Undeniable Truth: As Far As the Story Began, Dreams Exist

“Undeniable Truth: As Far As the Story Began, Dreams Exist”

a blog series for A Storybook of Nightmare

“Dreams aren’t always kind. Some leave pieces behind when you wake up.”

CHAPTER 1

THE FIRST RETURN

Elora didn’t fall asleep. She disappeared.

One blink — and the world she knew, the bed she laid on, the nightlight humming softly in the corner — all vanished like fog in wind.

When her eyes opened again, she was standing barefoot in a hallway she had never seen before, and yet somehow… remembered.

The floor creaked, not from her weight, but like it was breathing.

The wallpaper peeled upward, curling like burned pages.

Down the hall, a flickering lightbulb swung back and forth, casting long, twitching shadows that didn’t match the rhythm of her movements.

“Elora,” a voice whispered.

Not loud. Not far.

Just… behind her ear.

She turned fast — nothing.

But the air smelled like something old and wet.

Like forgotten toys under floorboards. Like photographs buried in damp soil.

The doors on either side of the hall weren’t doors at all.

They had no knobs. No hinges.

Just smooth slabs of wood with keyholes shaped like teeth.

She didn’t try to open them.

She already knew they wouldn’t open — not yet.

As she moved forward, the floor stretched beneath her feet.

The hallway grew longer, curving slightly like the spine of something ancient.

Paintings lined the wall now. Dozens of them.

Each one was of her — but not how she looked now.

One was her as a child, standing beside a lake that didn’t exist.

Another was her, smiling with her eyes closed, while a figure loomed behind her in the fog.

And one… one showed her asleep, in her real bedroom, right now.

She stepped closer.

In the painting, her chest rose and fell in peaceful rhythm.

Her fingers were still curled in the way she always slept.

But something was wrong.

The Elora in the painting opened her eyes.

And stared back at her.

Her mouth moved — slowly — deliberately.

“Don’t forget.”

The hallway shuddered.

A wind, ice-cold and sour, blew out the flickering bulb.

And then darkness fell like a curtain.

When Elora woke up in her bed, her fingers were curled.

Her nightlight was off.

And muddy footprints led from the window to where she slept.

She was awake.

She was sure of it.

But the dream was just beginning.