“Sometimes the only way to forget everything is to go to sleep.” Grandma told me, her voice soft and whispery. She pushed a lock of chocolate brown hair off my forehead.

“Where is sleep?” I asked, my curious eyes as wide as a doe.

She smiled softly. “A place where dreams come true.”

———-

I lay in bed, my body unable to stop vigorously shaking. It isn’t cold, quite the opposite. Sticky sweat is running down my forehead. I push the sheets off of me and lay there, trying to catch my breath.

If only grandma prepared me for this.

Sleep is supposed to be a place where dreams come true.

So why is it whenever I visit the shadows haunt me?

The shadows of past, present, and future.

Like that one story I vaguely remember from childhood. Something about the ghosts, or were they spirits, of time? I’m not sure.

I gasp for breath and wipe the sweat off my forehead with my arm.

I wonder if the doctors sell a cure for nightmares. Maybe a medicine that will give me dreams of unicorns and sparkles. Memories of good days. Peaceful days. Childhood.

Or maybe that would hurt more.

I’m not sure.

I’m never sure anymore.

Because I never get anything right.

I groan and sit up in bed, pulling my legs over the side and willing for them to hold me up.

I stand.

It has to be almost midnight, I can still see the moon softly flooding through the curtains.

So what am I supposed to do now, not sleep?

That idea sounds pretty good.

I slump back into the bed.

Maybe grandma was wrong.

Maybe dreams are supposed to haunt us, teach us lessons the hard way.

But I’ve already learned this lesson in the real world.

So why do they keep reminding me?

I’d give up anything to be able to remove the aching sensation that lingers in my heart. The one that makes it feel like it’s struggling to beat. I’d give up anything to not have my lungs feel like their bursting inside of me after so many nights in a puddle of helplessness.

So why won’t they give me a chance?

Grandma never prepared me for this.

What was I supposed to do when the land of dreams failed?

I think of him every minute. Will he talk to me today? Finally ask the question? Will he admit his feelings? _I need to stop thinking! _ Sometimes the only way to really forget Everything is to go to sleep, But I can’t; I can’t sleep. His face and eyes poison my mind, Causing it to race and never settle down. Sleep is like wood and my thoughts are like a raging fire; Sleep will not come near, In fear. I need to stop thinking… _Of him. _

"I've come to a conclusion." Cassie glances downward at her bare toes hidden in the sand. "What might that be?" Edward's tone is quizzical with a hint of amusement, but Cassie isn't trying to amuse him - for once. "I think," She doesn't quite know how to say it. "I think, sometimes, the only way to really forget everything is to go to sleep." Edward doesn't answer for a moment, seemingly pondering Cassie's conclusion. "Sometimes," Edward turns his attention away from the breaking waves and fixes his gaze on Cassie. "Other times, the things we want to forget appear in our dreams permeating our subconscious." "I suppose," was all Cassie could bring herself to say. Her toes were cold, despite being buried in the sand. Apparently, it didn't make for a very warm blanket.
"Cassie," The hint of amusement in Edward's voice is gone now. "Maybe I'm not supposed to ask, but what are you trying to forget?" Cassie would rather not reply. She would rather bury her whole body in the cool sand, suffocating herself, than give Edward an answer. "I shouldn't have asked." Edward turns his face back towards the sea. Cassie studies Edward through her peripheral version. She notices the way his eyes match the color of the moonlight sky above them. She watches as his chocolate-colored hair moves with the wind. Edward turns his head towards her, catching her eye before she could look away. "Where you staring at me?" The hint of amusement is back. "I might have been," this is a question Cassie can answer. Edward grins widely. Cassie notices, for the first time, the red color in his cheeks. She wonders whether or not it's from the cold.

“‘Sometimes the only way to really forget everything is to go to sleep. Only then I might be able to see you again, back in that wonderful, sweet dream.’ After he wrote that, he was found dead in Void Dream’s containment unit the ensuing morning; a suicide, if you will**.**” He states, rapping the clipboard with his pen; his tone nor posture has not faltered throughout this whole presentation, not even once. The unfortunate listeners watch with mesmerized silence and horror. “How does this incident relate to what I’ve taught? It’s to report any abnormal behavior of coworkers immediately to the coworker’s Sephirah. If perhaps Vince’s coworkers had done this, his unfortunate death could’ve been prevented. I assume this is clear?” The listeners all nod half-enthusiastically, keeping still. The presenter smiles back, pleased. “In that case, you all are free to go. This has been the 127th Training Team presentation, thank you for your time.” He bows.

“Sometimes the only way to forget everything is to go to sleep, forget and get away from things such as this,” Greg wheezed, his frightened laugh coming in sharp exhales. “This—this is just a dream. I’m back home, in my bed, and I just have to go to sleep in this dream to wake up, right?”

He laid against the cool, black colored grass and closed his eyes. The foul scent of decay covering the trees like deathly sap; the sky a dark, foggy green with two bright shining orbs extending no effort to brighten anything.

“Yeah, that’s it.”

❥ ❥ ❥

THE BITE OF ROSES ~ A Vampyre x Mortal Love Story

Greg grimaced, looking at the book’s title in his hand. “What the actual hell,” he muttered, shoving the book back on the cluttered shelf where he found it, “No wonder it’s in a Goodwill. That shit’s cringy. After fucking Twilight took over the paranormal romance world, I can’t find nothing good.” He sighed. “I wish I was born in an earlier time period,” but then he remembered what happened to people like him earlier, “—you know what, nevermind.”

The young man, who was almost twenty and standing at a startling…5 foot 6, was trying to find a cheap lamp that he could use for midnight studies. So far he had found nothing. Nothing in this Goodwill. Greg really didn’t want to go to the “real” stores; they were always so expensive.

Greg looked around once more, and there it was! In a tiny tucked in corner, there was a old style lamp that had a little metal arch that connected the light bulb to the pad holding it upwards. He would have to find a covering for it so it wouldn’t be too bright, but other than that, Greg had finally accomplished his last task on his college room list.

Now, well next week, was the time for the college-ing.

Greg left shortly after purchasing the lamp—the nice old lady at the register had wrapped his lamp in some paper and put it in a bag for him, how lucky was he that day?!—and drove to his apartment complex near the college he would be studying at.

“Annoying roommate, but good price,” Greg muttered to himself absently while watching a car make a ridiculous (and illegal) u-turn on the highway, “luck is on my side this month! Finally!”

The light turned green and Greg started to drive forward, a rare happy smile on his lips and a twinkle in his brown eyes.

“Nothing will or can ruin this.”

❥ ❥ ❥

Greg, panicked and whimpering, opened his eyes, thinking he would see the nice, warm light of his cheap lamp shining on his face from his desk.

He did not.

“Oh god, oh god,” Greg shook his head and stood, “Alright, there is a chance that this may be real, but I will calm down. I. Will. Calm—“

A twig snapped, causing Greg to shriek and rush into a sprint through the thick, foggy forest.

The green sky lurched above him with it’s murky swirls.

The dark, snapping grass below him grabbed at his ankles.

The air felt too thick, too toxic.

There were eyes, many, many eyes watching him silently, waiting, waiting.

For some reason, Greg felt an awful, twisting pain in his stomach. This whole atmosphere was trying to kill him.

“Ugh.” Greg collapsed on the ground and closed his eyes. This was supposed to be a new life for him, not a another worse introduction with Death.

I guess he really was what his mother thought.

Greg relaxed as the ground below him began to sink and eat at the threads in his clothes. Nothing mattered anymore.

His one and only chance of new life had failed.

❥ ❥ ❥

Twila was on her third patrol for the night. Adorned in her gold and sliver armor and accompanied by Plunge, her sword, the vampyre was ready for anything that tried to attack her Emperor’s castle.

Twila looked around the Forest of Remorse and found a large, red looking stone. She narrowed her eyes and tilted her tall frame into a crouch, silent as she approached the peculiar stone. Then she saw it breathing, eyes shut on a brown, masculine face. It looked almost like a vampyre herself, but it wasn’t.

She pressed a sharp finger to its soft skin and watched grimly as a ball of red, crimson blood rose from the wound. The creature stirred at the disturbance but soon fell still once more.

Twila growled. Not again. Not another one of these—these things.

Her brother’s heart would not be broken for a second time.

❥ ❥ ❥

(I can’t take a break. When I do ideas overwhelm me. But I can read again and my brain won’t black out! 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️ Please critique me on this! I really like this story and the characters (some more in progress) I made—in the past two days— and I want to continue writing this. But I actually want it to be good. This is my first time writing it down and I don’t like the character of Greg, at ALL. So I would like some help on to make him a consistent and likable character.

Also, I have never been good at the world describing, though I have plenty of worlds made, or descriptions in general. So if you could help me with descriptions I would be most appreciative.

Thank you for reading and have a good day!)

Sometimes the only way to really forget everything is to go to sleep

That’s what I hope for But every time I dream It’s of the worries of my life And the sadness of my thoughts

I always dream of the hands of grief that won’t ever let me go I dream of the scream of anxiety that won’t give me relief The problems of my daily life bleeding into my dreams Constantly disturbing me when I’m supposed to be at peace

I can’t help but wish for a nightmare with monsters that don’t truly exist Because then when I wake up I’ll feel the fear of a monster that isn’t already consuming my mind A monster that isn’t already haunting me in my everyday life

Sometimes, the only way to really forget is to sleep. This is why the addict got high. She fucked guys for money. She wanted to forget it all. The family she didn’t have. The life she didn’t want.

Sometimes, the only way to really forget is to sleep. This is why the old man smoked. He didn’t have anything to lose. He didn’t have money, nah. He didn’t have a wife.

Sometimes, the only way to really forget is to sleep… This is why the wife stuck a needle in her wrist. forgot it all, until she woke up.

Sometimes, the only way to really forget is to sleep. And this is why I tried once. Not with a needle; with a knife. This is why I still do shit. Try to sleep it off.

But then I realized; No, sleeping won’t work. They weren’t talking about sleep. Not the kind you do every night.

Nah… haha. They were talking about the kind- Where you don’t wake up.

Sometimes the only way to really forget everything is to go to sleep.

Sometimes sleep is impossible.

Sometimes it’s two am and you’re on a bus home running off minus eight hours sleep and trying to forget but you just cannot sleep.

Not relate? Okay, maybe it’s a bit specific. But bear with me for a moment and picture this:

Peace. Silence. A chance to finally clear your mind after a busy weekend. You rest your head into the back of your seat, AirPods playing music just loud enough to block out the rest of the bus.

You think things over. Your failed attempts at writing, your crush, whether you take to many extracurriculars, if you’re missing out in life or not. All the things one thinks of when sleep deprived.

It’s chaotic, but it’s peaceful too. The noises of the world disappear as the street lights blur. You close your eyes and begin to drift…

Screams fill your ears. You look up, pulling out an air-pod. Four missed calls. Terrified something has happened and you’re moments from death, you shout to your friend three rows in front. Probably woke up the whole bus, but you’re worried, so it’s fine.

“Dylan asked me out!” The joyful reply comes bouncing back.

Obviously, you’re thrilled. You’ve heard about this boy all weekend and really, a date was long overdue. You talk with your friend about it, not at all annoyed, until they eventually settle down and continue texting the boy.

Peace returns and you press play on the music. For the first time in two days, you can relax…

Then the snoring starts. Quiet, muffled snoring is fine, but this! The power of each snore rattles the bus, overpowering your music and the chatter surrounding you. You press pause yet again and try to find out who it is. It’s not your first friend, she’s still texting Dylan.

Maybe it’s the boy next to you? He’s sound asleep, headphones on and head rested against your shoulder (you try not to move to wake him) but it doesn’t sound like it’s him. Who else could it be?

You lie back and try to ignore it, but it’s impossible.

After an infinity of listening to the infernal snoring, the bus makes its stop and a second friend, who sat behind you, gets off. The snoring disappears. Wow. You shared a room with that girl and didn’t know she snored so loudly? Mad world.

But she’s gone now, and the droopiness that welcomes sleep returns.

The boy next to you begins to stirr. You keeps the AirPods in and try not to pay attention. You two are friends, but maybe he won’t talk to you and will just go back to sleep.

As if.

He yawns and sits up, pulling the headphones off and putting them back into his bag. Oh no, please no. It’s not that you don’t like talking to him, but if he isn’t listening to music he won’t stop and you’ll never get to sleep.

“Hey,” he begins, pulling out his phone, “guess what happened me last night?”

And so begins the story of how his best friend told him she likes him the night before and how he is completely torn on what to do. Your advice is to sleep and think about it with a clear head. Like you wish you could. But he feels compelled (or completely misses your hints) to continue his story, showing you the messages. Apparently he doesn’t want to tell the others yet. So why do you need to know?

Finally, he finishes the story and the two of you start to talk about music, discovering you are listening to the same playlist. You put your AirPods back in, him his headphones, and dive back into a calm and welcoming world.

At the next stop you first friend comes over and you already know you won’t get to rest. She sits opposite you, still beaming, and asks you to wake up the boy next to you. Knowing he’s already awake, you tap his headphones and say ‘He asked her out. Good luck’ as a warning. You go to put your headphones back in, but no. According to her, you need to her the retelling of the story too.

It’s the exact same story, word for word.

Try as you might, sleep has been officially scared off and it won’t be several hours until you get to sleep. And then there’s school.

And spoiler alert: you sleep through your alarm and miss school.

Sometimes the only way to really forget everything is to go to sleep.

So that’s what I do.

I do it to forget the scars, to forget my dad, to forget my mom, to forget Levi. But most of all, to forget Rosa.

I miss her so much, but I also kind of hate her for leaving me, I know that makes me selfish and I know that she had to leave, but it still hurts. It hurts so badly.

Tonight I can’t fall asleep, and I know why. 5 years ago exactly, Rosa left me. I thought maybe she’d come back, but she never did. I was stupid.

Maybe I should just move on and forget about her, like she did.

Maybe I will….

But I can’t. No matter how hard I try, Rosa will always be a part of me, like it or not.

I wish you were here Rosa.

Sometimes the only way to really forget everything is to go to sleep

It’s true

Sometimes you can feel it Crawling At the base of your skull Reminding you Of your inherent wrongness

So then you do sleep

Cotton depths A fuzzy nothing A fuzzy everything Anything perhaps

When you awake You merely feel stale Perhaps that’s better Than feeling yourself rot Bit By Bit Piece By Piece Until you are jerked back To mundane reality To ok reality To getting by reality

Sometimes I want to stay like that forever Lying in bed Numb

I’m not depressed Really Often I’m quite happy But my thoughts don’t follow rules And so end rather abstract Rather suicidal

I don’t know It’s not like I’m addicted Or sad Or even feeling like it But I always do it

Always take Always bleed Always Always Hate myself for it

Sometimes the only way to really forget everything is to go to sleep But I’m an insomniac So sometimes I make a trade Forget all my problems Replace with new ones Ones of others concern

When sleeping is hopeless I wring out despair instead

And so I cut.