Dreams Of The Other Side

2

I find myself walking the narrow dimly lit corridor from my nightmare almost every night for the rest of the week. Each time almost exactly the same as the first; yet with every passing night the images get clearer, more real. I don't know what any of it means. But it isn't as if it's unusual. My dreams sometimes linger for weeks then vanish with no explanation.

Instead I try focusing on the never ending work that has to be done around the house. Unboxing has become the least of my problems. The truth is, it is impossible to find a new home for all my possessions, what with every possible surface in the house being covered by a thick layer of dust and cobwebs. Not to mention the moths in the closets upstairs.

And so the past week has consisted of endless sweeping and vacuuming. Although my faith in the staircases has been somewhat restored after we dropped an antique dressing table on them with no accident, the chandeliers are still a fair bet.

By Friday I am all but dying of boredom. My parents decide to go out to introduce themselves to some neighbors, leaving me alone in a house that looks like it belongs in a Stephen King novel.

I abandon the pencil and paper I've been trying to sketch with for the past hour and get up from the low wooden chair at my desk. After a moment of staring at the splattering rain at my windowsill, I ditch my small bedroom and decide to explore the house. We've been here an entire week and I have yet to see all the rooms.

I make my way through drawing rooms and spare bedrooms, to various storage closets and a very empty attic. At some point I remember about the small locked door I'd seen while cleaning and I rush to get the many keys from the foyer.

I have a hard time finding it again and an even harder time trying to sort out which bloody key is the one to this particular room, but soon enough I find the proper one and shove it into the keyhole.

A cool draft wafts over me as I push the door open and peer inside. I barely manage to choke back a scream. Dim lighting illuminates the green walls of a narrow corridor that stretches out beyond my line of vision. It is the exact hallway from my nightmares.

I take a few cautious steps, my heart hammering against my ribs, so violently I feel it will burst free. The shadows on the wall keep shifting and twisting. I don't dare move, until, from somewhere beyond, I hear a rasping faint whisper, calling me.  

That is when I turn and run without a second thought.