The House Of Dreams
All was quiet at number fifty-four Emerald Court. The lights had all been turned off, as had the televisions, computers and other electronics used by the family. MR Jones laid snoring, dreams of brown liquid in bottles, tall women in tight dresses and small bags of green herbs fuelling his night-time pleasure. MRS Jones lay beside him, a pillow over her head to block out the chainsaw she slept with and extra blankets covering her to hide the hurt. She dreamt of safety. A house behind stone walls, two big dogs and a steel gate to lock at night. Their daughter Sophie was stuck in a nightmare, harsh words and violence keeping her trapped. Her brother dreamt of soccer balls and trophies. Of happy family times and bike rides with friends. The house was silent. Battered and too tired to dream. It did have a wish though, for smooth walls and doors set right on hinges that didn’t squeak. For tonight it would rest until tomorrow, where new troubles would lie. For tonight it would remain a house of dreams until it would become the house of horrors once more.