It was cold outside. Winter time I believe, and it was quite dark. Darker than normal, if you'd believe that. Not a soul in a sight, and there was I. Standing in the middle of hell itself. Like trash that littered the ground at my school, bodies lay about the field. The once green and soft grass, that the children like to run through bare footed was now a red painted field. I think it was a children's playground as well, so that just amplifies the creepy factor.
And where was I? Oh I had the pleasure of being in the middle of it. Though, in this dream, it was quite strange. The bodies, which I had presumed dead, twitched. The stench filled my nostrils unexpectedly and I gagged, which oddly so triggered more twitching. I can't even begin to describe the stench. So fowl, so disgusting I suck at describing it, but imagine the worst stench you could ever imagine and amplify it with the scent of Dead people. The scent crawled its way into my nostrils, depriving me of the pleasant scent of the night breeze that whipped through. Back to the bodies, One said body even started to rise, and soon more and more followed suit. Everything played out like a cinema. Like those movies I'd watch for hours, laughing and crying at them. Laughing at their idiotic decisions and crying out how I was watching them alone. Alone. Just like in this field, my biggest fear one would think. So maybe this isn't a dream, maybe it is a twisted nightmare.
Something cold and, how do I put this, dead touched my leg. And when it did, I could only blankly stare down at the ground. A small hand grasped my ankle tightly. Clutched is the better word for that. Though it being a child's it was easy for me to escape the grasp on my ankle, but that doesn't mean I wasn't absolutely petrified at the fact that a dead child was trying to rip of my ankle.
My movement seemed to trigger the rest of it getting up. It's pale blue eyes gazed emptily at me, long brunette hair, perky nose, and half of her mouth gone. I saw the half row of teeth, the half smile on her face. Half of a tongue. Now I know this isn't the moment for comedy, but her tongue was in half. It moved on its own, like a little worm. It was quite comical,I only wish I could describe it truly.
If you were a person journal, would you be squealing right now? Would you be feeling the dread crawl onto your skin and try to be one with you? Or would you not react at all?
Anyway, back to the dream, Journal. After the small dead thing, I say thing because the theory of zombies is a simple theory. So like I said, the dead thing, lunged forward at me and snapped it's half mouth. I moved of course,not going to be bitten by a small dead thing. How embarrassing would that be in the after life? To know I died because a small dead thing took a bite out of me.
Maybe I shouldn't have moved though, probably would've ended the nightmare, dream thing a lot sooner. My genius self, moved backwards. And this led to me tumbling down the pile of dead bodies, which moved and began snapping at me. Although some stood and rose, there were still a lot of them piled on top of each other. Quite horrifying If I do say so myself. The fall backwards ended in agony. Not only did cold and unclean teeth snap and bite into my flesh on the way down, I ended up hitting the back of my head on the concrete at the very end of the pile. The pain was absolutely awful, a burning sensation with every flesh ripping bite. And hitting my head, well the split second I was cautious told me it felt like my skull was ripped in half. Great way to end the ironic situation isn't it? It also ended the nightmare/Dream thing.
Now I'm not one to believe in coincidences, but I feel a small part of me is afraid that this nightmare/dream thing will be real tomorrow. Just like my other dream, and I for one am not in favor of dying. Would you care journal? If I were to stop writing in you, if I were to stop talking to you. Not to mention if I were to stop sobbing near your pages.
I'm really glad you can't talk, or say anything journal. Otherwise you'd probably give me an answer that I honestly don't want. That to know my only friend, an inanimate object, isn't my friend after all.
That's all for today Journal. And oh before I forget, tomorrow I'm staying home. Just in case the apocalyptic theory does indeed happen.
Sincerely, Danny
YOU ARE READING
The Journal
RandomDanny was a boy who had dreams. Many dreams, dreams like no other human being has ever dared to well, dream. He even had day dreams like most people do. The thing is, unlike most people he remembers all of his dreams. And he keeps them in his Journa...
