She wakes up faster than a cat in ice-water, every sense urging her to claw her way to standing.
Thoughts rummaged through her head.
What did this dream mean? Had she foreshadowed her on death?
She drenches in sweat and a throbbing pain in her eye makes it hard to keep them open.
Fear sits on her like a pillow over her mouth and nose. It speaks to her in its cackling voice.
It tells her legs to go weak, her stomach to lurch, and her heart to ache.
~ ~ ~
3 weeks later, she's walking to work.
It's a bleak old building, with a particularly menacing façade.
Cobwebs infest every corner like some cancerous disease.
The wooden door is extremely heavy, with sections splintering off.
It creaks like a madman when you open it.
She struggles through the door and rushes to her office. Her office sits at the far wing of the decrepit building.
It's always dark down there.
The grimy walls blot out the sunlight at any hour.
So it doesn't matter when she goes down there; no one ever sees.
And she can't get help.
They didn't believe her.
No one ever did, not since her disorder was found.
YOU ARE READING
Drown the future
Short StoryThe dystopia of the average person is the utopia of the psychopath. You've only got to look at the general direction the world is heading in to know who is in charge... "Is it better for a man to have chosen evil than to have good imposed upon him?"
