The Dream.

For a moment, I don't know where I am. I am walking, I feel coarse carpet rubbing against the soles of my shoes. I am in corridor. It stetches into the distance, dark and shadowy. I strain my eyes but cannot see where it ends. I look down and see I am in my school uniform, grey shorts and white shirt. When I look back up, I see the shadows have lifted, revealing scratched and scarred white plaster walls either side of me. Blue nylon carpeting covers the floor. I continue to walk, looking around at my old school building. 

I hear the scuffing of feet behind me and I turn. Other students are running towards me, then past me, leaving me in their wake. I yell out to them, but my voice floats away, as though across a great distance.

"Where are you going?" I yell again, but they are gone and I am alone again.

A voice trails back to me, gradually growing louder, echoing along the hallway.

"Run," it whispers, "he comes..."

The hallway grows cold and I shiver inside my thin shirt. The shadows descend once more, until I am almost in darkness. I begin to run, sensing danger behind me. My legs pump, yet I hardly seem to travel up the hall. I pump harder, growing frantic, but I am running into darkness. I can see nothing up ahead but somehow I know I will be safe there.

I hear more footsteps behind me. Slow, deliberate and menacing. 

Then I am running. Faster this time. I can actually feel myself moving further up the hall. I look from side to side, searching for an exit. The shadows are thinning, revealing blue painted doors. So many of them, far more that I remember from school. I stop to try one but it is locked. I struggle with it, tugging desperately, but it doesn't budge. I move on, running faster, and the heavy steps behind me quicken.

As I move further, the shadows thin. The hallway is bathed in grey daylight. I see a window up ahead, right at the end of the hall. I forget the doors beside and run for this window. I can see it is partially open, can see the light on the other side. It comes closer as I run, but I sense He is also coming closer. The thudding steps fill my ears and I reach for the window.

No time to look at what is on the other side. There are no other exits. I squeeze myself over the sill, feeling the window jam against my back. I squeeze tighter into the opening, straining for the other side, but I am trapped. I can't push through and can't pull back.

The footsteps grow louder still, bearing down on my thrashing body. I am pushing, pushing, gripping the sill and struggling. I break free a little. One more push and I am on the other side. A hand grabs my ankle, a sharp pain and-

I sag against my mattress, exhausted and drained, as though I haven't slept a wink. I am wide awake and my eyes feel grainy and sore. My alarm begins to squeal at me. Six O'Clock. Time to get up, but I don't feel like it. I have had that dream so many times over the years, since I was young. I blame it on my early exposure to slasher movies. They used to scare me but now the only thing that scares me is that I give up. I wonder if this would be my reaction in a real life situation. I hope not, but the question serves to unsettle me for the rest of the morning.
 
 

The End.

David Guest

Friday, 19 November 1999