The Dreadful Dreamer's Collection

Prove Yourself- Summer 2022

I was visiting my boyfriend's family for the first time. Before I was brought to his father's house, he took us to a giant building full of different foods, lighting, and music. It was the 'cool' place to be as people in their early twenties filled the scene. I specifically remember ordering two pieces of plain pizza and a strawberry roll-up (whatever that is), along with a confetti pretzel (whatever that is too) after the worker convinced me to get a dessert. It was a fantastic time, although his family was here, watching us from a distance which made me feel uncomfortable. After this unique experience, he drove me back to his father's house.

His father, when I neared his house, did not look like his father at all from the pictures I had seen previously. Before me stood a hillbilly with a scraggly beard and a beer belly. He explained that I had to prove myself in order to be a part of the family. Casually, he walked me over to a small puddle and handed me a sort of primitive fish hunting spear. The first task was to kill all of the tadpoles in the puddle. Even though I have a soft spot for frogs and anything aquatic, the task seemed simple. After a few moments, I had finished the task and called his father over to check my progress. Next, his father grabbed my wrist and walked me into the garage, only when we began to climb the stairs, the stairwell appeared similar to one you would find in a school. With each step his grip increased, he dragged me on more aggressively, until we reached the desired floor. He yanked me down a ramp into a lab full of glass windows for an audience to gather around. He opened the entrance door, flung me inside, and stood back with a smirk on his face. The scientists in the lab came over to me and helped me to a medical table. They strapped me down; my forearms and legs completely restrained. A sort of helmet was placed over my head, which sent searing pain throughout my body. Across the room a dead pig was sprawled in a similar fashion as me with its head in the same contraption. I screamed and poured off sweat. The intense pain made my eyes water and roll into the back of my head. I could feel death close by. The machine stopped, my body went limp, but the pig rose in a squealing frenzy. After giving myself time to come to, I stared over at the pig who stared back at me. I was cloned inside of a pig. I tried to take the restraints off of myself, but was unsuccessful. After the scientists tended to the pig, they released me from the restraints. I made eye contact with my true torturer through the glass. I ran through the lab, through the doors, and directly at him with an exorbitant amount of rage. As I approached him, teeth and fists barred, he reached out his hand and seized me by my hair as simple as that. The onlookers from the experiment screamed in horror as the witnessed this man'a brutality towards me. He dragged me by my hair down the stairs, visitors screaming and cowering in the halls. We came across a landing with a bathroom, and a small boy gazed up at him, telling him that he knows what he did. My torturer threatened the child back, causing him to cry so much he threw up in the bathroom to his side. In this manner, I was dragged back to reality. My wits were still not about me as the pain lingered on and my body was beyond weak. He sat me down in the front yard, drew a match from his pocket, lit it, and flung it into the house.

"Your final task is to save grandma from the top floor." He sniggered and took a few steps back to examine the house. I rushed to the top floor, spilling over furniture and checking over the bedroom. The flames were rising closer, but there was no indication of grandma anywhere. I came across gunpowder. . . I whipped around and located on the fireplace mantle an urn. This has to be it! Grandma was in the urn! I was about to make an escape for it, but I realized I wanted to make the man below suffer. I rounded up all of the gunpowder I could find and placed it in a concentrated pile on the floor before escaping the building. I ran out of the building so fast, hoping not to catch the gaze of my torturer. The house exploded and the flames rose higher; the gunpowder had been used up now. I ran far away never looking behind me.

Once I got home (somehow) I immediately told my dad. He drove with me all the way to their house with a car full of weapons. He told me to stay put, be quiet, and listen, as he handed over my .22 handgun to me. I sat anxious, nervous, wondering what was going to happen to him, to me. . .