Ryan woke with a start in the middle of the night. There was a strange buzzing noise  coming from beside his bed. He rolled over  and picked up the phone. The screen was  flashing on and off so fast that he couldn't  make out what it was showing. A face? Yes, a strange face. Man? Goat? Goat-man?  

        Then, in the flashing light, something  moved on the top of the cupboard and his  heart jerked with shock. A dark shape. A dark, dark shape, darker than the night.   There.   Gone.   There.   Gone.  

        He shot backwards and dropped the phone in terror. The light stopped flashing, leaving  him in total darkness. There was a noise like  the flapping of wings and a blast of cold air blew across his face. Ryan froze.  

        Silence.  

        No sound of wings.  

        Silence.  

        Just the knocking of his heart.  

        Silence.  

        Finally he reached out for the light next to  his bed. It flashed on and he looked round.  Nothing. No dark shape. Nothing.  

        And on the top of the cupboard just a pile  of magazines and the black and white floppy  hat his dad had bought him at a football match. By the side of the bed, the phone lay on the floor where he'd put it before he went to sleep. No flashing light. No strange face on the screen.  

        He for a while with the light on.  Nothing. Everything perfectly normal. He  switched off the light.  

        As he slipped back into sleep, the dream  began.  

        Someone had stolen his phone. He tracked down the thief to on old hut near a river.  There was a terrible row and he lost hi temper and picked up a hammer. Blood and bits of bone flew through the air and splashed  all over him as he smashed the hammer down onto the thief's head.

        Ryan woke up with a jolt to feel his heart juddering and his body drenched in sweat.  

        The door burst open and he was blinded as  the bedroom light flashed on. He blinked and  saw his mum standing by his bed.  

        "Ryan, what is it?" she said. "You were screaming the house down."  

        "I was having a nightmare."  

        "What was it, love? Tell me."  

        "I can't remember. It was just horrible."  

        "Well, it's over now. Try to get to sleep  again."  

        He lay back down and she tucked him in  and gave him a kiss on his cheek the she  used to when he was a little kid. It was good  to feel his mum's love again. But the instant  she went out and closed the door, the horror  came back. He'd said he couldn't remember  the dream. But that was a lie. He could  remember everything - the hammer, the blood,  the bone. And, most terrible of all, he could remember the face of the person he had beaten to death.  

        It was Colin.  





‍