Riding the Night Mare
Audio Short Horror Story:
Do you hear it? Do you hear it too? Do you hear that, which lies beneath? Do you hear her squeak?
I’ve put a recorder under the bed. I have to prove what has been done to my poor roommate, or they’ll think I’ve had something to do with his death, because I was jealous. I’ve studied chemistry a long time ago, I know how to take your breath away. And who would believe this squeaking urban legend, told by a freaky old bum? No, I have to prove what’s still going on here, night after night, or they’ll at least think I’m nuts, and put me in an asylum.
And you too, you too don’t hear him, do you? No, you don’t. There’s only her voice.
Okay, okay, you can’t hear him, he isn’t here anymore. With us. But she isn’t here either. And you do hear her. Sounds crazy, isn’t it? And yet, these are the facts.
No, my poor friend isn’t anymore, but he doesn’t rest in peace, hell no! He’s still making that damn’ mattress squeak like hell. Do you hear it? Each spring responds independently to his weight above, while he is riding the Night Mare. Do you hear her? Squeak?
And no, you can’t hear him, but you can hear her moan and groan! Be quiet, and listen, and you will hear her, I assure you! You never see her, but she's here: That Which Lies Beneath – Mattress, his Mistress. And when they’re done, they’re starting all over again, time after time. And you’ll never see her.
My poor roommate didn’t have the money to buy him a new bed and a new mattress, so he went to the dusty pawnshop in the oldest part of this dirty old town. ‘Ride the Night Mare!’ the sign said.
He should have known better. He was a student, medieval history. He knew the Night Mare. But the girl was surprisingly young, and beautiful. ‘No!’ she smiled. ‘No, you don’t have a bad back! Only a bad bed!’
My poor roommate just wanted to buy him another mattress, he didn’t need another mistress – and hear them now, hear them now, squeaking. But this really was a hell of a girl, attractive and charming, persuasive and alluring. And she was still smiling at him, hypnotically and arousing.
‘By the way,’ she smiled at him, ‘my name is Lilith. And to put it in the words of good old William Shakespeare, come and follow me now – and ride three o’ nights like the mare!’
He should have known better. A tattoo on her left breast revealed her true identity: ‘Succubus.’ – He had studied Latin, and medieval history. He knew who Lilith was, and what a succubus was all about.
‘Here I have this mattress for you,’ she smiled at him. ‘It’s centuries old; the famous men who slept on it gave it a name. They called the matress their Mistress. Each spring responds independently to your weight above. Do you hear it? Do you hear me squeak?’
And he knew it. He knew a succubus is a female demon, preying on mortal men while they sleep. He knew the name is derived from the Latin word ‘succuba’ or ‘sub cubare’, meaning ‘prostitute’ or ‘that which lies beneath’. He knew this beautiful girl was some sort of a vampire, always changing forms, designed to seduce a man and lead him to eternal damnation.
‘Why don’t we do the test?’ she smiled. ‘Let’s get the mattress to your place and ride the Night Mare!’
‘And I knew it,’ my poor roommate managed to tell me. 'I knew she could drain my life with a kiss, and that she would draw all my energy to sustain herself, and stay forever young. I knew I would have to ride the Night Mare, for three nights and more, until I reached the point of exhaustion, and that she would drink my breath then – and as the breath is a part of a person’s spirit, that she would steal my soul.’
He knew it, as I know that when I give in, she also will drink my breath… to death.
Wanna Eat You - Graffiti & Blackout Poetry Collage
Performance License Stage Play:
"Riding the Night Mare" may be used in its entirety, in adaptation or in any other way for theatrical productions, only with permission from the Lost Dutchman. Professionals and amateurs are hereby warned that this monologue is subject to a royalty, and is fully protected under the copyright laws of all countries covered by the Berne Convention.
The monologue was inspired by a soundtrack recorded by "cognito perceptu" (credits: see audio short horror story, where the track is used).
Blackout Poetry: "Come Into My Bedroom"
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