Dreamscape

 Jeremy was running, running from the reality threatening to consume him. He tripped over a small stick, sharp and pointed like a blade. Red liquid ran down his ankle. He had to keep going, though; so he quickly got up and pushed his legs to work again. His foot stung with ache. The ground opened up in front of him, a massive chasm ready to swallow him. He tried to bring his feet to a stop as his life flashed before him: his little sister’s tenth birthday party where his mom had made the cake with baking soda instead of baking powder; his high school graduation; the day he found out that his best friend, Seamus, had been found dead in the woods; the day his sister had told him that she saw the ghosts too, that was when he knew they were real. And now they were chasing him. They used to just lurk around the house, wandering in the halls, standing in front of mirrors, letting out almost inaudible screams in the middle of the night. His parents had never seen them, just him and Molly had. Recently they had become more violent, locking doors, pinching his sister, appearing out of nowhere right in front of them, showing their god-awful, bloody faces. The memories stopped as Jeremy came to a halt in front of the large crevasse in front of him. The stench of death hung in the air around him.  His foot slid less than an inch and Jeremy already felt himself being pulled into the bottomless pit. He knew that if he fell into the abyss he wouldn’t make it out alive.

 The dream shifted around him as he came into consciousness and found himself in his own room. Just a dream, that was all it was; he had not fallen into the deep, dark pit. He cautiously looked toward the foot of the bed to see if a ghost was there; they often followed him into his dreams and made them nightmares. Then he saw his foot. The blood gushing from the wound on the side of his heel. Something was definitely wrong.