Colin Strider was dreaming. Again. This recurring dream had been gnawing away at his mind for the past month now. A blur of images clambered through his mind, clouded with what seemed to be dense, black smoke, most barely conceivable or visible; a metallic skull with glowing red eyes grinned at Colin through the smoke as a robotic hand, steam-punk in design, crawled at him through the dense fog like a spider, whistling with vapour as it's metal talons clicked and whirred.
A cloaked figure stood, hunched menacingly, little more than a silhouette, with what seemed to be the steam-punk hand attached to its right arm. The monstrous form strode towards Colin in the dream to reveal scaly skin, fangs and a impossibly long forked tongue that writhed its way through his mind like a nightmarish snake.
The words "I'm coming" rasped and echoed through the fog and the figure disappeared.
The dream had arrived every night that month and Colin would be jolted awake at that point every time without fail.
When Colin awoke, it was midnight- what seemed to be the default time of Colin's awakening from the dream. He was glistening with sweat, his hazel eyes wild, and his longish, brown hair everywhere and nowhere at once. Colin rubbed his face and sighed, swinging his legs to the side of his bed. He sat in despair. This dream was haunting him like a hidden demon, playing with his mind every night, tempting him into madness.
He had an idea and rose out of bed, his legs shaking, and turned to his computer, switching it on at the tower. He sat on the chair to his computer desk, and double checked his speakers were off; he didn't want to wake his parents. He waited for the familiar hum of the fan and his eyes squinted through the glare of the computer. He turned to the internet as soon as the chance rose.
Glancing at the Google search bar, he typed "recurring nightmares" and pressed "Enter."
A huge amount of entries cluttered the page. Colin scanned one of them, "...some believe they are messages from the gods, giving you advice or glimpses of the future."
Bull, thought Colin. He added another word to the search; "cures." Another massive page of entries flashed across the screen. Colin read one of them at random.
"...sleeping backwards or with your feet uncovered has often been proved effective."
Colin sighed. Superstitious crap, he thought. I'll never get the stinking dream out of my head.
He lay down in his bed once more, and tried desperately to get to sleep again.
When the fog of sleep finally descended on him, it was 5:30am. He awoke, one hour later, with huge bags under his eyes.
After a half-hour lie in (he felt like he deserved it) he trundled slowly downstairs and into the kitchen, where he found his Dad, large and shaven headed, sitting at the kitchen table, reading the latest newspaper. He was wearing a blue suit and tie that was desperate for a good iron.
"You're getting taller every day," he said, his eyes rising over the broadsheet.
"Lucky me," Colin mumbled, exhausted, as he made himself some toast. Monday mornings always gave him the grumbles, doubly so after a nightmare like his.
"And his voice deeper," nodded his Mum, appearing at the door behind him, fully washed and dressed in a white blouse and jeans and already finishing with yesterday’s laundry. Mary Strider, being an ex-headmistress, believed in strict punctuality and was, therefore, always an early riser.
"Aye," Colin's Dad agreed. Being of Scottish origin, Steve always insisted on using words such as "aye", "wee", and "lass", though having none of the accent whatsoever.
"He's turning into a real man, like me self."
"Real men," retorted Colin smugly. "Don't own publishing companies, Dad."
His Dad "harrumphed", but chuckled good-naturedly and looked back to his paper. It was almost tradition for Colin to insult his Dad slightly on a school morning. Smiling slightly, Colin set his toast down and reached for the jam.
He devoured his toast, and then headed for the shower. The flowing, hot water all but drowned out the nightmare. Funny, really, how something as trivial as hot water can just wash out tiredness and bad dreams.
Slightly more cheerful, he dressed in his school uniform. Black trousers, white shirt and an ugly tie, maroon and yellow coloured.
He opened his curtains revealing the street below and the sky above. October was ending, and winter was on its way, so the sky was grey and the air cruel.
He threw on his thin, green school sweatshirt and his, thicker, black zip-up hooded jumper. He loved that jumper, better than a raincoat, and it never failed to look good on him, no matter what he was wearing underneath.
Colin grabbed his towel and ruffled his hair with it vigorously, but his hair still hung damp. He slipped his mobile phone into his pocket and clambered into his shoes. Grabbing his bag and homework, he scarpered down the stairs and fled out the front door, pausing only to say goodbye to his parents.
Once outside, Colin checked his watch (a posh Rolex he received for his thirteenth birthday). Quarter to eight. He smiled. Right on time.
He strolled down the sloping road of Adams Crescent, and up into the driveway of the detached house directly to the right of his. He rang the doorbell, and waited.
Within moments, the door swung open and the girl of Colin's dreams stood perfectly in the doorway.
"Right on time," she smiled, repeating his earlier thoughts.
"I strive for punctuality," Colin replied, and grinned when she laughed.
Rachel Davies had been Colin's best friend for as long as they could both remember. She was lovely, slim and very pretty- her chocolate brown hair usually flowed simply onto her shoulders and down to her back, her small nose was adorned with freckles and her eyes were deep brown. Colin had fancied her, of course, for years now, they had lived next door since before he could remember, and there was inkling at the back of his mind that told him he had fallen in love. He hadn't been in love before, so he didn't know for sure.
Rachel was fickle. Colin almost knew that she liked him back, but tried to dismiss this as simple arrogance that needed to be abolished. But still, he could tell. There was something- but Rachel wouldn’t act on it. Was she waiting on Colin to make the first move? He was privy to coy smiles and winks from Rachel- in a way they infuriated him, but on the other hand maybe this was a good sign? Maybe she was encouraging him?
"Anything to report?" said Rachel smiling, snapping Colin out of his wishful thoughts.
"Ballisters got a new book." said Colin. Ballisters was the publishing company that Colin's Dad owned. "Some sci-fi thing; looks pretty cool."
"Sweet, I'll check it out," smiled Rachel.
"It's got aliens in it."
"No way."
"Uh-huh. Scary ones."
Rachel laughed a heart-warming laugh and Colin beamed to himself.
As they talked and walked to school, a dark figure watched them from a distance. A dark figure that shouldn't have been watching them. The atrocity had scaly skin and a metal left hand. The hand fingered a walkie-talkie and the figure rasped into it.
"Target acquired." He smiled an evil, crooked, sharp-teethed smile, and followed them with discreet precision.
I think you just need a little more practice! Firstly, watch out for typos and missed words. I only noticed a couple, so it would be worth reading it back very carefully, or even out loud. 
) story. 
