In the course of one week my boyhood nightmares have returned. The old, yellowed dreams restored and re-released in sickening Technicolor. Last night I heard sounds from the cellar and I was nine years old again, cowering and afraid in my bed. In fragments of nightmare, a monster dragged itself up the stairs to murder me where I lay. Each time the beast approached my room, I’d jolt awake, mouth dry, sheets damp with sweat…
Bad Dreams is taken from the short-story collection Untogether Lives, by Andy P. Jones
