The following morning, I woke up to a semi familiar figure. A man, whose posture only portrayed melachony. The man from the dream was standing right before me. At the end of the bed I was in. Before I could even properly react, I realised I wasn't even in my own home.
I was elsewhere, where I didn't know anything at all. A few people spoke a foreign language in the background. Then I heard a familiar voice. Raphael. Was he here? The figure at the end of the bed suddenly came back to motion, swiftly and smoothly moving from the end to right next to me, not missing their chance to undo me of my sight by wrapping a piece of cloth around my eyes.
Raphael's melodious voice was the only thing I tried to focus on, trying to block out the higher pitched female voice which was icier than the coldest of winter days, her voice sharp and clear as it cut through the silence like a sharp knife would flawlessly cut through a piece of paper.
A faint scent of fire filled the room mixed with an unrecognisable yet nauseating scent. It smelled like death and corpses, like something rotten, like a dead body that slowly was deteriorating, also like vomit in some way. Either way, an unpleasant scent as Raphael's melodious voice and the icy female voice left the room, only to be left with the presence of the unknown man that undid me of my sight, killing both my sense of smell and sight by taking one away and overstimulating the other. It was torture. As the unknown man moved away from beside the bed, I heard a light click, did he unlock the handcuffs? Or did he tighten them? I still couldn't move my hands next to me.
As the scent worsened and continued to fill the room a soft voice became hearable. Raphael was back but sounded way different from normal. His voice sounded harsh and cold unlike the usual warm and welcoming voice I was used to hearing.
Before anything else could happen I woke up, for real this time. To an empty bed, to Raphael's sweet voice speaking the same foreign language again. To him calling somebody. Probably work stuff.
I dragged my body out of bed, got myself to shower and get ready before stumbling into the living room.
And then realising that I forgot a top, which resulted in Raphael flushing red and covering his eyes upon seeing me.
After rushing back to put on a top, going back and apologising a million times for the mishap, Raphael and I finally sat down to eat breakfast"who was that?"I looked up at him, Raphael chuckling at my attempt of not falling off the chair as Tourettes felt like making my whole body shake and jerk to the side."Just somebody from work and it seems like you're having a bit of trouble staying in your chair properly~" "you think?"and I landed on the floor"ouch"I whined and pouted, only to be helped up by the nice male before me.
"All okay?~"I nodded, smiling upon receiving a small kiss on my forehead. "Be careful okay?~"I nodded again, sitting back down on my spot. After thinking for a bit, I spoke up, breaking the silence. "I had a very strange dream last night" his head perked up, attention fully directed on me as I told him everything that happened in the dream, from first the unknown man in the murder scene, then the piano playing to eventually the place where my senses were tortured. Raphael grabbed a pen and some paper, putting it down next to my plate of oatmeal"can you draw the male?~" I stared at him, as if he asked something completely ridiculous.
After asking again, I did as told, drawing the slim face of the male as well as I could, cheekbones standing out as well as his collarbones in the part of the opened flannel he wore, down to the simple dress pants, to the simple pair of converse he'd worn in the dream. From the pale skin to his exhausted and sorrowful eyes, from his parted lips to the way his arms hung next to his lifeless body, standing there like a living corpse.
As Raphael studied the detailed drawing, his eyebrows knitted together with confusion, his hands holding up the piece of paper. It took some time before he parted his lips to speak. "Has he appeared in your dreams before?~"was all he asked before tilting his head up to face me. I shook my head which was tilted down, eyes stuck on the, now cold, oatmeal.
A sudden wave of exhaustion brushed over me, something that seemed to drain me from all energy I had in my body as it lifelessly collapsed onto the floor.
The man filled my sight. He who tied me up before in the dream. The man in simple clothing. The man with never ending sorrow. The man with the smirk that showed mischief and malice.
He was sick.
He dropped to his knees.
His back rounded as if he were a cat.
He needed help.
He was mischief and malice combined with the beauty of an angel.
He was an angel turned bad.
A fallen one.
A forsaken one.
He craved notice.
He craved attention.
He craved one other's misery.
He was the devil's right hand man.
He was the delirium Raphael got put up with.
He was the source of the craze he'd gone into one too many times.
All of this was him to blame.
He made this happen.
And he will pay.
That is certain.
YOU ARE READING
Twisted #Wattys2019
Short StoryUnusual dialogue system that doesn't get used as far as I know but to differ the dialogues from each other(this is just a personal preference of mine to clear up any confusion about who's talking) ------ THIS BOOK IN NO WAY IS INTENDED TO SUPPORT T...
