Flames left behind

14{Wasteland}

     I dreamt of a land. 

      It was barren and gray, and I gave it the title of a wasteland. I mean, that's what it looked like.  The sky was blanketed in a thick, heavy layer of charcoal-black smoke, the real sky not much brighter above it, and cracked, mossy headstones littered along the ground. Some were turned over; others were barely standing. I looked down and took a small step forward. As soon as I did, the ground cracked into a chasm, and I jumped back.

  This was no dream. This was a nightmare. How cliche. Just my luck that even my dreams are against me. Nothing ever goes right in my world. 

      The crack made itself into an even bigger crack that split through the earth, seeming to go on forever, endless. It split through decaying rocks, and these thick, large, and dead black roots spread themselves along the crack. In the distance, was a tall building. It was too far away to tell what it was, and a sudden feeling told me I had to go there. I have to know what it is. Something bad would happen if I didn't. But maybe something bad would happen if I did. It was 50-50. 

  My back started aching, dull at first so I ignored it, but a sharp pain burst out. I screamed, and I would've fallen to my knees if something wasn't holding me up. I touched my back, ever so gently, flinching, and my hand came away, covered in blood. I felt myself being lifted off the ground, only a few inches, and tried to maneuver my head to see what was holding me up. I glanced something red. Red and gold and grey. Wings. 

   I looked forward and saw that I was slowly making my way, inching my way, towards the building. More so, my wings were making way. They seemed drawn to it. The scenery around me stayed the same, but this time the trees came into view. Broken down and decayed trees, forming an almost pathway type trail. The roots continued to move, squirming around, as if something was trying to break out of them. Or maybe they were trying to keep something in.

  Something about this seemed vaguely familiar.  

   I gasped when I saw the building up close. It was the Institute. But not? It was all twisted and stretched, like it was trying to grasp at something that was never there, and it was decayed and covered in dead moss, the same moss that covered the torture chamber of my kidnapper. It had the same structure, same build as the Institute, but it was off. As I've stated before. Bricks were missing, forming gaping holes in the walls, and the ones still intact looked like they were on their last life. The roof was collapsed in on some parts, and the shiny red exterior was a dull, rustic red. Not very appealing to the eye. Windows were shattered, broken pieces of glass littering the dead grass beneath. It was completely abandoned. 

   Not in control, I drifted inside, past the slightly ajar door. I gasped at the sight, and then screamed. More of a moan, and it echoed off the walls, and I shuddered at the smell. It smelled like rot, and death, and blood. Fresh blood. I shouldn't be here. I should be anywhere but here. I wasn't supposed to see this, hear this, or feel this. None of this.

  Just as the thought vanished, I heard a noise. An eerie noise, one you hear from the lurking shadows, like something from the inside is watching you. Every little move you make, every time your breathing speeds up. 

Click, click, tap, tap.

 "H-Hello?" I managed. Stupid Ambrosia. You're not supposed to show fear in these types of situations. It wasn't until I heard it again that the realization hit me.

Click. Click. Click.

  I'm scared. I'm actually truly scared. I could die here in this, this dream. 

   Aha, it's a dream. Just a dream. It can't hurt me, just spook me. And I do not plan on letting it get the best of me. Nothing ever gets the best of me, knock on wood.