Dark Dreams

A DEAD-END ROAD

My warm and sweaty bare skin rubbed against the cold sheets that rippled with every movement of pleasure. The room, lit only by a white candle, enveloped me in darkness. Tiny drops of sweat evaporated from my boiling-hot body, mixing with the sweet scent of roses that floated in the air.

A large, strong hand crept from my navel to my neck, tilting it back toward him. Dick's body was now almost touching mine. His ice-blue eyes shone in the darkness, looking at me the way a wolf looks at a lamb; I watched him in ecstasy, waiting for him to make me his. He rested his arm on the mattress near the right side of my face and leaned towards me. I licked my lower lip as he bent his head forward to bite my neck like a vampire. Behind him, another naked, muscular body took shape and joined us. Jay began kissing the free side of my neck, which almost snapped with pleasure. The two of them moved like hungry lions above me. I was their helpless prey. Second by second, the bodies multiplied. Haya, Fanny, Amir, Cooper, Katrina, Diego, Chastity... We were on top of one another, naked and without shame.

Our moans and whispers filled the silence of the room, composing a sensual melody that rose and fell.

"Sarah..."

Imprisoned in Jay's arms, I couldn't answer.

"Sarah..."

A serious, metallic voice whispered my name as if it were inside my eardrum.

Dick bit my lip and pulled me toward him, annoyed by my moment of distraction.

"Sarah..."

The voice penetrated my ear, slithering into my mind like a rattlesnake.

Dick's lips were glued to mine, our breathing was linked, and my hands gripped the skin on his back.

"Saraaaah!"

I had to get up.

I stepped naked into the night, following the hypnotic voice. In the distance was a hole through which shone a blinding light.

Maybe it was a door.

I ran toward the light like a moth attracted by a lightbulb. Suddenly, I was in a room. The kitchen of my old house in Blueshore, to be precise.

My father was standing on one of the dining chairs. He was wearing his pastor's tunic.

"Dad, what are you doing?" I asked, frightened.

"Look at you," he said with disgust. "Naked and dirty."

I covered my body with my hands in shame.

From the ceiling, a rope appeared, at the end of which was a noose.

"I'd rather die than be your father," he said.

He put the noose around his neck and moved the chair.

I stretched my arm toward him, screaming: "No!"

The room around us shattered as if it were made of glass.

I woke up screaming.

Through the still-broken window came a gust of wind that pricked my skin – I was wearing only a sleeveless tank and shorts – like a hundred sharp needles. I pulled the blanket over me, trying to protect myself from my nightmare. I cursed my subconscious which continued to haunt my nights with sex, drugs and images of my dead father.

I glanced at my father's picture sitting on the desk. Seeing him smiling, I heaved a sigh of relief. His eyes were filled with love for me and my mother.

It was then that a black raven swooped into the room like a missile. It knew exactly where to end its flight, landing on my desk. "Get out!" I screamed, rushing toward the bird, which was pecking my father's picture.