Okay, so hey guys, how are you! Here am I, with another spine-chilling post, which I hope you guys like. This post is different because its a dream that I actually had one random night, and still haven’t forgotten about.
So, mostly, whenever you have some of the merriest or even the weirdest and scariest dreams, you wake up and don’t act normal. What I mean by this is that your behavior changes. For example, a mature 13 year old boy experiences a nightmare and when he wakes up, starts to think it is real and that what he has just dreamed of is possibly real in this concrete world of actuality. He practically just acts dumb for like 5 minutes, tells his parents the story. But eventually, he realizes what he is babbling about and himself doesn’t know what he was thinking back when he was telling his parents the story or even thinking all that can happen in real life. He felt foolish just by recalling about what thoughts his brain was accompanied by a few minutes ago. And let me tell you, this is exactly what happened with me. Even though I did feel brainless and idiotic, I figured that this is a story worth to be read by your precious eyes! Mos people forget their dreams soon after they have woke up, but I don’t know what was special in this specific fantasy, that I still remember this tale, plot to plot, even though I had this dream like a week ago, literally. Without wasting time, I guess I should start narrating this strange reverie of mine…
Jack towered over Ethan, his fists clenched and ready, yet the fight was far from one-sided. Ethan, though smaller and younger, moved with an eerie precision. Each punch he landed sent waves of excruciating pain through Jack, pain that seemed impossible given Ethan’s size. Their clash was fierce, echoing with the sound of fists and grunts, but it was always Jack who ended up battered and bruised, his wounds carrying an almost otherworldly quality.
As the years passed, the animosity between Jack and Ethan faded. One rainy afternoon, they found themselves stuck together in an old, abandoned house on the outskirts of town. Forced to work together to escape a sudden storm and the eerie creaks of the dilapidated structure, they began to bond over shared fears and laughter. By the time they found their way out, they had become inseparable friends.
By the time they were teenagers, their friendship was strong. However, a new dynamic entered Jack’s life: a new friend named Oliver. Oliver was not fond of Ethan. He was jealous of the deep bond Jack and Ethan shared. Tension simmered between Oliver and Ethan until it boiled over one fateful night.
Ethan, ever the provocateur, humiliated Oliver at a party. Infuriated and desperate to reclaim his place beside Jack, Oliver did something reckless. He knew his father, a stern man with a dark past named Mr. Brooks, kept a gun in his drawer. In a fit of anger and desperation, Oliver took the gun, intending only to scare Ethan. But fear turned to tragedy when a misfired bullet ended Ethan’s life.
Jack’s grandfather, Professor Harold, was known for his groundbreaking inventions. Among them was a small cylindrical case designed to capture ghosts who wished to communicate with the living. However, he had never launched this gadget due to a fatal flaw: once a spirit was captured, it could also release other, more malevolent entities.
Exactly one year after Ethan’s untimely death, Jack was lounging on his couch, watching TV. Suddenly, the ghost-capturing device began to blink rapidly. Unease crept up Jack’s spine as he felt a cold draft sweep through the room. The TV flickered, and the lights dimmed. Strange, ghostly activities began to unfold. The furniture trembled, and shadowy figures darted across the walls. Whispered voices echoed through the house, growing louder and more frantic.
Jack knew instinctively that it was Ethan’s spirit trying to reach out to him. But this was not the Ethan he remembered. This was a twisted, vengeful spirit, fueled by anger and betrayal. Ethan’s ghost was relentless, creating havoc in Jack’s home. Pictures fell off walls, mirrors shattered, and a chilling wind howled through the corridors.
Ethan’s first target was Oliver. The ghost’s wrath was swift and brutal. Oliver, once so confident and brash, was found lifeless in his bedroom, his face frozen in a mask of sheer terror. The police were baffled, but Jack knew the truth.
The haunting escalated. At this point, you could think of Ethan as Lucifer. Ethan was never a normal human being. What he was was something no human being’s imagination could envision of. Jack’s parents, Sarah and Michael, were tormented by nightmarish visions. The house itself seemed alive with malevolent energy. Jack’s nights were filled with horrific dreams of Ethan’s twisted face, whispering threats and promises of pain. Desperate to end the nightmare, Jack turned to his grandfather’s device, hoping to communicate with Ethan’s spirit and seek forgiveness. But the device, once activated, only seemed to amplify the terror. The blinking light became a strobe, casting grotesque shadows that danced menacingly around the room.
Ethan’s ghost appeared, more horrifying than ever. His eyes were hollow, his face twisted with rage. He screamed at Jack, accusing him of betrayal, of choosing Oliver over their friendship. The air grew frigid, and Jack’s breath turned to mist.
In a spine-chilling crescendo, Ethan’s spirit unleashed his full fury. Objects flew across the room, smashing into walls. Jack’s parents were dragged from their beds by unseen hands, their screams echoing through the house. Jack himself was thrown against the wall, his body wracked with pain. Just as Jack thought he would succumb to the terror, a glimmer of hope appeared. His grandfather’s voice echoed in his mind, reminding him of the device’s true purpose: to capture and contain the spirit. With the last of his strength, Jack activated the device fully, focusing all his willpower on trapping Ethan’s vengeful spirit.
The light flared brilliantly, and a deafening silence followed. The house, once a scene of chaos, fell eerily still. Jack, battered and bruised, knew the battle was over. Ethan’s spirit was contained, but the scars of that horrific night would haunt Jack forever.
In the end, the true horror was not just the ghostly vengeance, but the realization of how fragile and volatile friendships could be, and how easily they could turn into nightmares.
ALRIGHT, SO THAT WAS MY DREAM. now you might be wondering why i used these names like ‘Jack’ and all. That’s because I don’t know who they were! What I can tell you is that Jack in this story, is me. Tell me if you liked this chronicle! And yeah, even I don’t know how I got this dream and also, in case you’re speculating why I didn’t use any picture in this story, come on. I don’t remember what it looked like in my dream but I can imagine! Don’t underestimate the power of what you can imagine, and while reading the story, I hope you could visualize ‘something’ horror…
Rishik Bose 
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