Sleepless Nights
168 Horror, Mystery, Thriller, and Suspense Short Stories
by Tobias Wade
Former neuroscience researcher, born again horror writer. During my studies, it struck me as odd that I could learn so much about why humans behave without understanding the intricacies of human nature. It occurred to me that I learned more about the depths of human experience from reading Dostoyevsky than I ever had from my text books, and I was inspired to write.
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Excerpts:
1.
The spiders were everywhere. Hundreds—no thousands of gossamer spider webs holding up
her body like a marionette doll. Crawling across her face, through
her hair. When she opened her mouth, I saw more of them inside her, pulling the
threads to work her jaw. Her throat pulsed, and I knew more must be further
down to vibrate her vocal cords.
2.
“In response to the cave in—the news—the
story spinners—they all say 33 miners were trapped. And why wouldn’t they? 33
people came out of that mine. The miners were trapped 700 meters in the
ground—there was no way in or out. But the miners who come out—right when I
first pull them out—they all say the same thing.
"They say there were only 32 miners trapped. They
count and they count—every day – every few hours, so everybody taken care
of—and then one day they count again and there are 33.
They were a band of brothers—you can’t go through an ordeal
like that and not become family—and they stuck by each other. And when they got
out, they never said which one of them didn't belong.
3.
While I was alive I wouldn’t experience death, so there is no reason to
be afraid. When I was dead, I wouldn’t be capable of experiencing anything, so
fear still has no cause. That thought brought me great comfort as I felt the
last erratic struggle from my heart against the inevitable conclusion I
approached. It wasn’t until I was finally drifting off to sleep that a final
intrusive doubt bubbled in my brain:
What if it isn’t death which is to be feared? What if it is what lies
beyond?
And so troubled did I slip beyond mortal understanding, stepping into a
world as far forsaken by reason as I was now from life. I was still in the
hospital room, but the bustle of nurses and the beeping machines lost their
opacity as though I was mired in swiftly-descending dusk. It seemed as though
every sound was an echo of what it once was; every sight a reflection. With
each passing moment, the world was becoming less real.…
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