Doctor Paris Shepard was running, her breath coming in ragged gasps, her heart thundering in her chest. She could feel the sweat mixing with the blood that covered her entire body, sticky and warm against her skin. The screams echoed from the distance, mingling with monstrous moans and groans that sent chills down her spine. The darkness around her seemed to pulse with malevolence, and the oppressive weight of fear filled her mind.

She didn’t dare look behind her.

The feeling that something was following her, something hungry and relentless, gnawed at her sanity. She pushed herself to run faster, her muscles burning with the effort, her lungs screaming for air. The landscape around her was a blur, shadows twisting and writhing at the edges of her vision, but she couldn’t afford to slow down.

To slow down would mean death.

Her foot caught on something unseen, and she went sprawling to the ground, her hands scraping against the rough surface beneath her. Panic surged through her as she scrambled to get back up, but it was too late. She felt a cold, strong grip close around her ankle, yanking her back. She screamed, kicking and thrashing, but the hold was unyielding. It tore through her clothes, finally making it through her skin, and she felt a sharp, searing pain as something ripped into her flesh.

The pain was unlike anything she had ever experienced, a horrific agony that blotted out everything else. Blood spurted from the wound, hot and slick, and she could feel bits of her flesh being torn away, the creature’s teeth or claws—she couldn’t tell which—rending her apart. Her screams grew louder, raw and filled with terror, but she couldn’t see what was attacking her. It was as if her mind refused to process the horror before her, blocking her from seeing the creature that was ending her life.

Tears streamed down her face, mixing with the blood and sweat, as she felt herself being devoured. The creature was relentless, ripping through her skin, her muscles, tearing her insides apart. The pain was unbearable, and she could feel her strength slipping away, her life ebbing with each bite. She knew she was close to death, could feel it creeping over her like a shroud.

The creature finally stopped, leaving her broken and bloody on the ground. She could feel the buzzards circling above, could hear their harsh cries as they descended upon her. Her vision blurred, and darkness began to close in around her. What felt like hours passed, though it could have been mere moments, and she took her last, shuddering breath.

Paris woke with a start, her body drenched in sweat, her heart pounding wildly in her chest. She was tangled in her silky sheets, the bed soaked with the evidence of her terror. She lay there for a moment, panting, trying to convince herself that it had just been a dream. Just a nightmare. She was safe. She was alive. But the fear lingered, a cold, gnawing presence at the back of her mind.

She wiped at her tear-streaked face, her hands trembling. She could still feel the phantom pain of the creature’s attack, the horrific sensation of her flesh being torn apart. It had felt so real, so vivid. She shuddered, trying to shake off the lingering dread. It was just a dream, she reminded herself. A horrible, terrifying dream. But even as she tried to calm herself, she had a feeling that something was terribly wrong.

Paris shook off the remnants of the nightmare and forced herself out of bed. She ran a hand through her short, curly hair, trying to dismiss the lingering sense of dread. It was just a dream, she repeated to herself once again. Just a horrible, vivid dream. She took a deep breath and focused on the day ahead. Her work at the Specter Research Facility was her sanctuary, a place where logic and science reigned supreme.

She went through her morning routine with mechanical precision: a hot shower to wash away the cold sweat, a simple breakfast to fuel her mind, and a quick glance in the mirror as she dressed in her lab coat. Her reflection was a stark contrast to the horror she'd just endured in her dream. Tall and slim, with caramel skin and short, curly hair, Doctor Paris Shepard was as beautiful as she was brilliant. Her peers often referred to her as Einstein's spawn, a nod to her unmatched intelligence and her countless achievements. From winning every science fair in grade school to earning a Nobel Prize, her accolades were a testament to her genius. Her home office was a shrine to her accomplishments, filled with trophies and awards that spoke volumes.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

After grabbing a coffee from her favorite café, she noticed that her neighbor, Mr. Hawkins, wasn't taking his usual morning run. He always waved goodbye to her as she headed to work. She paused, momentarily worried, but quickly dismissed any concerns. The neighborhood was eerily quiet, but she brushed it off, eager to immerse herself in her work and forget about the nightmare.

Upon arriving at the Specter Research Facility, a remote stronghold hidden deep within a forest of dense, encroaching trees, she was greeted by the usual hustle and bustle. The lab's dimly lit corridors were alive with the hum of machinery and the clatter of hurried footsteps, as scientists and researchers moved about, engrossed in their complex projects. But today, something felt off. As she entered the lobby, the air thick with a sense of unease, she was met with the sight of Dr. Devo, one of the facility's esteemed researchers, in a heated argument with security.

"You won't get away with this! Fire me!" Doctor Devo shouted, his face red with anger. It was unlike him to cause a scene. He was known for his quiet, reclusive nature.

As he stormed out, he glanced at Paris, his eyes wild with urgency. "They're lying to us. You need to leave this place before it's too late," he whispered, sending a shiver down her spine. Lying to us? What did he mean? She trusted doctor Devo, and his warning left her shaken.

Determined to find answers, Paris hurried to her lab. The nightmare's chilling echoes began to flutter through her mind, sending goosebumps down her spine. The hallways buzzed with hushed conversations and hurried footsteps, an unusual tension hanging in the air. What was going on here?

Finally, she reached her lab and closed the door behind her. On her desk was a folder and a box from Doctor Devo. Her heart raced as she reached for the box, wondering what secrets it held. Just as she began to open it, a sudden crash echoed through the hallways, followed by bloodcurdling screams.

Paris dropped the box and ran to the door. The sight that greeted her was a scene from her worst nightmare. Blood splattered the walls, and her colleagues screamed, "Run! Get out!" Terror gripped her as the metallic scent of blood filled the air, mingling with the panicked cries of the injured.

Frozen in place, she felt the same fear from her nightmare wash over her. The blood, the fear in her coworkers' eyes—it was all too real. Breaking out of her paralysis, she ran back to her lab and grabbed the box and folder from doctor Devo, stuffing them into her suitcase. She had no idea what she was carrying, but instinct told her it was important.

As she tried to escape, the facility's alarms blared, adding to the chaos. Paris navigated the carnage, dodging fallen bodies and overturned equipment. The nightmarish scene was almost too much to bear, but she pressed on, driven by a desperate need to survive and uncover the truth.

With her heart pounding and fear clawing at her every step, Paris finally reached an emergency exit. She burst through the doors, gulping in the fresh air, her mind reeling. The nightmare had come to life, and she was now living it. Whatever secrets doctor Devo had left her, she knew they were her only hope of making sense of the horror that had consumed her world.

As Paris calmed herself, the tranquility lasted scarcely a moment. She turned back toward the facility, and her breath caught in her throat. Her eyes widened in horror at the sight before her: zombies, grotesque and monstrous, tearing through the flesh of her colleagues. The creatures fed ravenously, their growls mingling with the agonized screams of the dying. Blood pooled and splattered, painting the scene with nightmarish intensity.

Paris stumbled back, her mind reeling. The nightmare had been a vision, a cruel premonition of the hellish reality that now surrounded her. Panic surged through her veins as she realized the truth. This was no dream; this was her world now.

She turned and ran, her heart pounding, her breath ragged. The facility, once a bastion of scientific progress, was now a charnel house. Desperation clawed at her as she fled, the box and folder from doctor Devo clutched tightly in her grasp. What secrets did they hold? Would they save her or condemn her?

Her nightmare flashed vividly in her mind. Was this it for her? Would she meet the same gruesome fate she had envisioned? As the chaos and terror closed in, one question loomed above all: Would she unlock the secrets that could save her, or was her death already written in the stars?