Death Camp Dreaming

This is a bit off topic for my blog but I hope you enjoy it all the same. The next post will be back on track I promise.

Ruby thrashed in cold sweat under a net of tangled sheets. Terrified panic smothered her, gripped her throat, squeezed it hard. She bolted upright and gasped heavily for cool, calming air. Sweet relief washed over her as she turned to check she hadn’t woken Jack. He was not in their bed. She strained to hear people whispering downstairs.

“Oh Rubyyyy” his eerie voice gently beckoned. “Pull on some clothes and come down, darling”.

Her husband’s cheery tone confused her, intrigued her, she slipped into a dress and floated over the stairs to meet him. He was absolutely filthy, like he had been buried alive wearing an old top hat and coat tails. He took her hand, and with a crooked smile and sweeping chivalry, ushered her to their backyard.

As soon as they stepped foot outside glaringly bright daylight stung her eyes and scorched her skin. Dazed, dizzy, she squinted to see a throng of zombies milling around them, shuffling in stoic unison toward a red brick building. Their low, droning voices a swarm of bees circling her head. She hesitated.

“Oh, don’t worry my dear”, he said, excitement pitched his voice high. “We’re going for a wonderful shower”, he threw his arm out with grandeur, encouraging Ruby to soak up the beautiful, warm atmosphere. Her stomach sank as she took it all in. The dust. The perfectly lined rows of barns and houses. The workers. The uniforms. The putrid stench of death.

Their clothes had vanished.

Her heart raced as turned to fight through the brain-dead crowd. Her house was far away behind them, a beacon in the dark shadow of night. She reached out for it, willing it to be closer. The tide held her steady, her husband grabbed her and violently tossed her into the building.

“Just a wonderful shower”. He sneered bringing his face a centimeter from her own. The Cheshire cat grin showed her a mouth half full of disgusting, rotting teeth. She recoiled and spun around, there were no showers! The crowd crammed in. Daylight filtered through holes in the roof. A door slammed shut. Ruby couldn’t move. The droning buzz escalated to shrill, gut-piercing screams, echoing off the concrete walls. The noise rose and rose, drilling in her head, it was sure to explode! She closed her eyes tight and screamed. Everything snapped.


The absolute calm and silence of a gentle, cool breeze stirred the midnight air. Bewildered, she slowly opened her eyes to find herself thigh deep in their swimming pool, her summer dress dancing gracefully in the glassy water. She stiffened at his presence.

“Hello, darling” her husband hissed, his breath on her neck shooting a shiver up her spine. She froze, barely breathing, waiting for him to make his move.

Cobra hands shot to her neck and ripped her clean out of the water. He forced her head under water while she thrashed and fought and tried desperately to plant her feet. She found the floor, and pushed herself up with all her strength but the concrete crumbled beneath her and fell away. Jack floated above the surface, a distorted, grimacing face, laughing at her with his hands firm on her throat. A scream welled in her lungs, she opened her mouth to let it out and everything went black.

Ruby thrashed in cold sweat under tangled sheets. Terrified panic smothered her, gripped her throat, squeezed it hard. She bolted upright and gasped heavily for cool, calming air. She turned to check she hadn’t woken her husband and found herself alone in her single bed. She breathed a heavy sigh of relief and smiled as she hit the snooze button.

Today, she would be a little late for school.


Post natal disturbance

I hope you had a nice chuckle at my last post  because you may find this one disturbing. Consider this fair warning.

Their nursery bathes in the soft glow of the late afternoon sun. I watch the impostors as they sleep, my shirt rigid from months of tears, my fragile mind crumbling in my dusty skull. They have sucked me dry and left me void, those greedy little leeches, how could they possibly be my sons?

I sit for an age, huddled in a shadowed corner, afraid to touch any of their belongings. They would be so mad at me if I touched their things.

Awake seconds apart, they begin to cry out for me. The noise of their shrill, demanding screams drills angrily into my head. I crawl into their closet for refuge and close the door behind me. Burying my head in my arms and rocking quietly in the darkness, I “shush” myself until calmness comes.

Time passes by, how much I can not say and the noise outside stops. I cautiously open the door and approach the boys’ cribs. They smile and laugh at me, tormenting me, I yell at them to stop being so awful, so evil. I fantasize about throwing them hard against the nearest wall and leaving them in a heap on the ground. Panic strikes, forcing my throat to burn and my head to spin. I turn and run for the phone to call my husband.

“It’s happening again” I whisper into the receiver. “I need to see a doctor!! I need some medication”.

“You know my family don’t believe in medicating” he told me. “Trust in our Lord and he will get you through”.

He swiftly hung up on me as he always does. The shun paralyses me. I let the receiver fall to the floor while reality slips away.

I sit soaking wet on cold tiles, hugging my knees as I stare at water dripping from my overfilled bathtub. I don’t need to peer over the edge to know what is in there. The house is so dark, so still and eerily quiet. I just sit in a catatonic state, waiting for someone to come and get me and take me away.