I slept as well as anyone could curl up on cold stone steps to a cemetery. Even though I was beginning to sleep deeper, the feeling of numbness in my butt started to intensify; however, the pain from the numbness didn’t stop me from sleeping. It just kept me within the lighter area of sleep. As I slept I began to have the same dream from the night before, but it felt different; like a continuation of a movie’s cliff-hanger ending.
I’m running, no, I’m being chased. Screams from women echoed in my ear, voices of men rang through the loudest. As I continue to run, the feeling of fear began to sprout in my throat, constricting my airway. The sense of hot tears streaming down my cheeks burned, and the racing of horrifying thoughts seemed to blur in my mind. My arm is pulling and directing me along what seemed like a narrow pathway, like a hallway; the grip on my wrist was strong, but at the same time gentle and reassuring.
As I run, I can see glimpses of the person pulling me. First, I saw their feet; what was odd were the sandals, they looked like geta shoes worn by Japanese people along time ago. Next, I caught a glance of their back; I assumed from their broad shoulders that the person pulling me was a man, but his hair was so long…it’s so beautiful, like a silvery stream against his deep blue clothes. He’s clothes…wait, a yukata?
I was so distracted by the person pulling me that I didn’t notice the sounds of screaming fading. When I did notice, it was only after the man pushed me into what felt like a little room. The room felt like a crawl space or a storage area of a closet, either way, I had to sit on my knees when in it. The hot tears from before weren’t burning my cheeks now, but the constriction of fear in my throat remained. There are so many questions I need to be answered but no way for me to ask.
He mutters something but I can’t hear it. I looked up at the man, but even with the lack of tears and a clear view of his face, I couldn’t make it out completely. Who is he and why is this happening? He closes the door, and I sat there in the darkness. This dream feels so real, I know it’s a dream but why do I feel like this has already happened to me?
I waited in the small room for what felt like hours. This gives me the chance to examine myself. With the little light I had from the crack from the door, I found I was wearing a truly extravagant outfit. From what I could tell I was wearing a large layered kimono, like what the royals of Japan used to wear. I couldn’t figure out any reasons why I’d be wearing one, but the pattern on the sleeves drew more of my attention than any logical thinking could; the sleeves where a layering of a normal under layer topped by several colored silk robes, the first two were tied with an obi that matched the under layer. The material and designs on the silks were so lovely that it was hard for me to take my eyes off of them; bamboo stocks, Kio fish, and butterflies all over the material. Yet no matter how hard I tried to make out the coloring of the fabrics, it would look fuzzy and difficult to make out, but the primary colors I could make out were reds and yellows.
Then I heard a loud sound outside of my darkroom, like a wall or a door, was being knocked down. Footsteps entered next and they moved cautiously like they were searching for something. Was it that man again or someone else entirely? I slowly opened the door and peeked out; I can’t see him, but there are men in the room. Tossing everything over, shouting at one another. Why can’t I understand what they’re saying?
Suddenly, the door flies open and a tall, bloody man stood over me. His face, I can see with great detail; a dark goatee on his lip and chin, and deep, set-in brown eyes that made me want to slink away from him, eyes that had no light in them. Evil, empty eyes. A shiver raced up my spine, it was like staring into those eyes was like staring at death.
He pulls me out of my hiding place by my hair; I can feel his strength ripping my hair out of my scalp, even as I slept. Anger was in his grip. I squirmed, trying to get away, but I can’t. I see something in his other hand, something shinning in the limited light. A sword.
Fear sets in again, my whole body was shaking and willing itself to get away, but his grip never loosened. I feel my body getting lifted from the ground; my head feels like it’s being torn from my body. I feel the hard ground hit my body with a bone-shattering impact. Whatever air I had in my lungs was hammered out on impact. My first instinct was to run away, to scream for that man who dragged me into this room, to run as far away as I could; but I turned to look behind me. To look at that man again.
That man; the man who pulled me out by my hair like an animal. The man whose eyes held no light, no mercy, no remorse in them, the man…with the sword now high over his head, stared down at me. Not with pity, or sadness, but with disgust. The look of pure loathing stared down at me. Straight into my eyes. Then…a flash of light.
I jerk awake, the pain from sitting on the stone steps shot through me faster than I was able to react too. My legs and feet tingle with the numbness of lack of blood circulation to them. I stretch them out and looked around; my grandparents still hadn’t shown up. I gently shake my legs to awaken them, as I so I notice something…odd. The world around me was full of mist, was I still dreaming? It’s too late in the day for the mist to be this far inland, there has to be something else going on.
“So you’ve awakened, young one,” a voice softly rang out in the mist.
I quickly put my head on a swivel and looked around for the voice’s origin, “who’s there?” I wined but tried to sound unafraid.
“Don’t be alarmed. We’ve met before,” another voice chimed in.
“Wh-what do you mean?” I chocked on my voice and sank into the steps.
Then two outlines of figures began to appear in the mist.
“If you can hear us in this state, then our suspicions about you were correct,” the first voice resonance through the mist.
“Su- suspicions? About me?”
“Yes,” the second voice echoed.
“I don’t understand…”
“You’ve been having dreams, yes,” the first voice asked.
“…dreams that seem strange, yet familiar,” the second clarified.
I felt sudden uneasy on how accurate these two were being; it’s like they were the cause for the dreams. I didn’t know how to respond, more to the point I was afraid of these voices, now more than when they first appeared.
“We just want to thank you for helping us,” the figure in the mist began to smile as the voice rang through; a darker outline of a smile in comparison to the figure’s own outlining.
“As a token of our thanks, we offer three gifts,” the second voice spoke, with the same creepy looking smile outline.
I could feel myself clamming up, are these evil spirits? What did I do to deserve “thanks”? What are these gifts going to be? Did I put my family in danger, or upset the spirits in some way? “No really. There’s no need for gifts,” I said, trying to sound polite, unafraid, and sincere; but also trying hard not to upset the spirits any further than I might have already done.
“We insist,” the two voices replied in unison. Then their figures began to fade back into the mist, their smiles remained floating in mid-air. So creepy.
“Your gifts will arrive later today,” the second voice faded, as did the floating smile.
“We hope you enjoy them,” the first voice said as it too began to fade.
I suddenly felt scared of being alone and not about what the gifts could be. I shot my arm towards them as they faded from sight. “Wait!” I screamed, but it was no use, the voices vanished from sight and the mist began to lift as well.
“Chiara?” a voice from behind me rang out; I quickly spun around to see who it was. Two familiar faces stood at the top of the stairs looking down at me. I felt a wave of relief and joy flow over me, and I stood up from where I sat; ignoring the tingling pain of numbness of my legs.
“Grandmother, grandfather,” I ran up to them and hugged them tightly, trying hard not to cry.
“What’s wrong, dear,” my grandmother softly spoke, as she rubbed my back softly.
“Where did you run off to young lady?! You had us worried,” my grandfather grumbled, but seemed just as relieved to see me.
“I’m sorry,” I whimpered, that’s all I could say to them at that moment. But as they began to ask me questions about why I wasn’t at my parents’ grave, I didn’t know how to respond; I was confused about why I left myself. All I could do, from the moment we reunited, was hold them the entire bus ride home; the sense of having them close to me, made me feel better and not so worried about what had happened in the mist. But, I knew they’d want answers, and I didn’t know what to tell them. I thought about several different excuses I could give, but I knew I just couldn’t lie to them; not after everything that happened.
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