Sweet Dreams by William W. Johnstone

long-abandoned railroad track, something stirred. Red eyes stared into the night. A slimy substance leaked from a misshapen body.
    Lisa staggered toward the canvas which loomed wet and dusty tan in the dark of the starless night.
    She paused to get her bearings. A dozen double Scotches had so saturated her system it was a miracle she was able to function at all. The world spun around her.
    She staggered and stumbled toward the canvas. She thought she heard someone laughing. She stopped and turned toward the sound. Only darkness greeted her. That and almost total silence.
    A ball of light suddenly appeared, glowing at the edge of the woods. As she walked toward the bobbing glow, the light moved closer. She thought it was someone with a flashlight. She called out to the light.
    The light stopped.
    Now the laughter came from behind her. She spun around, fear clutching at her. “Who is it?” she called out. “Who are you?”
    She thought she heard the words, “Come to me.”
    She turned around. The light was even closer. Lisa began to back up. Fear grew within her, closing her throat. Sweat streaked her face and dotted her thin evening gown. The heel of one shoe broke and she kicked both shoes off.
    â€œMine,” she heard a voice clearly speak the word. “Mine, now.”
    A scream finally ripped from Lisa’s fear-swollen throat. She spun around as fingers touched the bare flesh of her shoulder, and she stood, numbed by shock and fear of what presented itself before her.
    She didn’t know what it was.
    It was a man; but then it was not a man. It had arms and legs that were twisted, hideously deformed. Its head was huge; three times the size of a normal human head. Its face was a curious brown color, mottled with patches of yellow and green. The creature’s eyes, set under a bulging forehead, were red and evil and large, with tiny black dots in their centers. Its nose was nooked, bent to one side, while the cruelty of its mouth was enhanced by widely spaced, pointed teeth. Its chin was long and pointy, with a patch of hair directly in the center. This monster’s large head was covered with a mop of long shaggy black hair.
    The creature was naked. Its body was muscular yet grotesque, slick with some sort of fluid. An outer skin clung loosely to its frame, hanging from it like that of a snake half in and half out of its shedding.
    A thought penetrated Lisa’s fear: Just born. The thing had just ripped out of the womb.
    Lisa had spent too many hours assisting in deliveries not to recognize the sight of something newborn.
    But what in God’s name could have birthed something this hideous?
    And why?
    Reality tore through her paralyzing fear. She screamed and ran from the creature. She ran toward the bobbing, pulsating light. Behind her, the creature lumbered forward in pursuit, laughing as it came. Its voice was eerie. Not of this world.
    The bobbing light suddenly shifted and sprang in front of Lisa. It charged her, seeming to hold her captive with some sort of hypnotic power. She looked at the light and within its complicated depths saw the father and mother of the creature that had confronted her. She saw half a dozen births and deaths within the confines of the circle of light. The circle was growing, as if gaining strength from Lisa’s nearness. Now a thousand stories were depicted in the circle of light. There were scenes of madness and magic, of depravity and horrible torture, of sexual debauchery and human sacrifice. They spanned hundreds of years. Within the globe of pulsing light, Lisa saw animals that were long extinct. She saw races of people no modern-day human eyes had ever viewed.
    She saw fear and loathing and selfishness and greed and hypocrisy.
    And she saw herself.
    She began screaming.
    She wanted to run, but could not. Some invisible force was holding her in place. She felt the cool night air touch her body as the creature behind her tore the clothing from