The Dream Book (Based on True Visions)

That night, I stood in a small, cabin like room. It was quite cozy, a little too cozy for my likings. A stout candle on a shelf, if thats what you can even refer it too, burns and emits a soft cloud of light, only reaching out a few feet.

I turn to my right and the old wooden panels on flooring creak under my feet. Immediate panic coursed through my veins, fear clenching my stomach. But I simply laughed it off, just a noise; nothing to be scared of.

Now in front of me was what faintly looked like a closet door, and even further right, an old door that must have lead outside. Too bad I would never know.

Observing the door, I noticed it's plainness. Just a piece of old, hard wood, from top to bottom---and thats when I notice the small pool of crimson creeping towards me. It leads from under the door to right under my toes.

A droplet splashes into the pool from behind the door, pushing the liquid further.

The pool has grown too swiftly in such a short amount of time, and no it is surrounding my feet. The substance seeped through my tennis shoes, or so I had believed until I looked down and saw my feet bare, dipping into the warm liquid.

The cabin turns cold, but the puddle is warm and has a pleasant feel against the bottoms of my feet, which I find terrifying. I take a quick hurried step backwards, and the puddle swishes and splashes erupting the cabin with sound.

I become frozen to the core and my footing fumbles sending me crashing to the floor.

Even more startled and frozen, I start breathing irregularly, as if the oxygen wouldn't fill my lungs no matter how much I sucked in.

Air escapes my grasp, and my senses turn numb, my fingers prickling my body shaking with the cold even though the puddle I lay in is warm and soothing.

Then in this moment the dripping stopped. Silence oozes into my ears and my sight comes back from the darkness it was swallowed in only moments before. The aroma of the space I rested in was a sweet iron sweet, but now turned putrid, of rotting flesh. I felt almost relieved like everything was going to be okay...like this was merrily an old pump's leak---rusty water is what the substance is...

But only a half second later the old Victorian style doorknob turns, oh so slowly, so nicely...

Out comes the rotting woman screaming at me for help, "Help me! Help me! Save me!"

Her decaying fingers pry at my eyes, tear at my face, her body smothering me, where I lay only to be taken away into darkness praying to any God to make it stop, please oh please, make it stop, oh dear God, please, oh please, as she rips my face apart with her fingers only to slowly disintegrate into nothingness as she withers in pain inflicted and tortured by some invisible force...

And then I wake, screaming in terror, tears covering my face, and my body in a cold sweat cringing in false pain. I sit up wipe the tears from my eyes and pull open my book. I write quickly while the tale still lasts in my memory: Chapter 1 The Cabin, the Pool, and the Dying Hag...