It's Not Real

"It's only a dream"

I don't think I'm going insane, am I? Is was I saw an enigma? I'm not entirely sure. What am I talking about? Well, I remember a specific time in my childhood that's stuck with me for the longest. And now it's coming back to haunt me. I don't know if what I saw was real or not, or if it even had existed at all and was just a figment of my imagination. It felt real, and now that its happening again, i believe it was real.
     

You see, at the time I was ten years old. Halloween was in a few days, practically right around the corner. Normally, being the tiny tyke I was, I wanted to dress up as some cool hero like Spiderman, Batman, or even that trashy Green Lantern, even though I liked the concept. But I wanted to do something different. I wanted something fresh, original. My own costume. It took three months, including material searching, to create this costume with the help of my cousin. I was completely enchanted by what I had created, the masterpiece that came out of my mind itself. I stopped in front of the mirror in my room and stared myself up from head to toe. An old teal shirt I found in my closet had been torn up at random places, and I complemented it with a jet black leather jacket. A loose, grey beanie hangs on my head, the front of my hair covering my eyes. People wouldn't be able to notice them, but if they did, they would see pitch black contacts with a grey ring in the center. Kinda makes me looks like a demon in a way. Sweet. My grey jeans were faded to give off a dead, empty feel, and it was complemented by the combat boots, which I had discolored with a dull grey. I have a problem, okay? I like dark, depressing colors!

But to bring the whole outfit together took a little pleading from my mother considering most kids don't bring actual weapons with them on Halloween. It was a slick, thin sword, spanning about five feet in length. Despite the size I could carry it quite easily with just one hand. I had the blade dulled down enough so that an accidental light swing didn't cut or harm anyone. Once I had made sure I had every component of my outfit, I headed for the door-well, about an hour after a lecture from my mother about safety, which I didn't really need-and looked down at my poorly drawn yet easily readable map. Another thing that made this Halloween different is that I wasn't looking for any sort of candy to look from adults with nothing better to do in their life than to throw sugar at children. Instead, I was in it for the haunted houses. Why? I wanted to get scared to death, because that's the thrill of Halloween to me: what can scare me the most. It took me about half an hour to get through a few houses with interesting themes, such as a hitman chasing you through the house, dastardly creations come to life, a toy shop...well, that was isn't really original, but it sure as hell was cool.

I was searching for the next house to go to after travelling through the crazy multi-layered house that was home to a Mr. Hyde-Frankenstein crossbreed, when I spotted movement out of the corner of my eye. There was a man covered by his own silhouette, limping towards a run down house with broken windows. He looked like he was injured, and I would have gone my own way had I not had the suspicion that he wasn't faking his injuries or his outfit. I don't know when and why I moved my legs, but next thing I knew, I broke into a sprint towards the house. I felt like I should pay service to the man and help him tend to injuries. I skidded to a stop when I reached the porch. The wood was splintered and broken at some places, and the steps looked to be unstable. I bounded up them as fast as I could, in fear of falling and getting my leg stuck. After reaching the top, the sight of a tall door rested in front of me. The door was mostly intact, save for the broken window and shattered glass in front of it. I carefully crunched my through the shards and tried the knob. The door wouldn't budge. I frowned, knowing I'd have to reach through the deadly window. The problem would be bending my arm in order to reach the knob. I decided against it and figured if I didn't find another entrance I would come back and try. I regret that decision.

I made my way towards the backyard and looked around for some kind of crawlspace or doorway of some sort, or at least a key. I stopped in the middle of the grass, which was long dead and brown. I turned around and looked at the sliding door and my blood ran cold. It was the man I saw. There was blood leaking down his leg, but that isn't what bothered me. He was smiling at me. Unnaturally so, at that. I could see something hanging behind him but couldn't get a good glance at it. Then he opened his mouth, the inside sickening. His teeth were sharp yet rotten, blackness coloring them in. His mouth moved, making words I couldn't hear. But I know what he said, and those words chill me to this day.

"It's your turn." He stepped to the side, and the sight made me gag, nearly puking. It was a body. No, it was several bodies. They were hanging from thin ropes that hugged their necks tightly. Their bodies were completely limp, their fingers and faces blue. I took a step back, my eyes not comprehending what was in front of me. Then I heard a snapping noise. I don't remember when the sliding door opened, but moonlight was more apparent leaking into the room. The man in the front seemed to be moving lower and lower. I thought the rope was growing longer until I actually looked up at it. The rope was snapping, growing thinner by the second until it completely snapped. The body just fell and hit the ground as the other bodies in the room started to follow suite. It was bizarre. I wanted to puke and run away and never look back.

That is, until one of the bodies stood up.

The blue-skinned body began to move on its own, pushing itself off the ground. Its eye sockets were empty, save for the very visible outline of the bone structure of the skull. It kept its dark voids trained on me as the bodies behind him mimicked. It looked like a giant blue army of corpses. Some were missing flesh, others limbs. At this point I was pressed against the fence, fearing for my life. What the hell was going on. The figure on the side just kept smiling that same, pitch black grin, as if he was enjoying himself. His eyes were dead set on me, wide eyed and filled with hate. With death. With murder. Suddenly there was a loud screech from one of the people, and it signaled for the others to mimic as they all ran in a herd towards me. I tried to pivot, to get out of the way, but something caught onto my foot. I lost balance and hit the ground, the air escaping my lungs. My body was lifted off the ground and thrown against the fence, and I could make out the stench of decay. I looked over and came face to face with one of the corpses.

It looked me in the eye-it didn't feel right giving it a gender, considering it was, well, dead-and its grip tightened. I didn't know if it could feel what I did to it, but it was too late then to reminisce over my action. I flipped the sword in my hand, the blade along my arm, and lifted my arm, stabbing into its shoulder. It didn't flinch. It didn't scream. But it must still have nerves, I thought. And I was right; its arm recoiled and its grip loosened. I used my torso and twisted out of its grasp, slamming my foot into its chest. It staggered back and I dropped down and ducked under him. I ran towards the fence, an entire mob of undead after me. This isn't happening, this isn't happening, this isn't happening! I just wanted a normal night of Halloween, not a rendition of The Walking Dead! It was within my grasp, the exit, and a wave of relief washed over me. I'm gonna make it...that's what I had thought.

I felt my shirt being gripped tightly and turned around, coming face to face with the mob. The panic came back, worse than before. I tried swatting them away, all the hands grabbing me, wanting me to join them, but one hand gone meant another three latched. Eventually every part of me was being pulled backwards, my vision slowly narrowing. I saw the figure in front of me, the same figure I wanted to help, the figure I thought was injured. So I did one last thing, in a desperate attempt to be rescued, in a hurry. It killed me and took the last of my oxygen, but I had to.

I screamed. I screamed until my throat was raw, my eyes were watering, and until I could taste blood. Then my vision was plunged with darkness. When I came to eventually, I felt my body on a cold, hard surface. Concrete, I thought to myself. I must have been moved. It was still nighttime, but that's about all I could make out just from my position. My vision was still blurred and hazy, and I could barely make out what I thought was a light. I rubbed my eyes, trying to get them to accustom to the dark again. When they did, I noticed...a lamp? Positioned outside of the door. It was in the shape of an hourglass, with a skull imprinted on it.

"My my, how young they fall." I heard behind me. I stood up slowly and dusted myself off, turning towards the voice. But no one was there. I could feel chills running down my spine. Something wasn't right, and I couldn't put a finger on it. I felt something slowly drape over my shoulder, and I froze. Now, at the age of 17, I wouldn't react how I did when I was ten. But how does a kid react when he sees a literal bone structure of a hand grasp your shoulder. I let out a scream, falling backwards and crawling away. A tall figure stood in front of me, his face hidden under the shadows of the torn black hood of the cowl. He had no legs or feet, as if he was floating, and his hands were bone. Pure bone. As in skeleton bones. A small hourglass hung from one of his bony fingers, the sands trickling away.