Had a weird dream, decided to turn it into a short story
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From: tacos
Vehicle: 2000 Elantra
Had a weird dream, decided to turn it into a short story
HHHHHHHHU, you come to, gasping for air, in the background you hear a very familiar tone, possibly something from your childhood. The smell of alcohol on your clothing makes you gag. “What happened last night?” you try to recollect the previous evenings events in your head but it only causes the migraine to intensify. Looking around, you find yourself in a place you’ve never been to before. It’s dark and damp with concrete bricks for walls; the only light is a faint flicker of a monitor down an ominous hallway.
Taking a deep breath, you work the nerve to walk down the hallway toward the exit. “Hello? Is anyone there?”…no reply, just the familiar tone playing over and over again. Getting closer, you realize the tone is the theme song from your favorite Saturday morning cartoon growing up. Your eyes are still hazy from the migraine; you can taste blood in your mouth. Closer.
When you get to the door, you look toward your right and there is a dark room, a quick flash from a cigarette inhale shows you a cloaked figure. You look down at the table holding the monitor and blink to gain some clarity. The monitor is flashing the same commercial over and over again.
Suddenly, the dark room illuminates. You look into the room, to the left is a table saturated with blood, to the right is the cloaked figure sitting in a rocking chair somehow evading the light. On the wall, there are enough tools to make a hardware store envious. Panic.
You try for the door. It’s locked, you run back to the room where you woke up. No exit. You scream for help, no reply. You run back for the door and try to break it down, it doesn’t budge at all. You punch and punch, scream and yell. Nothing.
You walk over to the small table holding the monitor; in font of the monitor someone has placed a small item there with a bow. A tear rolls down your face as you realize what commercial was playing on the monitor.
“Not going anywhere for a while? Grab a Snickers!”
Taking a deep breath, you work the nerve to walk down the hallway toward the exit. “Hello? Is anyone there?”…no reply, just the familiar tone playing over and over again. Getting closer, you realize the tone is the theme song from your favorite Saturday morning cartoon growing up. Your eyes are still hazy from the migraine; you can taste blood in your mouth. Closer.
When you get to the door, you look toward your right and there is a dark room, a quick flash from a cigarette inhale shows you a cloaked figure. You look down at the table holding the monitor and blink to gain some clarity. The monitor is flashing the same commercial over and over again.
Suddenly, the dark room illuminates. You look into the room, to the left is a table saturated with blood, to the right is the cloaked figure sitting in a rocking chair somehow evading the light. On the wall, there are enough tools to make a hardware store envious. Panic.
You try for the door. It’s locked, you run back to the room where you woke up. No exit. You scream for help, no reply. You run back for the door and try to break it down, it doesn’t budge at all. You punch and punch, scream and yell. Nothing.
You walk over to the small table holding the monitor; in font of the monitor someone has placed a small item there with a bow. A tear rolls down your face as you realize what commercial was playing on the monitor.
“Not going anywhere for a while? Grab a Snickers!”
