Dream of 6/25/2026: A Short Horror Story

Deliveries

The room was already dark when I became aware of it. Not empty-dark. Not silent-dark. The kind of darkness that feels occupied—like something is waiting for you to remember it exists. I didn’t move right away. There was no urgency in me. Only stillness. The sense that I had been here before, or that I would be here again, and the difference no longer mattered.

Then arms wrapped around me from behind. Warm. Certain. Familiar in a way that didn’t ask to be questioned. I leaned back into him without hesitation. As if my body had already agreed long before I arrived. He held me there for a moment before speaking.

“Will you be long this time?” His voice was close enough that I could feel it more than hear it. I let the silence stretch before answering. “I don’t think so. I’m just helping with a few deliveries.” That was all it took for the dark to loosen. Not disappear. Just… release me.

Sunlight hit like a shift in reality. The city was already awake—too awake—moving as if it had never stopped moving for anyone before. We walked through it without effort. Pavement still warm beneath our steps. Air thick with sound. Lives brushing against each other without ever fully touching.

Ahead of us, Ziana laughed at something Jai said, her hand locked in his like it belonged there permanently. Gavin walked beside me. Not close enough to crowd me. Not far enough to leave. Just there. Like he had always been there. Our shoulders brushed once. Then again. Neither of us acknowledged it. That was normal. That was how it had always been.

“Are you ready for this?” he asked, nudging me lightly. I glanced at him. “It’s just a clothing delivery,” I said. “Are you scared?” He stopped walking. Not fully. Just enough that the world moved without him for a second. “You have a family now,” he said. “You shouldn’t be risking yourself. What if—” I cut him off gently. “I’ll be fine. These deliveries keep my family safe.”

A pause. Then softer. “And I have you to watch my back.” Something in his expression tightened—like he wanted to argue with something older than both of us. Instead, he exhaled. “Yeah,” he said. “I’ll always have your back.” And we kept walking. Like nothing had shifted at all.

The Engagement Party

The house was already loud when we arrived. Music spilled through open doors. The smell of food layered thick in the air. Voices overlapping until none of them could be separated from the others. An engagement party. Ziana and Jai moved through it like they belonged to the center of it all. For a while, it almost felt normal. Almost.

But nothing about the way people looked at us ever fully settled into normal. Ziana was glowing when she pulled me aside. “I want to join the next one,” she said quickly, like she had been holding it in too long. I looked at her. “You’re not ready.” Her chin lifted immediately. “I am.” Jai said nothing. He didn’t need to.

Gavin appeared behind me like he had been listening longer than he should have been. “She’s not,” he said flatly. Ziana ignored him completely. That alone told me everything. Later, Gavin was outside. The noise of the party dulled behind us, replaced by wind and open space. He leaned against the wall of the house, drink in hand, staring out toward the field like it might answer him if he waited long enough.

“You knew this day would come,” I said. He didn’t look at me. “It never gets easier.” Before I could respond, movement caught at the edge of the yard. A group of girls approached. Too synchronized. Too deliberate. Too polished to be accidental. They moved like attention belonged to them. And maybe, in their world, it did.

They saw Gavin first. Of course they did. “Gavin,” they said in practiced unison. He nodded once. “Ladies.” I stayed where I was, leaning slightly against the wall, watching. One of them looked me over like I had interrupted something she had already planned. “I see you’re dressed for the occasion,” she said. I took a slow sip of my drink. Gavin exhaled through his nose—almost a laugh.

Another stepped closer to him. “We haven’t seen you in weeks,” she said softly. “Come inside with us.” Her hand touched his arm. He looked at it. Then removed it. Not harshly. Just final. “I didn’t know we were close,” he said. “We’re not.” Silence tightened. The kind that starts to press inward.

Then one of them looked directly at me. “Who is she?” she asked. “Is she your girlfriend?” The question landed oddly. Like it didn’t belong in the air we were standing in. I stepped forward slightly. “Are you his girlfriend?” I asked her. She hesitated. “No, but—” “Lover?” I tilted my head. “Something like that?” I stepped closer. Not fast. Not threatening. Just enough that she noticed distance mattered.

“Anyone here his lover?” I asked. “No? Then you don’t get to question him about me.” The space between us broke. Not loudly. Just completely. I stepped back again and returned to the wall as if nothing had happened. Gavin was looking at me now. Not surprised. Just… steady. Like this was also normal.

The Journal and the Candles

Inside, Ziana pressed something into my hands. A journal. Then another. Then more. All bound together carefully. Layered. Full. “I’ve been documenting everything,” she said. “All of it.” I opened one. Pages crowded with writing. Sketches. Names. Moments pinned down before they could disappear. “I don’t want any of this to be lost,” she said quietly. Something about the way she said it made the air feel heavier. Like she had already seen the ending before the rest of us had even begun.

Night arrived without warning. The house we entered later looked ordinary from the outside. That was always how it started. Inside, the air felt wrong. Not cold. Not hot. Just… occupied. The family waited in silence. Too still to be comfortable. In the corner, a man sat slumped forward. Not sleeping. Not resting. Something in him was present in a way that didn’t belong to him anymore.

We stepped closer. The air changed immediately. Pressure dropped. Like the world had inhaled and forgotten to exhale. The first sound was not a scream. It was a whisper that didn’t belong in human language. Then the body convulsed. And the shadows moved. Not cast by light. Created by something else entirely. They rose. Split. Multiplied. And suddenly the room was no longer a room. It was containment failing.

Ziana moved first. Too fast. Too certain. She was thrown back without resistance. Jai followed her down. Gavin moved. I moved. Instinct, not thought. Back to back. Like it had always been this way. The air fractured with sound. The walls stopped behaving like walls. And the thing inside the man laughed— not like a voice. Like something learning how to exist through noise.

We didn’t stop. Not when it got worse. Not when it stopped making sense. Not when the names we were calling stopped sounding like names. Only movement. Only reach. Only refusal. And then—nothing. I woke before the end. Not with shock. Not with fear. Just the quiet certainty that something had been slipping away even before I opened my eyes.

The Essence of Memory

The first thing I did was write it down. Because if I didn’t, it would be gone before I could prove it had ever existed. And even now, I can’t tell you where it belongs. A memory. A life. Something else entirely. But I remember this: Some places only exist while you are inside them. And some people only remain real as long as someone remembers to write them down.

Maybe that is all this ever was. A story trying not to disappear.

Thank you for reading. I hope you enjoyed this short horror story. Comment below.

In the world of creativity and expression, every detail matters. The stationery and crochet handbags I cherish, the journals filled with thoughts, and the candles that flicker with intention all weave together to create a tapestry of inspiration. Each handcrafted item holds a story, waiting to be told.