My Pharmacography

The Russian Sleep Experiment

That night I writhed and wrestled with the bedcovers. My arm was burning with the need to scratch, like a rash gone wild, spilling up my arm in fiery lashes like fresh, oozing bites. I turned the pillow for the chill the other side usually brought but found only damp warmth. Nothing soothed me. My dreams had turned to nightmares, full of glinting teeth and hacking, spluttering laughs; the sound of men turned mad by gas and the far off promise of home. They stared me down and never blinked, watching from the shadows as I opened my eyes and as I closed them. I’d watched them so long, I knew their faces as well as my own.

Night Terrors by Daniel Tyka

The Russian Sleep Experiment Horror Novella by Holly Ice