[HIDE NOTICE] We're doing a site re-write and re-launch soon! Check our Twitter for updates, join us on Telegram or Discord!
![[Y]](img/icons/fiction.png)
Welcome to the Furry Fiction ArchiveBrowse new stories or search for one below. | ||||
|
![[Y]](img/icons/fiction.png)
0 Comments
0 Votes 0 Favourites
Sexuality N/A
Submitted On Feb4/09 Hits 1567 Summary:
The violence of one's past can always come calling. In our dreams we are always most vulnerable. This is one story of Torm's struggle with otherwordly forces.
|
![[Y]](img/icons/fiction.png)
The Struggle
“Every night it’s the same... I sleep, I dream, I suffer, I scream. I wake... He’s getting stronger. I feel it every day, like someone holding a pillow against where my mind would have to breathe from. It’s stifling me! The very presence of it... How do you fight something that has access to every single memory you possess?”
Torm listened intently for the answer at the other end of the line, but he knew all he would get was silence. Truth was, he wasn’t actually talking to anyone but for some reason, holding the phone to his ear and speaking made things just a tiny bit better for a while. The illusion of communication was soothing in its own right, true or not. Slowly, he set the phone down and made his way to the bed, the stage from which his tortures always began in earnest. As he removed his clothing, he recalled all the things he’d tried over the y...
“Every night it’s the same... I sleep, I dream, I suffer, I scream. I wake... He’s getting stronger. I feel it every day, like someone holding a pillow against where my mind would have to breathe from. It’s stifling me! The very presence of it... How do you fight something that has access to every single memory you possess?”
Torm listened intently for the answer at the other end of the line, but he knew all he would get was silence. Truth was, he wasn’t actually talking to anyone but for some reason, holding the phone to his ear and speaking made things just a tiny bit better for a while. The illusion of communication was soothing in its own right, true or not. Slowly, he set the phone down and made his way to the bed, the stage from which his tortures always began in earnest. As he removed his clothing, he recalled all the things he’d tried over the y...
Post Comment