The Dreams

 

Burning. Fire. The smoke filled the place. She coughed. They’d come; she knew they’d come. And then – yes they were here. They hovered around her, their faces masked. They never spoke; only laughed. It was a hollow sound, filled with coldness. In the place, there were people on the floor. People, who’s body was like crust, and they lay, statues. The fire curled around her, growing up her legs, stomach, arms, dancing at her throat. But it never went past there. Her body was burning. She was screaming, but it was drowned in the laughter of the Masked Ones.

 

Her eyes flashed open. She looked at her daughter, who was comfortably curled up with her mother. The lady gave quickly kissed the child’s head, before sliding out of the bed. It was still dark. The lady scribbled some things on a piece of paper. Then she left. She didn’t bother to put on some boots, a coat – nothing. She simply walked out of the room and the house.

 

Her footprints were printed onto the sand; the wind though, would eventually blow it away completely. There was no one on the beach. It was too late, too cold, too dangerous. She took slow steps on the jetty, each step bringing her closer to the end. She couldn’t stand it, not being able to sleep. She always had the same dream, being burned alive. She had tried not to sleep many nights, but it wasn’t healthy.

There was only one other thing to do.

 

The lady reached the end of the jetty. The waves roared. The breeze was pushing her. The lady held her hands out to the sky.

“I’ve had enough!” she shouted, to no one in particular. She closed her eyes. All she had to do was jump. This isn’t the right thing to do. She tried to turn around, but no, she couldn’t move. And before she knew it, her foot slipped on a rock and she screamed, but her voice was drowned by the laughter ringing in her mind and the splash! of her body falling into the water.

 

 

18 YEARS LATER

 

 

The girl was sipping coffee in the university campus, reading the newspaper. Her roommate appeared.

“You know,” the roommate said, “you were screaming in your sleep last night.”

“Really?” said the other girl, not looking up from the newspaper. “I was screaming in my dream, too.”

“Oh?”

“Yes,” the girl looked up, thoughtful. “Yes, I was being burned alive, and I could’ve sworn I saw my mothers body, crusty… like a statue, on the floor.”