Zinnia [DreamNotFound]

NIGHTMARES

George opens his eyes and he finds himself standing on what seems to be an invisible platform, hovering over a jet black abyss. He feels something familiar, a presence but visually absent. His ears are filled with the steady rhythm of his pulse, feeling the natural energy in him circling around his body like laps in a field. His audible breaths blur into the vacuum, fading through the void as if in a cave.  

He feels the platform beneath him evanesce, causing him to fall through. A cut-off gasp escapes his lips for a split second, but he doesn't scream or shout farther down. Instead, he embraces the resistance of the air, extending his arms and legs wide like he were diving in the sky. He feels his powers pricking the surface of his palms, begging to be released but he pushes it back. 

He shuts his eyes and surrenders to the perpetual darkness as it swallows him. As he fell deeper, he feels his body slowing down, as if it had its own breaks. He meets a dirty white floor, almost gray, and his feet reluctantly floats over it. He stretches his leg, touching the ground with the tip of his toes before finally landing on both feet.

George instinctively runs his hand through the locks of his dark brown hair, discontinuing midway when he senses a shift from behind. But instead of fear taking over, he could only feel himself become inquisitive as he turns towards the direction of the peculiarity. While many would opt to run away from some strange apparition they encounter in the dark, George did not hesitate to approach it. Whatever it was.

George was struck with a strange case of déjà vu for no identifiable reason. The atmosphere had an eerily familiar ambience to it, but he was uncertain as to why he felt that way. He had dreams before, but rarely one where he is hurled into a void. Perhaps he had, but his memories failed to retrieve them. 

A light breeze sprays against his features as he stares squarely at the source of the presence. The wind surrounds him, compelling him to turn around as he feels the heaviness shift from its origin. Chills run down his spine as a voice, one he swore to have heard before but couldn't quite point his finger at it, fills in the tranquility of the emptiness.

"You're here," it echoes.

"Is that a good thing or a bad thing?" George bravely responds.

"You're not supposed to be here."

"You mean I'm supposed to be dead? Yeah, I'm afraid I've already passed that bit," George scoffs. "Where am I?" George shoves his hands in the pocket of his gray sweatpants as he takes small steps.

"You're in your mind," the voice says.

George raises an eyebrow, "Why is it so... blank?"

"Oh, trust me, my guy. The same thought lingers in everyone," the voice replied. "Anyways, you're here because I need to warn you."

"Warn me? About what?"

"Your future."

"What about it? I should be fine, right? The gem protects me,"

"Indeed, it does."

"So what's the issue here?"

"The issue here, George, is that you and your friends have upset the balance of this world from your revival. You're here so that I can warn you that even though the gem is in your possession, fate will always find a way."

"Wha- does my presence in the world mean any harm?"

"For others? Maybe not."

"Then wh-"

"For one person, most likely."

George froze. Where is this going? "What are you saying?"