The light came from directly ahead, in a small room with a wooden door which stood wide open. To the left was a heavy iron bar door, leading down a seemingly endless concrete tunnel, it’s ceiling lined with weakly lit lightbulbs hanging haphazardly by the wires. The iron door itself was latched from the other side, but the bars were wide enough for a small arm to reach through.

The undead drew near, their godless sounds echoing off of the grimy walls. A choice had to be made, for the loud slapping of bare feet on the floor could be heard. They were just around the corner, and closing in.
A single shadow of the lead one sliding across the wall tauntingly.

As soon as her eyes adjusted to the light, she lowered her arm and glanced around. She stood in the doorway of a small room with a wooden door. To her immediate left, was a metal door with bars, much like the ones they had at jails and such. Delilah's eyes glanced down at the handle, seeing the keyhole. That meant it was locked from the other side. She lunged forward, grabbing a hold of the handle and pulling on it. When that didn't work, she pushed. Nothing.

Delilah groaned and hit the door, her panic rising. The sound of the dead bodies nearing only added to that panic. She jerked around and noticed the shadow of one of them dancing morbidly across the wall. Her heart felt like if it beat any harder, it would jump out of her chest. Delilah quickly turned back around and, out of pure desperation, attempted to fit her arm through the bars. Luckily, it fit through. A ray of hope sparked in Delilah, and she pressed her face against the bars, trying to see the lock on the other side, her hand feeling around blindly.

When she finally found it, she gasped in relief and quickly turned it. As soon as the 'click' sounded, she jerked her arm back through and yanked the door open. Rushing in, she slammed the door shut and backed away from it. Delilah panted, watching the door as she continued to back away from the door. After a few moments of trying to calm herself just a little, she turned away from the door and stopped walking. There she stood, in the middle of the tunnel, staring down it, the dim lights abover her showing no end to the darkness of the tunnel.

With a heavy sigh, Delilah collected her wits, and started walking down the tunnel.

The sounds were gone. The sounds of the undead approaching, their moans, groans and the shuffling and slap of their bare feet, the sound was no more. The tunnel was silent, the weakly lit light bulbs above twinkling, but only slightly. The tunnel was lonesome and solemn.
A single long tunnel of concrete floor and red brick wall, it's end unseen and black. It was then that it came, from before, that repulsive, cold aurora. It seeped and swirled through the tunnel around Delilah. It was then that a crackling could be heard, like that of wires or intense heat.

The light bulbs, those hanging along the distance of the tunnel, they began to fizz and intensify in brightness, the once night-black tunnel now lit up like a furnace. A single pop followed by a shattering of glass could be heard. Then, in a single instance, with a chorus of breaking and a great explosion of glass from above, every single one of the lights shattered apart, raining glass and wire down the length of the tunnel, including on top of Delilah.

The entire tunnel was now completely dark, shrouded over in blackness.

The sudden silence, although a relief, scared the hell out of her. She froze, her steps halting for a split second, before she slowly turned and looked back. There was nothing. No moans and groans. No sounds of footsteps approaching. No shadows on the wall. Nothing. It was as if there had been nothing there all along. Delilah shook her head and quickly turned back around. She lifted her foot, only to freeze yet again. Slowly setting her foot down, she stared down the tunnel blankly, eyes wide in fear.

"Oh no. Oh no, no, no," she whispered softly as she whipped around, looking behind her. It was that fucked up feeling she always got before that man showed up. Crackling pulled her out of her thoughts. The sound, that someone who doesn't like the dark, doesn't like to hear. Delilah looked up at the flickering bulbs abover her, silently praying that they wouldn't go out. Instead, they seemed to grow brighter. So bright, that Delilah had to look down and hold her arm over her head to block the intense light.

And then, with a loud 'pop', the bulbs exploded. Everyone of them. Delilah cried out and instinctively threw her arms over her head. Moments later, she slowly moved her arms off of her head, and shook the glass off of them. Now, she was in a dark tunnel, with glass all over the floor. And her socks were back a ways. Delilah closed her eyes, then opened them, trying to get them adjusted to the darkness. It wasn't working. It was too damn dark. She reached out and leaned over, trying to find the wall. Taking a cautious step, so to make sure she didn't cut her foot, her finger tips brushed against sometji ng hard. Press in her palm against it, she realized it was the wall, and with a heavy sigh, she pressed herself against it.

How the hell was she supposed to get out of here without any light? Had there not been glass on the ground, it wouldn't have been too difficult. But, there just so happens, there was, and it was going to be.

And then there was light. From the far end of the tunnel came a bright, piercing light, it’s rays extended just short of where Delilah stood, leaving her in a state of shadow. The red brick wall was illuminated to almost an orange shade, the gray concrete floor reflected the bright light to a dull degree. From the ceiling hung an assembly of bare wires from which the now broken light bulbs were hung. The floor’s length was littered with clear shards of glass, barely visible in the intense lighting.

The intense light at the tunnel’s end was suddenly blotched by a shadowy figure, a tall shape that stood within the center of the tunnel, still and silent. The ominous figure remained where it was, coming no closer. It was then that a strange noise could be heard. A chittering drone, like that of insects, such as secadas or locusts. The noise began to rise, from obnoxiously audible to near deafening. The source of the sound was revealed by the tinkling of the shards of glass on the floor.

Spiders. A great wave of coal black spiders, hundreds of them. They came in a swarm across the floor, directly toward Delilah. They had long, hairy, spindly legs and their bodies were the size of a small mouse. They washed over the shattered glass, burying it beneath their swarm. The plump ugly arachnids drew closer to Delilah. More of them began to descend from above, swinging down from the ceiling on chalky-white threads of web, one of them dropping down onto Delilah’s shoulder, it’s eight beady eyes glaring up at her as it’s brethren below drew closer in a tidal wave of horror.

In the distance, the light began to subside to a bearable point, revealing the distant figure to be the cloaked haunt they had been plaguing Delilah all this time. Though she could not see it from so far, his gray cracked lips parted into a leery yellow smile as the droning of the many score spiders now drowned the entire tunnel.

Again, Delilah had to shield her eyes from the light that suddenly appeared at the end of the tunnel. All of this darkness and blinding bright lights was seriously driving her nuts. She just wished they would just stay on. As her eyes adjusted, and she looked down the tunnel, there stood a silhouette. Judging by the dreadful feeling she felt moments ago, there was no doubt in her mind, that it was that man.

The sound of what seemed like insects, filled her ears, causing her brow to furrow in curiosity. She saw movement on the ground, and looked down, squinting her eyes as if it would help her see better. Delilah's jaw dropped and her eyes widened almost comically. She began to breath harder and faster. It was spiders. Huge spiders, coming right for her. They were even dropping in from the ceiling.

One came down and landed on her shoulder. Instantly, she looked over, and as soon as she saw the creature, she screamed and wiped her hand across her shoulder, effectively knocking it off. Terrified beyond belief, Delilah started walking backwards, trying to avoid the spiders. While she did though, she stepped on the broken glass that had totally slipped her mind. With a cry of oain, she fell back onto her rear. She didn't stop though. As bad as it hurt her feet, she scoot backwards on her hands and feet. Soon enough, her back but the metal barred door, and she cried out in horror, knowing that this things would soon be all over her.

"No! No, no, get away," Delilah screamed as she started to try kicking them away; the ones that had begun trying to climb her feet and legs. Pretty soon, there were too many, and they were all over her. Tears fell down her cheeks as she screamed and cried out, her hands wiping furiously at her spider covered body. It didn't matter how much she tried, they were never ending. Delilah was soon covered from head to toe in the creatures, screaming up at the ceiling, praying that God would help her.

Once again, Delilah woke screaming, in her hospital bed. She was even still trying to get the spiders off of her, the feeling of them crawling on her still tingling her skin.

“Miss Stevens!” Came the voice of Doctor Phillips. The doctor was standing to Delilah’s right, grasping her shoulder and forearm firmly. His weathered hands were warm and rather rough. His aged face was writhed into heavy concern. He looked Delilah in the face intently as he held her in place, his dark brown eyes bore into her. The hospital room looked the exact same still as he had prior. The end table, the IV machine and heart monitor, the digital wall clock, the gifts laid across the table across the room, it was all still there. The clock read the time as 9:04 P.M. The darkness of night could be seen through the window.

“Night terrors?” Asked the doctor impulsively, releasing his hold on her and reaching for his clipboard, which lay beside Delilah on the bed, the Doctor having dropped it there when he reached to comfort her.

When the doctor had touched her arm, Delilah, in her mind, still thought there were spiders on her. She even swiped at his hands, shortly realizing what they really were when she actually touched them. Her blue eyes stared fearfully into his, while her chest heaved from her quick erratic breathing. She groaned and covered her face with her hands again. Night terrors? A sarcastic chuckle escaped her and she uncovered her face, pushing herself into an upright position.

"No. No, I don't know." Delilah closed her eyes and choked out a soft sob. She rested her elbow on her thigh, then put her forehead in her hand. "I'm losing my mind." She was silent for a moment, thinking. "I keep having these dreams about... there's always this man I see. And everytime I see him, something fucked up happens. I was chased by dead people. There were spiders all over me." The more she thought, the more she figured there was more wrong with her than what they had told her. To be having such crazy, lucid dreams like that? To keep seeing the same man Every time?

The Doctor listened as she spoke, describing these dreams she seemed to be having, these night terrors. His face held concern as he listened, he noted her seemingly exhausted state. And her behavior, it was clear that she was truly terrified by something. This has happened twice now. Hmmm...

Doctor Phillips raised his clipboard before him, holding it in both hands as he viewed it with intent. “Well Miss Stevens,” he said,”your CAT Scan this morning showed that while your temporal brain lobe seems to have healed over, your frontal lobe has healed only in minor. Rounding it out, only forty percent of the damage done has gone away. It seems the cells within that region of your brain took a hard pounding in the accident. This good be the source of these...nightmares your having. Medical science and psychology have shown that significant frontal lobe damage can...’corrupt’ one’s state of mind and thinking process.”

He looked up at her from his clipboard. His aged eyes held this rather prying look. He lay his clipboard back on the bed and slightly leaned over toward Delilah, only slightly. “Miss Stevens,” He said,”I’m no psychologist or therapist, but I’m curious, these nightmares your having, this same man that you describe being in your dream, who is he? Do you know him, is he someone from your past? An abusive relative, a rogue boyfriend? I know this might be of personal nature, but maybe I can better help you understand what’s happening, even if only basically.”

Delilah only half listened as Philips spoke about her frontal lobe. It could be true, what he was saying. She really wasn't sure. Being a surgeon, she didnt deal with the patients much after their surgeries. It still struck her as unusual. Delilah stared down at her blanket, zoning out, deep in thought whennshe sensed Philips beside her, moving. She focused and turned her head, giving the man her full attention now.

"No," she began with an almost sarcastic chuckle, shaking her head, "no none of that. I don't think. I've never had relationships go that bad for me before. My family is a little crazy, but not abusive. I don't think anyone at work hates me. Not enough to haunt my goddamn dreams like that." Delilah laughed dryly and looked Philips in his eyes. "Is this a new aged Freddy Kreuger," she asked in humored sarcasm.

The Doctor remained serious as Delilah responded, the grave expression he wore remained ironed into his face. He shifted slightly and stood up straight, clasping his hands behind his back. “Can you please describe this man? What does he look like, what does he wear? Does he say anything to you in these dreams?” The Doctor realized he was prying rather hard, but he had to know. It was imperative that he figured out just what was going on here.

I hope she can give me any kind of detail, any kind of straight answer or clue. This shouldn’t be happening.

Delilah's eyes shot in the doctors direction when he asked what the man looked like. Turning her head to face him, she closed her eyes and just barely shook her head as she tried to picture him in her head. Something she really didn't want to do. "He uh... He's real tall and always has on these black clothes," she explained as she used her hands to try and help her, motioning to her own body as if it were his. "This black hooded cloak. He's a gross pale grey color and his eyes are... They're white, like someone who's blind."

Her brown furrowed as an continued to try and remember. "He has horrible yellowed teeth, and one of his hands was..." She trailed off and opens her eyes, lifting her right hand. "It was just bones. No skin, no blood... just bones." Delilah stared at her hand a moment longer before meeting the doctors intense gaze.

"Who is this guy?" Her voice broke a bit at the last word, and she quickly brought her hand up, covering her mouth.

Doctor Phillips pressed his tongue into his left cheek as he listened to Delilah describe the man from her nightmares. He said nothing, his expression unreadable. He slowly stood from the hospital bed, grabbing up his clipboard as he did so. He stared emptily at the far wall, thinking to himself.

He finally shook his head and said to Delilah,”No, I can’t make anything of that. That is quite strange. Perhaps...” He raised his right hand to his chin and scratched at his beard. He exhaled slightly and turned away from Delilah toward the window to the right.

Then it came, that dreadful, ear-splitting high pitched screech. It seemed louder than the previous times before, ringing at a painfully high pitched rate. The Doctor and the entire room turned to a scrambled blur as the sound droned away.

No, she didn't think he'd get anything from it. Why would He? They were just... dreams. Really, really fucked up dreams. Delilah shook her head and chuckled dryly, watching as the doctor turned away from her. He had begun to speak again, when that God awful screeching sound pierced the quiet stillness of the room. Delilah cried out and again, cover her ears, though the action never seemed to help. It was all just out of instinct. She leaned over, resting her forehead between her knees and squeezed her eyes shut.

Was this ever going to stop?

Moments later, when the noise did stop, Delilah exhaled a relieved breath. She hesitated opening her eyes and looking up, because she knew the setting would be different somehow. It always was. When she finally worked up the courage to sit up, her eyes slowly opened, as if she were afraid to open them. Definitely terrified. When they were finally open all the way, her hands came away from her ears and she took in the new sight. A very beautiful room with a four post canopy bed. The drape that hung from it, matched those on the window; a soft beige color it looks like. There was a small table next to the bed where a small lamp sat. It gave off just enough light to make the room creepy, or calming. Just depended on how one looked at it.

Delilah slowly swung her legs over the edge of the bed and slid closer to it. Looking down, she noticed that the floor was tiled black and beige. It looked like a checker board, but it was pretty. Directly in front of her, was a dresser, and to her left was an open door. She placed her feet on the cool floor and pushed herself up so that she was standing. A sharp pain in her side caused her to stumble slightly, but caught herself with the bed. She took a hesitant step towards the door, then stopped.

What horrors waited out there for her this time?

The room was quiet, as was outside of the open door. There wasn’t a sound to be heard, not even outside. No crickets, birds, or whistling of the wind, nothing. Of course silence did not always mean serene. What happened next was proof of that.

It was just next to the left of the doorway, along the bare wall that it would appear. It seemed to be oozing from within the wall, yet there were no openings, cracks, or breaks for it to come. Yet there it was, in what appeared to be blood, a dark crimson liquid that poured messily down the length of the middle of the wall. And then there were letters, the pattern of the oozing red liquid had spelled something along the wall.



There was then a shattering of glass, the lightbulb in the lamp near the bed had burst apart. Delilah was now once more alone in the dark, though not total darkness. There was just enough light to still see the foreboding, bloody message on the wall. The red liquid still continued to ooze, pouring down onto the floor, puddling along the base of the wall.
The message remained clear and legible still.

Just as Delilah was going to brave walking out of the room, something unnerving happened. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw something happening to the wall just beside the door. Some sort of liquid, looking very much like blood, can losing out of the wall. She squinted her eyes as it began to form letters, words. In moments, a message was revealed. Delilah's eyes slowly widened as she read the words on the wall.

Her eyes shifted from the open door, to the message again. Then again, she heard glass shatter. It had scared the hell out of her, causing her to jump and cry out a bit. Her he quickly can up to cover her mouth as she turned and looked at the little lamp that has been on seconds ago. Once again, an was left in the dark. Only this time, there was just enough light for her to turn back around and read the message again.

Delilah slowly brought her hand back down and looked at the open door, the darkness seeming to silently beckon her into it. With a shakey breath, she slowly began walking out of the room and into the dark hallway.

The hallway that stretched before Delilah was very dimly lit. The floor was covered with a black and ivory patterned carpet that stretched down the length of the hall. The walls and ceiling were painted a creamy light brown color, and were lined with bronze candlestick holders, each two feet apart.
The halls’ weak lighting in fact was coming from the white candles which were perched inside the bronze holders. Small yellow flame leapt from their wicks in a futile effort to enlighten the brooding hall.

Further down at the hall’s end was a brown door, barely visible in the poorly lit hallway. Just to the right was another closed brown door, and to the left a staircase could be viewed, it’s railing just several feet to the left. The hallway walls were also hung with paintings. Every two feet of space between the candleholders was hung with a different painting.

A screaming face wrapped tightly in barbed wire, a skull with nails driven through it all around, two bloody nails crossed like a crucifix, a depiction of what appeared to be the world engulfed in angry red flame, a blonde-haired boy holding a bloody sword and smiling cruelly. Each painting was more morbid than the last.

Delilah's heart hammered in her chest.

She was short of breath.

Adrenaline surged throughout her body.

She knew she shouldn't leave the room. Knew it with every fiber of her being, but she left it anyways. If there was something here, it would most likely come for her regardless. So, with a deep breath, Delilah stepped out into the hall. The carpet below her bare feet was the first thing she noticed, her eyes casting downwards to it. The next thing, were the candles that lined the wall. Then the pictures on the wall between the candles.

Delilah' s brow furrowed and she stepped closer to the first picture. It was disturbing in the worst kind of way. Her eyes traveled over it for a moment before moving on to the next one. Shaking her head, she moved on, picture after picture. Each one was more messed up than the last, and it only added to her fear.

Once she made it to the end of the hall, she could either go into one of the other two rooms, or down the staircase. It didn't take long for her to decide. Stairs it was. Delilah didn't waste anymore time. She grabbed onto the hand rail and slowly began her descent down them, trying to be as light footed as she could. Unfortunately, one of the boards creaked anyways, causing Delilah to instantly freeze and hold her breath. Her eyes scanned the area for a moment before she slowly released her breath and continued down.

The foyer, as eery and unwelcome as the rest of the apparent mansion. It was lit by a single candle lighting which hung above. The fireplace was cold and barren, and at the moment not a sound could be heard still. There was a sort of book room nearby, not large enough to be called a library.

It was then the weeping began. The only sound to be heard, it was easy to pinpoint. It came from the small book room nearby. It was the sound of a young lady crying woefully, not bawling nor screaming, but a simple whimpering cry.
She was just inside of the bookroom, yet to be seen by Delilah. A slender young lady of a frail build down on her knees. She was knelt in the middle of the small room, between the two towering book shelves on either side of her and the small wooden desk and chair that sat in front of her. She wore a ragged black night gown that hung the distance to her feet.
She had long brunette hair that hung freely down her back. Her pale hands were cupped over her face as she knelt and cried softly, sniffling lightly between sobs.

As Delilah descended the stairs, her eyes caught sight of the single light that hung above the foyer. She then glanced at the fireplace, which looked like it hadn't been lit in years. Still, she continued down the stairs until her feet were planted firmly on the ground floor. Delilah looked to her left, where she he noticed a small room with books in it. A small library maybe? A study?

She began to walk the opposite direction of the book room, when she suddenly heard crying. Delilah froze in place and turned her head in the direction the crying was coming from. She remained frozen in place for a moment, debating whether she wanted to go and investigate or not. With a deep breath, she turns and stood facing the room. Delilah began to walk slowly towards the book room until she was standing in the doorway.

There, between a desk and chair, and several bookcases, was where the sound was coming from. A woman dressed in dark clothes, with dark hair sat crying. Delilah stared at the woman for a moment. No. She had watched plenty of scary movies to know what was going to happen if she went in there and disturbed her. Hell, it would still probably happen regardless. With a slow exhale, Delilah began to slowly walk backwards, away from the room, her eyes never leaving the crying woman.

So far, her curiosity had gotten her chased and nearly killed. She wasn't going to keep making the same mistake.