The dream

Untitled Part 2

Then I woke up. The world was pitch black and freezing.

I woke up on the cold floor.

There was no grogginess, no sluggishness like I usually feel when I wake. I was wide awake, as if I'd never slept at all. A strange kind of alertness, like I'd downed three cups of coffee and overdosed on sugar. My body trembled, the nervous energy vibrating through me.

I stood, the cold breeze cutting through me, sharp and biting.

It was pitch black. And I wasn't in my room.

I was outside. Somewhere. Blind.

"MOM!" I shouted into the emptiness.

"MOM!" I called louder, hoping she'd answer, give me some explanation. Where was she? Why did everything feel so... wrong?

Frustration burned through me, and I screamed again, my voice thick with panic. Why couldn't she hear me? She'd been just across the hall when I fell asleep, asleep in her room, close enough to reach. But now? Now, she felt like a distant memory, unreachable.

Why did the thought of her not being here make my chest tighten like this? Like I couldn't breathe?

I reached out, my arms groping in the dark, trying to find something—anything—to orient myself. Then, I began to walk, the echo of my footsteps swallowed by the suffocating darkness.

I swallowed, trying to clear my throat, but the dryness clung to it. My breath came out in ragged gasps, visible in the frigid air. I reached for my pocket—my phone? My wallet? Something familiar. My fingers brushed against nothing. Just fabric. I had nothing. Not even my shoes felt like mine. My socks were thin, damp,

whaire was I even going was getting farter from home.

I dropped to my knees pain klutching them as they struck the floor.

I shook my head, trying to clear the fog from my thoughts. This couldn't be happening. It had to be a dream. But everything felt too real. Too solid.

That's when I heard it.

A distant sound, almost like a low hum, vibrating beneath the ground. My heart skipped. I froze. The sound was almost too soft, like it was coming from far away, but unmistakable. It made my skin crawl. Something was out there.

¨MOMMMMMM¨ I screamed It had to be her. 

Suddenly, I heard it again—the hum, much closer now. Low, throbbing. A presence. A deep, unsettling presence. Something watching, waiting.

I couldn't see it, but I felt it. It was like the world itself was alive, breathing, and it was watching me.

Something was coming.

I couldn't see it—there was nothing to see in this pitch-black world. It was as if the darkness itself had become a heavy, suffocating blanket, pressing in on me from every side. My pulse quickened, but I tried to steady my breathing. What was that sound?

A slow shuffle.

At first, it was subtle, like the rustling of wind in dead leaves, barely perceptible. But the closer it came, the more distinct it became, the more real. A dragging noise. Not quite a footstep, but something heavier, more deliberate. The soft scrape of hooves—deep and hollow—punctuating the silence. Each step echoed like the sound of a heavy boot scraping against a stone floor.

I stood still, trying to make sense of the noise. The air felt thick, almost suffocating, with each passing moment.

Then, a low, guttural rumble, so deep I could feel it in my chest. The sound vibrated the air around me, sending a shiver through my bones. It was close. Too close.

The air grew heavy, thick with the scent of something rancid—decay and rot. It flooded my nostrils, making me gag. I could almost taste it, thick and sour, like spoiled milk and something metallic. The hairs on my arms stood on end.

And then, I felt it.

A presence. A weight in the air. A movement so unnatural it made my skin crawl. It wasn't walking—it was more like stumbling, each motion unsteady but powerful. The hooves scraped the ground again, the sound echoing through the blackness, but this time closer—too close.

I didn't see it, but I felt it. A shift in the air. Something large and slow, and heavy. The feeling of space being consumed, a disturbance in the atmosphere like a storm passing through. It felt like the air itself was bending, pulling me toward it.

And then came the smell. The worst part was that it wasn't just the stench of decay, but something else—a thick, sour vapor, an almost tangible force that seemed to suffocate everything around me. It clung to the back of my throat and stung in my eyes.

My breath hitched. It was coming for me.

I didn't have time to think. I ran.

But my legs were shaky, my movements clumsy in the thick, humid air. I didn't know where I was going. I just ran, heart pounding in my chest, ears straining for any sign of where the creature might be. A scraping sound. A distant thud that vibrated the ground beneath me.

I ran faster, but I could hear the heavy steps following me. It was moving too fast. No. It was closing in on me. The sound of its hooves grinding the dirt—each step—was like a countdown, and I could feel it coming closer.

Suddenly, the air shifted again—too fast, too close. Something swiped at my leg, sharp, jagged, and heavy. The force of it sent me stumbling forward, nearly to my knees.

The thing was right there. I couldn't see it, but I could feel it—the way its presence seemed to consume everything around me. It was massive. Hulking. I heard the faintest scrape of something—the scraping of horns. They sounded like branches, twisted and thick, scraping against the air. The growl that came next was low, almost like a rumble of thunder, vibrating the air as though it had come from the very earth beneath me.

I gasped, scrambling to my feet, but the creature lunged.

I felt the sharp rush of wind—a heavy, unnatural force—sweeping through the space beside me. The ground rumbled, hooves slamming down with terrifying force as the thing tried to pin me down. The air was thick with its presence, but I still couldn't see it. I could only feel it moving, hear it thrashing in the dark.

The creature's breath was hot and putrid, brushing against my neck. I could hear its ragged exhale—a deep, slow sound like something rotting.

The sound of its hooves scraped louder as it circled, the wet squelch of its snout dragging against the ground. It was right there, its presence overwhelming me. And yet, it wasn't the hooves or the slithering of its horns that terrified me the most—it was the feeling. The horrible feeling that I was surrounded, that I was prey. The sensation that it was waiting, watching.

The scraping sound of its horns against the air grew louder, closer. And I realized—it was waiting for me to make a move. To flinch, to speak, to run.

It was toying with me.