Watching The World Burn by Abby Jean Sprouse

Chapter 2: Cruelty

"Wake.....up.....," the voice was rough and sounded far away. Almost like an echo sounding through the fog covered forest I was trudging through. I wiped the sweat from my brow and squinted, trying to peer through the milky white overlaying the darkness. I kept going, why? I didn't know, why was I even there. How did I get here? Suddenly I tripped and stumbled over something. I felt no pain after the fall so I looked back to see what had messed up my pace. It was a foot marker for a grave. I inhaled sharply, why was there a random footer out here?

I looked around, examining the once clear forest floor only to discover that I was surrounded by a thousand tombstones and footstones clumped together. What was happening, where did they come from? Not only moments ago I was walking through a foggy dark forest, now within the blink of an eye I had somehow stumbled into an eerie graveyard. The ground morphed beneath my hands and feet from where I still lay from my fall. The grass beneath me burned to the ground and flames went up everywhere.

"Wake...up...," the voice was closer now but still far away. There was more urgency there. I began running, weaving through the fire that was quickly burning everything in sight. I stumbled around the graves trying to escape being burned to death when I was tripped again and fell straight into a tombstone. I sat up quickly, about to regain my footing to run again but I was stopped in my tracks by the name that was on the grave. 'Carter Jean Richardson' it read. 'Beloved daughter, perfect angel.' Tears streamed down my cheeks and leaked into the soil, why was she here? This didn't look like Summer's Set graveyard, I had buried her in the family plots not too far from home so that she was still close. A baby needed their mother close after all. I looked to my left; forgetting the flames that were already upon me, I gasped in shock. The grave to the left read, 'Milton Leroy Richardson...father, grandfather, friend.' Why was my grandfather buried here, we never had a funeral for him. 

I shook myself, that's not right. He's not gone, he shouldn't be here at all. I peered slowly to my right almost afraid of what I would find there and rightfully so. "NO!" 

'Zachariah Daniel Richardson...loyal brother, gone too soon.'

"NO! Zach is still alive! This isn't real, it can't be!"

Then I heard a tiny whisper of a voice, "Mama?"

I could feel the horror etched onto my face as I stared down at my daughters plot beneath me. Grabbing onto me, protruding from the dirt was a tiny greying hand that held my left pointer finger tightly. 

"Mama," the soil whispered. "Mama, why won't you hold me? It's dark down here mama, I'm scared."

I started digging frantically all sanity gone along with the decaying hand that had been there a second ago. "Carter! Baby I'm coming! I'll save you! Don't leave me!"

I continued screaming as the blood poured from my fingers, my nails being torn away by the hard dirt. Still no pain could be felt, I was too busy trying to reach her. Trying to save her before death took her away again. "She's mine! You can't have her," I yelled at the ground as I continued digging vigorously. 

"WAKE UP!"

.......

Addison shot up panting, drenched in a puddle of her own sweat. Darkness surrounded her and for a moment she almost thought to herself that she was trapped in another nightmare until Zachariah spoke from his corner of the room. 

"You were yelling in your sleep, it was aggravating."

Her breathing was ragged as she reached down to where her feet were and frantically felt for the lantern along with it's switch. When the light was on and she could make out his boots in the same position she had seen them last she nodded in his direction. "Thankyou." Her breathing was beginning to calm as she made peace with her surroundings.