It was a nice town. It was small, with a population of four hundred and sixty-seven people, but I liked it there. It was quiet and peaceful, and a nice change of pace from the busy streets of New York. My parents decided to move here when the rent on our apartment got to be too much to handle. My family wanted this, and so did I.

For a month or so, everything was great. I started making some new friends, and unlike my last school, I didn’t get messed with. It seemed there was no bullying here. My teachers seemed pretty nice as well, my favorite being Mr. Magdalene, my English teacher. He was a good teacher, and a nice man. Sometimes I liked eating my lunch in his room and talking with him.

But after that month was up, things started to change. First, I started having these nightmares. I was always in a blank white room, and I couldn’t move. I then started to feel long slender fingers going up and down my back. Up and down, up and down. Then I just woke up. It’s so simple, but it never ceased to terrify me. After that, my friends started to not hang out with me any more. Every day I went back to school, I felt more and more alone. Eventually, I sat alone at a lunch table, keeping to myself.

Then my parents started fighting. It got worse and worse, and each time, I could feel them separating as partners. By the end of the school year, my suspicions came true, and they divorced. My mom was the one who filed the divorce, so naturally, I wanted to stand by my dad more.

As for the nightmare, every time I had it, it got worse and worse. It lasted longer with every pass, and the nails of the fingers going deeper into my back every time.

One night, when I was on my laptop, I decided to search up the nightmare I was having and see if anybody else was having it as well. There was one thing about it, filed January 15th, 2006. Almost seven years ago.

The post read of a man, having the same problems as me. He said there was nothing else he could find about it, and that the dreams got worse and worse for him. This wasn't the part that scared me. It also said that he started to see hallucinations that became more real each time. This made me extremely paranoid, and I couldn’t fall asleep for another two hours.

It was about a week after that, and I was glad, because the nightmare stopped for a little while but that night, my dad was out drinking and I was home alone. I was watching TV when it happened. I felt the fingers going down my back, this time worse than ever before.

It felt like they were ripping through my skin. I screamed and panicked, running for the home phone. I called him, shaking and ended up mis-dialing several times. Once I got him on the phone, he was drunk and babbling incoherent sentences. I screamed at him to get home as soon as he could, but he just told me that he didn’t want to, and hung up.

I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t call my mom because she blocked my dad’s number, and I didn’t think about the police because I wasn’t thinking straight. I slowly walked up my stairs, more scared than I've ever been in my life, and started making my way into my bedroom.

The surge of adrenaline made me forget everything else going on, but when I came back to my senses, my back started to ache badly. I went in to the bathroom, already knowing what was coming. I took off my shirt, and put my back at an angle so that I could see it through the mirror.

There were three scratch marks, so deep that you could see the bone, dripping with blood. My back and shirt were completely soaked red. I panicked again, and fell on the floor crying.

The door was closed, and I looked up just in time to see it slowly open. All I saw was a long finger, coming towards me. After that, I don’t remember what happened. When I came to, I was in a hospital. My parents never visited me.

When I got out, I went straight to my house. I knocked on the door I screamed, "Dad, it’s me!"

"I’m sorry, do I know you?"