Chapter One
A cool, shrill cackle enveloped his mind. The hair on his arms were raised, his heart began to beat faster into a race, beads of sweat seeping through his skin. The sound came again, closer this time, louder and purposeful. 'No' he thought, gripped by fear, 'It can't be; not him.'
The voice responded, this time mixing a single word among the sinister laugh, "Norman."
Norman's eyes were roaming, searching for the source.
"Norman," the voice taunted again. He wanted to run in the opposite direction, but where was that.
"No!" Norman shouted aloud this time, "Go away! No!"
The cackle grew louder, closer, and then out of nowhere the face appeared. Large, yellow eyes and a devilish grin invaded Norman's gaze. "I'M BACK!"
…he shot straight up. At first there was silence; no movement, no sound, as he sat up in bed, mouth wide open, awaiting for the cool night air to find his lungs. It stayed like this for what seemed like hours, while the room began to shrink, and the darkness seemed to seep inside him, his eyes wide from suffocation. Then as if someone had snapped their fingers, he inhaled a deep relieving breath. Everything seemed to slowly come back into focus, the room back to its original size, the creeks and whistles of the night all back in their place. For a while, all he could do was sit there, taking in deep breaths, eyes gently closed, as if it required great concentration.
It had been years since he had heard that sound; seen those eyes. Why? The voice was becoming distant, sailing towards the back of his memory, as if it had all been a weird, crazy dream. It had though, it was a dream, and it wasn't real.
It was necessary for him to go through this rationalization. He needed it; he needed to push it far away. These thoughts had no place, it was a dream, nothing more, and it wasn't welcome. His breathing had fully arrived at a steady rhythm, wrapping him in a blanket of calm, cool relief; a wet blanket. A wet blanket? He placed his hands around him, pushing down against the mattress below, feeling the soaked sheets crease, and stick between his fingers. There was no need to check the state of his shirt, the cold dampness pressing against the hairs on his chest had already given that answer.
There was no going back to sleep, and since most of his senses had unfortunately returned, he had come to the conclusion that he could probably do with a shower too. Lifting himself from the bed, he slowly made his way to the bathroom. Resting his hands firmly against the outer rim of the sink, he stalled again, allowing his thoughts to briefly take him back to a few minutes prior, before regaining focus. 'It was just a dream,' he said convincingly, letting out a sigh of relief as he lifted his head. His reflection glared right back at him, those large yellow eyes.