Terror. A dimension mirroring the living one--but morphed to reflect the imagination of its Overseer. And the current Overseer... has refused to relinquish her power for centuries, tormenting her souls--"terrors"--into becoming... zombies.
Arielle f...
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Arielle's scream echoed for what felt like hours. It resonated in her head, tearing through every fiber of her brain, searing through her ears as if about to rip them from her—
"Hey." A hand wrapped tightly around her shoulder and shook her. "Hey. Wake up."
Arielle's eyes opened to the dim candlelight of the tree-house, and Oscar's gaze wide and perturbed. He was angled over her, crouched to her level, a sense of alarm attacking his usually indecipherable features.
"What... what happened?" Arielle fidgeted out of his grasp and pulled the flimsy blanket up to her neck. The mattress was, as she'd expected, uncomfortable and hard, and she hadn't prepared to fall asleep. Not in a realm like this, in a room in a tree, looming feet above the zombies that haunted her waking thoughts.
"You were screaming." He pulled back and lowered onto his butt, bringing his knees to his chest. "And we may be safe up here, but a scream that loud... that's dangerous."
Rubbing her head—she'd never stop checking if her hair had caught flames—Arielle sat up, still clutching the cover to her chin. "I had a nightmare."
Oscar scoffed and rolled his eyes. "Well, obviously," he shook his head, "but did you need to be so violent about it? Fuck." He gritted his teeth, his jaw tightening. "If they heard you, and I can almost guarantee they did, they'll find a way to climb. For the first time in centuries, zombies will climb. Dammit."
"You think I can control this shit?" Arielle released the blanket and it pooled into her lap. It was wet; she'd been sweating as she slept, and still sensed the moisture all over her neck and between her breasts. "You think I wanted to wake up screaming because of the insane stuff I saw in my dreams?" Her voice raised, and she sneered at Oscar.
Raising his hands in surrender, in silent apology, Oscar groaned. "Fine. But I want to know—what was so bad it had you panting and shivering and whispering in your sleep? Your scream didn't wake me—I was already up and watching you squirm about. If I hadn't known better, I would have thought it was a wet dream, from the way you moaned—"
Arielle reached over at lightning speed and smacked his leg. Her hand nearly shattered at the contact—of course, his leg was lean and hard and muscular—but she refrained from showing her pain. "It was definitely not a wet dream. What the fuck, man? How could anyone be aroused down here?"
He shrugged and ran his fingers through his hair. He'd taken out the hair-tie, and his braided locks flowed freely, spilling over his squared shoulders. "I've never been, but some people are different. Some focus on positive things to get by, and arousal is positive, so..."
"Well, not me." Arielle's cheeks flushed at the idea of a sex-dream, but she had no intention of being positive. Not here, not in this dimension, and not when zombies likely surrounded their hide-out that very moment, because of her. "This was a legit nightmare. But it was... blurry." She gulped, shivers scaling her skin as she recalled the details, the images that had popped into her mind when she'd somehow fallen asleep. "I was outside. Alone. And cold, super cold. And a glowing white being reached out to me, with long, wispy fingers. I thought it was harmless, at first; but then its fingertips shoved into my chest and it was trying to tear my heart out."
