Day 26: Nightmare

Late nights envelope me in their insomnia
Nightmares clutch their out stretch claws
We're going to make your dreams a living Hell
They say as they whisper black magic into my ears
Don't even try to lucid dream
I listen to the calm of your voice through the phone
I only know that you are real
Everything else is but a nightmare
But even you can't save me from my insecurity
I haven't felt you in so long
I'm becoming warped in illusions
No one answers to my questions
When will I stop being haunted by psychopaths?
How long will I remain afraid?
Am I dreaming?

Day 11: Hell

From just within my hearing, the news anchor on channel 10 is panicking. You know the world is about to end when a news reporter stops speaking in that nonchalant way they always do, “Yesterday, a mother drowned her baby.” They would announce as if merely stating an obvious fact that the sky is blue and that grass is green.

‘Since early this morning, there has been a global attack on civilians by what seems to be zombies. Apparently, once you’re bitten you will also become infected. It has been declared a pandemic.’

The staff crowd around the television, whispering buzzes of concern and excitement. Trust university researchers to find an epidemic exciting. I watch from the corner of my eye as Phil continues working on his thesis. He has a severe case of workaholicism. Not a real word. But it should be.

Phil is a true sceptic. His philosophy, “Nothing is proven real until I see it with my own eyes.’ I hope we don’t get the chance to see the zombies. Our university is a private research institute that values privacy from the public. Our campus is surrounded by a thick brick wall and steal enforced gate that can only be opened through key cards. So we’re safe for now. 

‘I bet it was the Chinese.’

I return my attention to the Vice-Chancellor. He came to the science department this morning demanding our attention. He has been speaking none stop since he walked through that door.

‘Sorry?’

‘I bet the Chinese are at fault. They’re always up to something, inventing crazy contraptions.’

I think he’s referring to the Japanese.

‘Sir, that’s Japan.’

‘Or it could be those people up in Israel, Afghanistan. I bet it was the Taliban. Terrorism, I say.’

Images and shaky video recordings of people being eaten alive flicker on the television screen. I think this is something more sinister than terrorism.

‘Vice-Chancellor, I think the terrorists are also suffering from this pandemic.’

The phone rings and I instantly sprint for it. The orange blinking light indicates that the call is coming from the security office. My pulse quickens. This can’t be good. They never call us. I know that it’s regarding the pandemic.

‘Hello, this is Dr Kimmy Khang from the science department.’

I listen intently as the voice from the other end gush words out so furiously that they jumble. All of a sudden, I hear screaming and the line dies with that hollowing beep-beep-beep. I drop the phone, hearing it crash into oblivion onto the tiles like my heart that died with the screams of the security guards.

‘They’re here. The pandemic has breached our gates.’

A hush falls upon the office as people slowly digest the news. Silently, I pray to a God I never once believed in. But it’s too late; Hell has come to greet the living. We are that Hell. Humanity created Hell. 

Day 9: Missing Person

Note: My attempt at a conventional ghost story

Missing. Her black and white eyes stare back at mine with an almost hollow expression. Missing: Ella Harris, 23 years old. Please call 0462216611. The missing person’s posters have been plastered on every wall, shop front window and light pole. Her parents could have chosen a better photograph. Her lips are unsmiling as though she had predicted her situation. Where is she now? People have been whispering prayers under their breaths, “God bless her soul. The poor girl must have died.”

‘They say that if you walk alone at night, you can see her ghost.’

‘Well then, you better not miss this bus, Alice.’

I drag Alice on board the 804 as the sun starts to set behind Parramatta’s tall skyscrapers. Work had gone over time. Patients arrived to appointments late again. We had a patient even arrive half-an-hour late but Johnny still treated them. He’s too nice for his own good sometimes. He’s a good doctor.

Alice slumps into her seat, letting out a long sigh of protest, ‘Come on Haley. Just because you haven’t seen a ghost doesn’t mean they don’t exist.’ I flick Alice a tired look, we’ve been discussing this topic on and off for weeks. More frequently since the media has been hyping up Ella’s disappearance. Maybe her body was butchered and the remains were scattered? Maybe she eloped? Maybe she was an undercover agent and Ella Harris never existed?

‘Ghosts don’t exist. It’s illogical and defies all laws of physics.’

‘You’re such a med student, it’s not funny.’

‘I feel sorry for the parents though. There’s speculation that Ella was abducted and killed.’

Alice crosses herself and whispers a silent prayer, ‘Only God knows what happened to her. Thousands of people go missing a year. Where do they go?’

Where do they go? Where do people go when they go missing?

‘Okay, it’s my stop. Good night. You should take a nap but don’t oversleep and miss your stop like last time. It gets dark so quickly now.’

‘Good night.’

I exchange a quick hug with my colleague and curl myself into the back seat, getting as comfortable as possible, an aging public bus could allow. The sun is completely gone now and Venus is peaking from behind the willow-wisping clouds. My eyes flicker from telephone pole to telephone pole. Ella’s eyes keeps staring back at mine from the posters, almost hypnotically.

Missing.

Missing.

Missing.

I open my eyes to the dim lit bus. Groggily I squint out the window. It’s pitch black outside. I swing my head around, no passengers. Alone. I’m alone with the exception of the driver. I missed my stop. Crap. With my heart pounding in my wrist, I hit the stop button and jump out the bus. Outside, I’m embraced by the cold air and the green and brown of trees. In the distance ahead, I recognise the dark blue sign of the Metro petrol station. I let out a sigh of relief which puffs into the air. Bonnyrigg. I’m about twenty minutes walking distance away from home. Good. I can do this.

Turning my back to the safety of the petrol station’s lights, I begin my trek home. My legs make long strides along the footpath with my shadow my only companion. I jump at the sound of something rustling. Tree leaves? A paper bag rolling in grass? I stare ahead as I walk. It’s nothing. I’m fine. It’s nothing.

As I approach a bridge, I see a silhouette. I tighten my grip on my handbag. Is it a person? As I come closer to the figure, I mentally scold myself. Of course it is a person. A woman. What is she doing standing on a bridge at night? Her long fair hair and dress sways in the wind. She seems almost demonic in her tattered dress that is stained with something blackening, contrasting with the white fabric. Her blue-grey eyes lock onto mine. I recognise her.

Ella.

‘Oh God, Ella? You’re Ella Harris, right? Are you all right? Where have you been, everyone has been searching for you.’

I pull out bandages from my handbag and reach out to her. I grab onto air. She’s intangible. What? My hands shake as I stare into her empty eyes. The same eyes from the posters. They say if you walk alone at night, you can see her ghost.

‘Say something, please. Where have you been?’

Ella stretches out her left arm, pointing to the creek that runs underneath the bridge. She finally speaks. An eerie reply, ‘I’ve been laying there waiting for someone to find me.’ I watch, stupefied as she fades away. I don’t dare lean over the stone railing. I’m afraid of what I would find. Instead, I run across the street and keep on running until I see the headlights of an approaching bus and desperately hail the bus driver. When my heart finally stops bashing against my ribcage, I dial 000.

“I found Ella Harris.” 

Invasion

Cigarette smoke slithers inside my earlobe.
 He says, 'I know you're afraid.'
Blood pools between my lips and down my thighs.
I refuse to give him a reply.
Escape is a matter of mind.
He won't exist outside my acknowledgement.
But it's too late.
He is toxic like nuclear waste.
Like a syringe stabbed into my arm,

he invades my veins.
He is everywhere.
And I am driven out of my body.
An out of body experience.
I'm floating, intangible.
My screams can't be heard.
My pain can't be felt.
Invisible.
Silent victim.

Corpse Bride

Strangled throat with red hand marks.
Tear stained cheeks and blotched mascara.
Hollowed eye sockets, searching for an escape.
I’m a skeleton bride walking down the aisle.
Decaying skin peels for wriggling maggots.
White boned hands grasping on a thin thread.
There is something suffocating,
about a chained ring finger.
Inescapable. Unbreathable.
Noose hangs from my neck.
I can’t breathe through your hold on me.
Feels like I’m the walking dead.
Or I have been buried alive.
Bloodied nails clawing at unopened casket.
I’m screaming but I can’t be heard.
Chewed up tongue lost between brittle teeth.
Speak now or forever hold your peace.

Questioning

When I wake up from nightmares, I am at my most vulnerable state. I am weak, shivering, shaking, terrified, angry, lost, confused and relieved. I am every emotion imaginable yet really I am just one: fear. It consumes me. My every nerve, every pore, every fragile heart beat.

I whisper chants in my head until it hurts. I am safe. I am safe. I am safe. It was just a dream. It was just a dream. But no matter how many times I repeat that mantra, my body is rooted to my bed. I am frozen, shell-shocked. The world spins off it's axis. Everything is not alright.

When I wake up from nightmares, I am at my most vulnerable. I question people. I question myself. I question humanity. Because in my nightmares, people are always at their worst. They kill, they lie, they torture for the fun of it, they commit adultery, people cry and yet people still die. What compels one to kill while another to save? What drives people to the point of no return? Where they are doomed to be enslaved in Hell? Why would they make such a choice? What makes people do the most stupid things?

This morning, when I woke up I questioned myself. Why would I go to the one place I hate the most on Earth? The one place that I'm at my weakest? Why would I willingly go to the place I fear the most in the world just to chase after someone that didn't want me? It's so stupid. But I must have loved him a lot.

Sometimes, I hate the mornings. Being a morning person means I'm awake when everyone is still alseep. That means when I wake up from nightmares, there's nobody there. And I wonder how long until I find someone to wake up to?

Hostage

We were being held hostage by a psychotic terrorist.
It didn't even have to be us. We held no political value. We were simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. It was my parents' 20th anniversary. They had booked the entire Sydney tower buffet restaurant to accommodate all our family and friends. We sat shivering in our seats as he walked up and down rows of tables, bellowing his hatred for the legal system, the government.

It was only one man. It was only one man causing utter fear in a group of three hundred people. I flicked my eyes over at my shaking grandparents on the opposite table. It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair that such elderly people had to be put under such emotional distress. Slowly, I raise my right hand, praying to God, any God up in heaven that it wouldn't get blasted right off my wrist, 'Excuse me, Sir....' His head spun at the sound of my voice, his flickering eyes watched my lips, he pointed his machine gun at me, 'What? Speak loud and clear; don't shout or you'll hurt my ears and I'll be forced to shoot your tongue off.'

I held your hand, underneath the dining table for support and raised my voice, hoping it wouldn't waiver, 'Please sir, is it possible to let the elderly go?' I was surprised when he let his hand drop and grinned broadly. He raised his free hand and patted my head. I bit down my tongue to stop myself from trembling at his touch. I watched as he stepped away from me then pointed at my proudly, as though a teacher proud of his student, 'Now this, everyone is an example of a good upstanding citizen. They pay their taxes on time, they help elderly people walk across the road' Suddenly, he was no longer smiling, he thrust his gun down my throat. I blinked back tears and shook my head ferociously as you stood up in protest. He pointed the gun at your heart, 'Sit the fuck down, lover boy!'

He cleared his throat and continued to point the gun at me, 'This' he continued, 'Is an example of an idiot who does everything because it is "right". They blindly follow the laws of the corrupted government without questioning their actions. Does that sound right to you?' We all shook our heads. He raised his voice even louder, 'What is also not right is the fact that you spent thousands of dollars to eat in a "classy" restaurant just because it is high up in the air while out there are millions of people suffering from poverty and injustice!' He pulled out a beeping remote from his jacket and smiled sadly, 'Sorry folks, I'm burning this whole tower to the ground with everyone in it. The government needs to understand it is wasting money on such pointless expenses.'

I cried into your shoulder as you held me tightly. I could feel the hatred, anger and fear in the heat of your arms. Everyone around us also finally broke down. What little hope we had of surviving this ordeal was finally thrown out the window of this revolving restaurant. We were being held hostage by a psychotic terrorist.  And he had no plans of letting anyone live. We were always meant to die.

Guilty

We can't win.
Everything we say is being laughed at.
They're secretly crows or kookaburras in disguise.
And we fell right into their traps. Hook line and sinker.
We're mannequins out on display but this is not beautiful in anyway.
It is ugly, humiliating and frightening.
Their faces says it all.
We're being accused of a crime we never committed and there is no trial.
No jury to listen to our pleas.
No neutral judge to decide wisely.
Nothing.
We're guilty of a crime we would never commit.
And no one is listening.

Experiment

Note: dream inspired (Yeah, my dreams are out to get me once again)
- - - - - - -

    I wake up to my unmoving body. Everything is blurry like I’m waking up to a thick un-dissolving fog. I try to focus my eyes on my surroundings. I shake my head ferociously and objects start to appear in my vision. I’m strapped and tied down to a make-shift operating table. There are syringes, scissors and beakers half full of purplish concoctions on metallic rolling tables.

    The room is dark and reeks of blood, tears and other undefinable chemicals. I stretch my neck and notice that there is an unconscious person on the other side of the wall. I know her. Oh God, isn’t she the little girl I helped carry back home, this morning? Where’s her grandfather? Is it even still Monday? 

    I bite off the straps around my wrist and bolt up. I tumble off and knock into the rolling table. There is a throbbing pain in my left arm. A needle is inserted half-way up my arm. Fucking fantastic. They drugged me up with God knows what. Someone is hammering nails on the inside of my skull. My throat is as dry as shredded sand paper that’s been road killed a million times. My fingers shake. Evidently, I’ve had blood loss. So not only they injected mixtures of fabricated chemicals into my system but also stole my blood until I’m faint. 

This day can’t get any worse.

    I crawl along the wall, holding my head with one hand and trying to see with the other. After what felt like a universe away, I reach the girl. She is a fragile ten- year old. If I couldn’t see the needle up her arm, I would have thought she’s sleeping. No, she’s just heavily drugged up. This is all so surreal like a schizophrenic high on dopamine. 

    I can’t remember how we got here. I recall taking my morning jog and encountering the girl and her grandfather along the footpath. She fainted and he was trying to lift her up into his arms…. Oh God, what if he wasn’t her grandfather? What if he is the mastermind behind this elaborate nightmare and somehow I got dragged into it like a twisted vortex? It doesn’t matter anymore. It doesn’t matter how we ended up in this situation but we are definitely getting out.

    I gently carry her onto my back and we slowly make it to the door. It is strangely unlocked. It turns under my hand. And we step into the moonlight. This doesn’t make any sense. We’re standing on a balcony. Attached to a tower that is painfully too high above the water. We’re surrounded by nothing but endless ocean for miles away.

‘There is no escape, child.’

    My head spins at the sound of a voice. An elderly man was sitting on a wheelchair on the other end of the balcony. He wasn’t the grandfather from this morning. Who is he? My knees buckle at the accumulating stress. The girl and I collapse onto the cold tiles. I watch as the old man lifts a glass of thick crimson liquid to his mouth. He smirks and stands up. Visibly, stronger and more agile. Blood. Our blood.  He holds up my chin and stares into my petrified eyes, ‘There is no escape.’

There is no escape.

The Drive

 Happy Halloween!
- - - - - - - -

She waits at the side of the road for a lift in the midnight.
The stars dim as he stops his car beside her. She smiles and steps inside.
They don't drive home; they have no destination.
Just merely driving through the rain on that desolate night.
Through that lonely road, they keep on driving.
The creaking of the windshield wiper is their only music.
The radio was broken long ago in an accident.
But it no longer matters, they don't need materialistic devices anymore.
They only need each other. He was her only company.
They were on a never ending journey to no where.
No one can find them when they exist on the borderline of reality.
And come each night to repeat the same journey to the in-between.
They gave up home when they drove away and never looked back.
Now only searching for a place to belong
But they're not going to escape this infinite cycle of de ja vu.

Medusa

I watched as they froze into stone.

I brushed a delicate finger against one stone tooth and stared in horror as it detaches under my touch. The tooth fell onto the tiled floor and burst into oblivion. The sickening sound of bone crashing echoed in my my ears. I could feel the bile rising from my clenching stomach to the top of my throat. I was going to be sick.

In more ways than one.

I rushed to the bathroom mirror. My reflection starred back at me with panicked lines underneath her eyes. She opened her mouth with quivering lips and focused on her teeth. Every single fragile tooth. With shaking fingers, she touched a tooth. It fell into the sink and dissolved into dust.

No.

No. This wasn't supposed to happen. My heart began bashing against my rib cage
as I frantically checked every tooth. One by one, they fell like ashes of hail until I was left with nothing. I collapsed onto the floor with the remains of my teeth cradled between my arms. No. This couldn't be real. This was a horrible dream. It was a nightmare. I pinched my cheeks to wake from this nightmare but something else happened instead.

A cold foreboding shiver ran from my cheeks to the rest of my head to the tips of my toes. I watched helplessly as my body turned to stone. And closed my eyes to the inevitable.

I became nothing.

No escape

Note: I have concluded that my unconscious mind wants me dead. Badly.

- - - - - - -

I was hiding inside my wardrobe. I knew she was coming. She wanted it. She wanted it desperately. And she was going to kill me for it. I squinted at the quivering mobile screen as I pressed numbers quickly. I had to call for help. Katherine.

A sudden sound made my heart drop. An explosion. She blew up the front door. Discretion was definitely not in her vocabulary. I squeezed my eyes shut as I listened to her hysterical laughing, 'Come out, come out. I know you're here. I can almost see blood gushing out your body. It's beautiful art in the making.' I breathed in and out to calm my racing heart. She's crazy. She was enjoying the hunt like a game of Hide-and-seek.

I peered through a crack in the wardrobe. Good, she wasn't in the room. I quietly counted to myself. I needed to get out of the wardrobe, through the back door and into the front lawn. One: open the doors. Two: step out. Three. . .

'I knew you were hiding inside there. So predictable.'

She stood at the side of the wardrobe. She was hiding in a blind spot. I should have realised something was wrong when she became silent. Shit. She grabbed my throat and lifted me into the air. Her fingers dug into my skin, drawing blood. Coughing, I tried to open my eyes and look at her. She was smiling. She was enjoying this too much. It wasn't about the book anymore. She hauled me across the room. I groaned as I hit my head against the wall. I watched her as she licked her bloodied fingers with a wicked smirk. She's a monster.

Clutching the wall, I tried limping away. I needed to get some distance between us. I needed to get out of the house. I'm sure Katherine would be here soon. Glancing behind me, she was merely walking, taking a leisure stroll. Once in the living room, I paused for a second, gawking in disbelief at the missing half of the room. I crawled through the hole and saw an armoured 4wd screech to a stop.

Katherine's father dived out the car and threw me inside. He pulled out an assault rifle and stood between her and the vehicle. I round the window half down and watched in horror as he confronted her. He's suicidal. I shut my eyes and prayed. God, please save us. My body froze at the sound of gunshot. I opened my eyes to a sight that would be remembered forever. Half his brain was splattered on the window. He was dead. I felt something warm drip down my face: blood. I was covered in his blood. He was dead.What was I going to say to Katherine? I'm sorry.

She had captured me.
It was no longer about the book. No longer about plain simple revenge. It was about nothing but cold blood lust. She gave up on her sanity. She stood above me with a gun pointed at my head. She waved it around my body, figuring where would be the most fun to shoot at. Then it clicked. My arms.'Please, let me go. I will give you the book.' She pulled the trigger. Left arm. Right arm. Bang. Bang. I cried out in pain. I couldn't move them, let alone hold back the bleeding. Blood was gushing out my body like a river. Shit. My precious arms. She smiled proudly as she held the trigger, 'Soon, I'll make it so that you'll definitely never will be able to write again.' She pulled the trigger again.

No.

She kept on shooting. Bang. Bang. Both arms. Bullet after bullet. Soon, my arms were like tattered flags. Broken. Bleeding. Frail. Unusable. The more I cried, the more she shot. How far was she going to go with this torture? How long until I bled to death? I clamped down my tongue so hard that I tasted blood. But what was a drop compared to an ocean? My body shook with the convulsions of suppressed fear and pain. I just wanted it all to end already.


I woke up crying.
I ran to the arms of my mother like a child. The last time I did that was when I was six years old.
But fear was greater than embarrassment.

Escape

I had a dream.

In my dreams, I'm always running or trying to escape. We were being hunted down. My family and friends. I didn't know what they wanted but I knew we were in danger.

I had to protect them. The people I loved. But my powers were diminishing.
I was weak. Alex was severely injured. My mother escaped with him to heal his wounds.
We had to get away.

We escaped in my car. My father stayed back to give us time. I was exhausted. I wasn't driving. Too tired. I collapsed in the back seat with Peter and my brother. Peter held me tightly as I slept on his shoulder. We were safe for now.

I woke up with a startled shock:

Who was driving?

Prisoners of war

Note: dream inspired.

- - - - -

Part One

We dragged our feet, one by one while we walked alongside the remaining living corpses. Above our heads, a heavily guarded fortress signified our arrival. Final destination. I clutched tightly at his hand. Scared. From this point on, we were prisoners of war.

Josh gazed gently down at me and gave a firm squeeze of my own hand, ‘I will protect you.’ I smiled at his words but my heart still felt heavy. This was something greater than the both of us. Those that entered Hell, often don’t come back, whole. Our lives were their puppets to control under their hands. God, I pray for the end of our suffering.

We were lead to an open courtyard. Surrounding us from all sides were towers of prison cells. We were tiny ants inside a foreign colony. Guards lined us up in long rows of twenties. I stood beside Josh as tall and dignified as I can. My eyes silently followed the movements of the guards as they inspect every single person. When the warden came to stand in front of me, I bit down my disgust as his large grubby hands roamed my body. As he straightened up, I saw a frightening hunger in his eyes. I let out a breath as he stepped away from me but then he spoke, ‘Strip.’ I flicked a glance towards the surrounding people. No one else had to strip. Why only me? I remained as I was, ‘I refuse to strip. On what basis do you demand further inspection?’ He poked his finger at my chest, evidently enjoying the touch, ‘When I say strip, you strip. No reason needed.’

‘And what if I refuse?’

At my remark, he placed his hand on the top button of my blouse and sneered openly, ‘I will strip you myself.’ My heart dropped, this was as far as my bravery could endure. I quivered under his touch and closed my eyes. Suddenly, I heard a painful snap of broken bones and a scream that wasn’t mine. Hesitantly, I opened my eyes. The warden was on the ground, clutching at his limp arm. Josh pressed his boot hard on the warden’s groin and hissed, ‘You do not touch her. Ever.’ Suddenly, I watched in horror as Josh was thrown to the ground by armoured guards. I ran to his aid but was stopped when an arm locked me in place: the warden.  With me in one hand, he bellowed at his guards, ‘Shoot him down like a wild beast!’ I kicked and screamed and bit at him but as I was dropped, I heard the inevitable sound of gunshot. Too late.

I fell at Josh’s side, crying at the gushing pool of blood. I held his head gingerly as I ripped my blouse and bandaged his stomach. The white cloth instantly reddened. Too much blood. He was losing too much blood. I desperately pressed at the wound, but the blood wouldn’t stop. I looked down at my hands; they were dyed in his blood. He was going to die. He was going to die and I couldn’t do anything about it.

‘Someone save him! Someone please save Josh!’ I hurled myself at the Warden’s leg, and clutched on it, ‘Please save him. Please, I beg you. I will do anything; just save him, please!’ He peered down at me with a sickening smirk, ‘Anything? Even sleep with me?’ I glanced back at Josh’s unmoving body. The pool of blood had steadily increased. If he didn’t get medical attention soon, he would die. 

‘Yes.’ 

Air Raid

Note: Inspired by a dream
- - - - -

Outside my window, the sky is collapsing.
It is a rain of blood and bombshells.
Black stars break open weak hearts and houses;
we stand no chance against them.
Men are shot and women are raped,
with their children’s innocence stolen.
We are victims of an invasion of no reason
But full of greed and disregard of lives.
People are running with weapons in one hand
and family in the other.
Memories are buried in rubble.
Limbs and tears pile by the sidewalks,
as we run for shelter.
Inside my heart, the world has collapsed.
The sky is no more but blue polluted by,
blood and metal prisons.
We stand no chance against them.
But we continue to run for our lives.
Because, that’s all we have left.

Murder in the dark

At night, after everyone has gone to bed, an unnoticed store switches on its lights and welcomes people inside with only a neon Open sign. Inside, familiar faces are gathered in a circle. I sat in my usual seat with my back against  the wall. It's only safe if I can see everyone with both my eyes. Phillip, who was sitting to my right, smirks at me, 'Are you afraid? You know what happens to the loser.' I smiled confidently back, 'As you can see, I'm still alive. I'm surprised that Mark lost. I'll miss him. How many more do you think will be gone before the Game master stops?'

The Game master was the only one whose face no one could see. He always wears a mask. We knew nothing of his identity or how he chose his players. All we know is that everyone started playing because he or she was bored with their life. This game was the most adrenaline pumping and risky there was. A gamble on your life. Literally.

He stood at the head of the circle and clapped his hands for attention. Everyone stopped talking immediately. There wasn't many of us now. Only five. Only five more rounds until the end of the game. One will walk away with the prize or not walk away at all. There is only one rule to win: Survive. We watched as the clock ticked slow second by slow second. I double-knotted my laces and gripped my Zippo lighter and body spray. Each player was allowed to bring two items of their choice. Mine has yet to disappoint me.

10 o'clock.

The door sprang open and we all ran. The whole town was our playing field. And that wasn't even enough. The Game master always find someone. Someone always lose. Because, the Game master is always hungry after a run. I hid myself in the dumpster and listened for a bloodied scream. It was the only true signal of our safety. At the end of every game, we were given a container of freshly cooked stew. He watches the relief from our retreating backs while wiping the blood onto his apron, 'I hope you like this week's stew. Sarah was extremely helpful with the cooking.'

And we wait for next week.

Nightmare scare

Today, I had the most unpleasant nightmare so far in my life and that is saying something since my nightmare of being chased by a giant caterpillar was horrifying (scared of caterpillars).

Nightmare:

I can't remember who, but at the start of the dream, I was peeking at a woman slaughtering a pig. It kind of had a psychotic murderer feel to it so I thought hiding would be best because I don't want her to chase me. Later on, my friends and I are in the middle of a bushland and my younger brother disappeared.

Everyone panicked. So we all started searching for him, wondering if he got murdered/kidnapped or tripped and died. We found his dead body.    I don't really remember what happened after but then we started placing limbs together until there was a whole body but that doesn't make sense because the body was whole to start with. Then there was a voice in my head that said "But nobody realised that there was no head" (Talk about freaky). The thing was, somehow in the dream, everyone thought that he was killed by the pig killer mentioned above.

Next, I was at this local buddhist monastry that I regularly visit, with my friend Jenny who is also buddhist. For some reason, we were at the back and we saw pig limbs hanging (like in butchers) and we freaked. Then a nun told us that there was this other nun that was acting weird. That nun ate the pig. We suddenly realised that that nun was the pig killer and also the muderer of my brother!!!

Out of no where, we heard this psychotic laughter so we ran for our lives. Then there was this voice that  told me that I couldn't run on ground level or first floor or I would be punished by God. But then, the surroundings, didn't look like the monastry anymore but rather my high school. I ran upstairs, keeping in mind the words of warning but then I couldn't star upstairs so I ran down the other stairs and reached the outside (ground level).

I continued running, but my legs were getting weak (in reality: I also have a sort of weak body) and in the corner of my left eye, I could see a woman carrying a massive butcher knife.

I woke up.

When I woke up, I realised that I had this dream before but it wasn't as frightening the first time for some reason.
I just remembered this is the 2nd time that I dreamt my younger brother's death. . .


What does it all mean? I have a bad feeling about it.