 7am returns at 5pm; walks the dog immediately and then again at 10pm, lights out at 11pm. Sat-Sun varies but usually walks the dog at 8am, 12pm, 5pm, 10pm. Punctual, I like that.” Carl mumbled to himself as he typed her out schedule. “Cold weather we’ve been having lately.” Carl said as he passed the women. “Too cold! And Rufus loves taking his time” She said, motioning at the dog. “Rufus, what a great name! What breed is Rufus?” Carl asked, smiling as he approached the woman. “He’s a mutt, I guess you could say. I rescued him from the pound.” She said as she pulled her hood tight around her face against the cold night air. Carl looked around at the empty streets, snow falling steadily; a gust wind suddenly whipped snow in the women’s face blowing her hood backward. She closed her eyes and turned; she heard heavy footsteps through the howling wind and suddenly a crushing pain on the back of her head. “Don’t struggle, this is your big moment! You’re going to be famous!” A man’s voice echoed in her ears as she opened her eyes. She blinked at the hazy images; her head throbbing in pain, dizzy, she sat up against the wall. “You can’t get anymore real than this” The man’s voice whispered in her ear. “They want a story with emotion; with feeling, they want real characters? Well they’re going to get it” The voice had turned dark with hatred and a hint of joy. “How are we doing today?” The man’s voice woke her, he sounded happy as though she was a guest at a bnb. She opened her eyes to see the face of the man, he looked familiar but her memories were blurry still. “Are you hungry?” He asked sadistically. “I need you to eat, I need you alive until the last chapter” He said as though he was asking her to run an errand. “The book is almost finished now” he said with a smile “your big moment is almost at hand” He stretched his arms out toward her and then parted them outward to his sides. “I must hurry” he remarked calmly “I’ve noticed police officers combing your building across the street.” He peered through the blinds “I guess after a few weeks missing... no time, I must keep writing” his voice suddenly changed, as if someone had interrupted him and scolded him to continue his work. Carl placed his trembling fingers on the blinds “no one, good very good!” Carl heaved the body wrapped in blankets and double bagged in large, black trash bags, over his shoulder. He made his way down stairs and out into the dark, cold night. He placed the body in the back seat and drove off into the evening. “We are excited to inform you that we are going to publish your manuscript” Carl’s eyes filled with tears, hands trembling as he read on “your writing is filled with emotions” yes, yes he thought “and your characters are real, authentic, they grabbed us and drew us in right away.” Carl’s eyes widened with maniacal glee “I’ve done it” He growled through his teeth “I showed those bastards what I can do” Suddenly a knock at the door broke Carl’s deranged celebration. “Who could that be?” He thought as he scanned the room; his eyes stopped and scanned back a few feet “You! No, no, no I got rid of you!” His voice grumbling and cracking “you’re not here” He said, trembling all over “you’re dead” He said as he blinked his eyes rapidly “take a deep breath” Carl tried to breath deep. BANG, BANG, BANG on the door once again but louder this time “open up, this is the police!” Carl opened his eyes and looked “Aggghhh!” He let out a hair raising scream as he saw the girl, inches from his face; dried blood matted her hair together, her eyes dark and sunken. Suddenly the door flew open, crashing against the wall “help me!” Carl squealed “get her off of me, please!” His voice strained in desperation. “Calm down down, sir!” The police officers commanded as they struggled to restrain Carl. The body of the girl still lay lifeless in the corner. “You’re under arrest!” Carl smiled as they loaded him into the police car.

Kindness.

The bearded storyteller

4 min read