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They came for him in the night. Terrible monsters with green eyes; fangs dripping with venom and saliva. They loomed over him as he slept.

He sat up with a start, backing away from the horrifying unnatural things as they crawled towards him on impossible limbs.

“Get away,” he yelled, his voice hoarse, his mouth dry. “Get away from me!”

Still they came.

He kicked the covers away and leapt across the room. They stood between him and the door. There was no escape, and his family- they weren’t in here, they must be on the other side of the door. His wife. His son. He had to stop these fiends. He had to protect his family.

His eyes fixed on the beasts, he groped for something he could use as a weapon. Anything – he had to protect his family.

His fingers brushed against a heavy lamp and he grasped it as a desperate man grasps at hope. With a cry, he launched himself across the room and beat at the monsters with all his strength. When the lamp broke apart, he used his fists.

He had to protect his family.

As the blood flowed, the mist cleared. He woke up, and the tragic consequences of his sleeping illusion became evident.

© Kari Fay

(Author’s Note: Three Word Wednesday time again, and the words Evident, Illusion and Tragic brought to mind a real-life case that I read about many years ago. I recall it only vaguely, and internet searches are coming up sadly lacking, but I think it was from the nineteenth century. A Scottish man, Simon Fraser, dreamed of a beast, which he killed. He awoke to find it was his infant son.)

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