Nightmare Anatomy

I always hated when in my old Creative Writing class last year, when we were assigned to write short fiction papers. It irritated the hell out of me that I had to fit a detailed story scene in less than 500 words. We would get a week or more to do so, but with other conflicting stories that we had to turn in as well, I was always much more focused on the longer, more detailed papers than the insanely short, short story. Which comes to the point that I HATE short fiction stories. This is also why this confuses myself to why I was able to write one in such a short amount of time (20 minutes!). I would very much appreciate it if anyone that were to read it, give me your two cents, constructive criticism on this short piece of work. 

Nightmare Anatomy

His red shirt resides underneath my bed with all the other random crap I toss under there that I don’t care about, but don’t want to get rid of. It’s silly and ridiculous to have kept anything from him, but I can’t bring myself to throw it away. Even though at night it creeps up my bed like nasty spiders that spin their disgusting web around me as I sleep and dream. It looks like I’m a human dream catcher, but my dreams run rapid with horrible plots that overcome my sweet dreams. I can never outrun the dreadfulness of the nightmares, nor can I outrun him in reality. Running is my worse enemy as I toss and turn in my web cocoon; always tripping and falling when I find that I’m nearing safety. It feels like one of those stupid scenes from a cheesy horror movie where the dumb girl trips and never gets up and just screams and screams. Unfortunately, I can feel how scared those stupid girls must feel and the distress they carry. Before my maker comes, I wake up; my body jerks up and alarmed from a self-induced heart attack. Little does my disconnected body know though, when I go out and see him with her, another one, and another, it feels like that scary, cheesy horror movie scene playing out in reality like it almost always does in my dreams-turned-nightmares. I’m walking to the edge of the busy river walk, I see him, in fear I turn to run, but I trip into the main street. Fear overtakes my body; limp, completely helpless, and waiting to die.