Ian had stopped leaving his bedroom unless had absolutely had to, which was easy enough. His bathroom was connected to his bedroom, and Ian had stopped adjusting the thermostat back up during the day so the house was colder than he was used to. Food was basically optional at this point, for whatever reason; Ian only left to eat every other day or sometimes every third day.

At least things were going well with work.

There hadn’t been another monster attack since the first night, but the strange changes to Ian’s body hadn’t gone away. He still had a little stub at the base of his tail bone and had to be careful touching around his eyes because the skin was sensitive. Ian was just grateful that the changes seemed to be a one-time thing and weren’t progressive.

He kept waiting to wake up one morning and find that his body and life had gone back to normal. Perhaps not happy, but normal. Ian hated the thought that he might not be allowed to leave the house anymore. If anyone got too close a look at him, they might just call the cops on Ian for being a freak, and that was the last thing that he needed in his life.

The dreams kept coming, so Ian continued to write about them. He was hammering out new chapters every few days, though they were shorter than when he had started. Having a project that he could make visible progress on was doing a lot of work to keep him sane.

If Ian was being honest with himself, the dreams had stopped feeling like nightmares even if the actual content of them hadn’t changed very much. He felt safer when he was dreaming about the lady and her wondrous—nightmarish, he reminded himself—castle than when he was awake in his own home. That was more than a little ironic, because in his story it was clear that the lady was really a monster trying to take advantage of poor Stephen Williams.

The story had evolved into Stephen talking more about the lady as she seeped into his waking mind, affecting him at work and when he was home trying to relax. She was actively trying to use him to spread information of her into his world, to tell other people about her however he could. In the end, the lady was going to step through a portal and claim the planet as a new extension of her domain. Stephen was important to her because she needed someone sensitive to her presence who would share her gospel to everyone before she arrived.

Sometimes, it was hard for Ian to really believe that the idea had come from him.

People were receiving the story well! Every new chapter seemed to bring in new readers who really enjoyed what he was doing; not that there were no sour grapes in the bunch, but the overall response was positive. The Lady in my Nightmares was easily the most popular thing that Ian had ever put out.

It made him feel really good about himself, as though he were fulfilling some sort of purpose. He wondered if he should stick to writing horror full-time if he was so good at it, but the truth was that as much as he loved horror, he wasn’t sure if he had enough ideas to make this a full-time thing. Maybe in his next story, though, he’d adapt that hallucinatory monster or the strange things happening to to his body into experiences for the main character.

A story about someone losing their humanity by being changed into something else sent a shiver up his spine. Ian could certainly relate to that idea. Perhaps the things that had happened to his own body would be more terrifying than annoying if he’d felt more attached to humanity to begin with.

Ian didn’t really have a plan except to hope that the changes eventually went away on their own. The only other alternative he could see was to learn to live with being a freak, which wasn’t any more appealing. It didn’t seem likely that the world was going to learn to live with half-human monsters in their midst anytime soon.

Days passed and Ian continued to work, both on his ever-looming day job that ate up his life eight hours at a time as well as on the story that was giving him life. Some days, Ian would only get up from the computer to use the restroom. More than once, he’d fallen asleep in his chair, wrapped in blankets and still in his baggy clothes from the day before.

The dreams were so much clearer than they used to be, to the point where it felt like there was real lore building up around the lady. Ian wasn’t sharing all of it in the story; he needed to keep a little in reserve in case the dreams ran dry and he needed fodder for the ending. Still, the fact that this was all happening in his sleeping, unconscious mind was amazing! For the first time in his life, Ian felt like he was being truly clever.

He was currently writing a section about fungi that ate radiation. In his dreams, it was a black fungus that was used to block space radiation, an important element on many of the planets that the lady had conquered in her expansion. Ian just wanted to look up what a radiation-eating fungus might actually be like. The last thing he needed was for some science fiction nerd calling him out on an…

As he read the article that he’d found, Ian furled his brow a little bit. This was exactly what he’d been speculating about: a black fungus that had been tested for use in protecting astronauts from radiation in space. That was oddly accurate for something that had come to him in a dream.

How strange.

Still, it was just a coincidence.

Something was nagging at the back of Ian’s memories: an earlier commenter had mentioned the story drawing from real-life events. Other people had said as much here and there, but Ian had shrugged it off as a lot of coincidences. Of course he had; that’s all this was.

Ian navigated over to the story and opened up the first chapter, scanning until he found something that looked like it could be a real-world reference. In chapter two, the lady mentioned something about needing to purge the corrupted who preyed on innocents, and described a serial killer by name.

He entered the name into his browser and—

Holy Hell!

Ian was absolutely confident that he had never heard about this man before, but he had just been convicted on six counts of murder, all young women. The name was exactly the same! How could such a coincidence appear in his story?!

No, he had to stop panicking. Coincidences happened. One or two strange parallels to reality didn’t mean anything freaky was going on here. Ian just needed to confirm that it really was a few unfortunate coincidences and that nothing supernatural was going on.

He didn’t believe in the supernatural.

Ian read through the rest of the story, looking up one or two things from each chapter. Sometimes, it turned out to be nothing, but most of the things he searched for made his heart sink a little further with how accurate to real life they were: names, dates, locations, news articles. People he didn’t know, incidents that were too small to end up on national news, even scientific facts that Ian had been unaware of were all ending up in his story!

It was all real. The dreams were real and the lady was real and he was writing her gospel!

No. No, that wasn’t possible. Ian couldn’t think that way or he’d go mad and he was definitely not mad!

If she was real, then why? Why use Ian as some kind of… evangelical in her name? What name, even? The lady had never given Ian a name to use for her. And if the lady was real and coming for Earth, why give any advanced warning?

His breathing was quick and ragged. Ian had to brace himself against the arm rests of his chair. He was losing it, had absolutely gone bonkers, bars in the windows; someone had taken his marbles away. What was he supposed to do with this revelation, though?

The first thing that Ian needed to do was get out of his head, so he got up and scoured the house for his keys. When was the last time that he’d left the house? It must have been long enough for him to forget that his keys were sitting in a side table near the front door.

Ian got into his car, all bundled up so no one could get a good look at the blue patches of skin or the stubby little tail or his weird eyes. He still looked mostly human, so a trip to the store for groceries and toilet paper would be perfectly safe. Things couldn’t go wrong if he was quick about it, right? Besides, it would be good for him to get out of the house for an hour or two.

He kept his head down as he wandered through the isles, muttering to himself like the nutjob that he was. Ian knew that he looked crazy, but he knew that he was crazy so it didn’t count! Crazy people didn’t know that they were crazy.

Every time he turned a corner, Ian fidgeted and prepared to scream. He wasn’t entirely convinced that he was safe from monsters, even here at the grocery store. His home had always been a little frightening to him, with all those empty corners for things to hide in, and he’d always felt a little vulnerable there. This was the first time that Ian had felt unsafe in the middle of a grocery store.

Ian spent a long time looking at wine and beer. He was in a part of the States where you couldn’t just buy liquor at grocery stores, which wasn’t normally a problem but Ian didn’t want to be out of the house any longer than he had to be. Wine and beer would have to suffice.

Something was wrong about his conclusion: there was no way that the lady could actually be real. It was far more likely that Ian was psychic and information was coming to him in his dreams, obscured by a fantasy of some monster. He’d never believed in psychic powers, either, but it was far more plausible than a creature from beyond the stars coming to talk to him of all people. Yes, something was going on, but it had to be something wrong with him and not the state of the universe.

It was a relief to be back in his car and on the road again, away from all those people and the fear of being discovered. When Ian got into the driveway, he parked the car and sat staring at the house for a while, unmoving. There was food that needed to be refrigerated, but his body refused to open the door or unbuckle his seatbelt.

There was a monster in there. Not that Ian could see one, but his mind was telling him that there definitely was, and after the events of a few days—weeks?—ago Ian couldn’t simply discount the idea anymore. He knew that without evidence it was stupid to believe that he was in danger, but he was absolutely convinced all the same.

Being a coward forever wasn’t an option, though. Ian opened the door and stepped out of the car, grabbing the few bags that he’d bought; even in the store his appetite had been missing and he’d had to force himself to buy anything at all. Getting them all onto his arm so he could grab the keys was a bit of a struggle, but Ian managed it.

The house was empty, because of course it was; Ian had known that before he’d opened the door. He released a long, grateful sigh and trudged his way to the kitchen with the plastic bags cutting off the circulation in his arm. Once they were sitting on the counter, Ian opened the fridge and started pulling things out of the bags.

He was stuffing some pickled jalapeños into the back of the fridge when he heard it: a wet, sticky plop. Ian froze. What was that? What in the house could make that noise?

Another one.

Ian searched his memory. What did he have that sounded like that?!

One more, than another. He heard a deep, throaty growl. Ian gulped as his entire body broke out in a cold sweat. It couldn’t be real. Whatever it was, it couldn’t be real.

A soft hiss.

Taking a deep breath, Ian stepped back and forced his head away from the fridge, toward the doorway of the kitchen. Standing there, leaning around the corner, was a tall, slick looking creature with skin stretched tight across an over-large skull. It had more eyes than it needed and long talons protruding from its fingers.

Ian turned and ran for the back door. There was another sickening plop and he was slammed into the floor as something fell on top of him! He cried out, voice hoarse, as it wrapped its talons around his arms and started dragging him back. Ian screamed. He felt light and clammy. Black spots dominated his vision as everything went dark.

When Ian woke up, he was laying on the hall rug and covered in sweat. He sprang to his feet and stumbled into the bedroom, slamming the door shut behind him and locking it. After scouring the room and bathroom for any sign of an intruder, Ian collapsed onto the bed and screamed into his pillow.

He broke down into tears. Not only had there been another attack, but Ian could already feel that his body was different from before. Everything seemed louder, to start with. No, not quite: not louder, but sharper somehow. Whatever this was didn’t just affect his appearance, it was also altering his body internally.

Knowing that it was inevitable, Ian pulled himself out of bed and marched to the bathroom. Whatever had happened to him, Ian needed to face it head-on. Ian closed his eyes and took a deep breath, then looked into the mirror to see what kind of horror had overtaken him.

The scaly patches had spread all over his skin, though it was most noticeable in the bold light blue patches scattered here and there. Ian opened his mouth to reveal sharp teeth, and something about the shape of his mouth overall felt off in a way that Ian couldn’t explain. Soft spots around his eyes were still there, discolored and even more sensitive to touch than they had been before. The stub of skin on his lower back had grown significantly, trailing down his thigh a little, and clearly had its own skeletal and muscle structure; at the very end of it was a few tiny little suction pads that stuck to Ian’s finger.

His hair was thicker and longer than before, hiding his malformed ears. How could Ian hear so well, then, if his ears were collapsing in on themselves? Ian gentle pressed his hands against his hair and he could hear the sound of rushing water as if he’d covered his ears. He removed his hands, stomach churning. His hair was turning into some kind of hearing organ.

Ian threw up into the toilet and fell to his knees, bile spewing forth from his mouth. That was too much, that bit about the hair had pushed him over the edge. All of this was wrong, so wrong. It took a few minutes for Ian to empty his stomach and shakily climb to his feet.

He looked back into the mirror, his expression harrowed. Ian had never felt this hopeless in his entire life and he had not had the easiest of lives so far. It seemed like there was nothing he could do to stop these attacks or prevent more changes from happening to his body. If it happened again, who knew what kind of horrible creature he would become?

For a long while, Ian stared at his reflection, wishing that he hated it more than he did. It certainly looked wrong, the way he was stuck halfway between being human and some kind of monster, but no individual part felt wrong: the blue scales looked nice, the tail didn’t make him uncomfortable, and when he ran his long tongue over his sharp teeth Ian didn’t mind having either the tongue or the teeth. His eyes, which were a darker red and had a more cat-like slit to them, didn’t really phase Ian in the slightest.

The changes were aesthetically pleasing enough on their own, as strange as that was for Ian to admit to himself. If the transformation into some kind of dragon-thing had been all at once, Ian might not have even minded too much. Was that him thinking or was something altering his brain? How would he even know either way?

It had to be the lady; she was messing with his head, somehow. Every time he went to sleep, Ian was falling more and more into her clutches. Nobody but her could be sending the monsters after him and altering his body. Ian couldn’t think of anything else that would have the power to affect his mind so badly.

He grabbed the largest bag he owned and started filling it with clothes. Ian didn’t have a plan; what kind of plan did one make for this situation? All he knew was that he had to get out of the house. Perhaps it was built on some alien burial ground, for all he knew. At the very least, distance from the point of origin couldn’t hurt. He just had to get out of the house before this happened to him a third time.

QuillRabbit

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