“Look! It’s awake!” It’s that kid’s voice again.

A woman in her thirties rushed to me and started touching my face and pinching my cheek. She has a striking presence with her sharp gray eyes and delicate reddish lips. Her beautiful skin emanates a youthful shine that defies the passage of time. Her hair, which falls below her shoulders, has a distinct hint of gray at the tips, a subtle reminder of wisdom and experience.

“You’re… real, right?” Tears started forming in her eyes.

“I don’t know why you’re being emotional but yes, I am real. And I would really appreciate it if you would stop touching me. Your hands are greasy.” I said.

“Ah, sorry. I just came from the kitchen.” She took her hands off my face and wiped them on her apron.

“Where am I?” I asked. This place doesn’t look like a hospital. It’s someone’s house. I am laying down on a plush, velvety couch, the cushions wrapping me in satisfying comfort. Three sleek, modern round seats beckon in front of me, their simple design providing a touch of contemporary elegance to the room. A solid door stands to my right, its polished wood emitting a sense of timelessness. Towering bookcases on my left reach for the ceiling, their shelves filled with a large assortment of books, their spines an exquisite tapestry of knowledge and imagination. Large woven baskets behind the circular chairs cover an assortment of things, their contents an unexpected treat waiting to be discovered. With its distinct shape and look, each item hints at hidden accounts and exploits. Another door nearby alludes to a hidden realm, urging me to explore further into this intriguing environment.

As my attention moves across the room, I see the L-shaped kitchen. Its glistening appliances and smooth surfaces provide an aura of culinary wonder. Four higher cupboards give enough storage for dishes and glassware, while six bottom cupboards store pots, pans, and other kitchen staples. Two stoves stand side by side, ready to ignite inventive flames, their burners prepared for culinary awe. A well-worn counter is surrounded by three comfortable seats, a monument to the shared meals and discussions that have taken place in this cozy place. The sink, a reliable friend for countless dishes and times of contemplation rounds out the efficient yet welcoming kitchen space. 

The mood in this meticulously created setting is one of warmth and comfort. It flatters me as though it were a familiar embrace. This place feels… cozy.

Am I kidnapped? That’s hard to believe considering that this place looks rather peaceful. 

“I’m sorry. I forgot about the introductions. I am death-” The thirty-year-old woman said.

“I’m dead?!” I exclaimed. That’s probable but… I’m dead?”

“No, you’re not dead. That’s just her name. Death. At least that’s what people call her. I’m Asphalt. You are at Sonow Rock, home of witches and warlocks.” A puppy said.

“The puppy just talked.” This is hard to believe. Am I still dreaming?

“I have a name. Call me Asphalt. I ain’t no puppy.”

An in-denial puppy.

“No, this can’t be real, right? I must be dreaming. Yes, that must be it. Magic can’t be real.”

“But it is real, kid. Whether you like it or not.” Death said as she stood up.

“I wasn’t born yesterday. Enough of these tricks. Did you put a speaker on that dog? Is it trained? Why is it speaking?”

“Excuse me, I’m a wolf.” Asphalt said with disgust.

“You were literally born yesterday. What are you talking about?” Death crossed her arms and looked at me.

“Don’t be ridiculous! Who hired you? Did you people bring me here so I can be killed? Where am I?” It's as if my entire life was ripped out from under me in an instant. I was simply an ordinary college student going about my everyday routine one minute, and the next thing I know, I'm being taken away like a pawn in a twisted game. As I battled with the reality of my situation, my frustration started growing, like a roaring tempest inside my chest. I was simply an average college student living my normal life. Why do they have to do this when I only wanted my bike to be furnished? Being kidnapped is terrible enough.  

“Look, kid. You asked and that’s the answer. Don’t come after us demanding answers that we cannot provide you. I don’t know what kind of response you expect us to have but that’s that.” She left and went to the kitchen.

No way, this had to be a dream. Yes, I am dreaming. It could be the result of all the stress, or a side effect of a drug administered to me. Or maybe this is what I get for studying instead of sleeping for a week. Yes, it's my fault. I must deal with this. If I sleep again, I might wake up in the hospital bed. Perhaps the accident is a part of the dream. I might wake up in bed or at my desk drooling on my research materials.

I need to sleep. That’s what I need to do.

“Maybe… I’m still tired. Do you have a room that I could sleep in?” I spoke. I should’ve been more polite. Even if they are characters in my dream, I have been too rude to them.

“Upstairs. You can use the room parallel to the stairs. The bathroom is right in front of it if you ever need it.” Death said and if I may add, she sounds a bit sad compared to when she first approached me with teary eyes. 

“Death… I’m sorry.” I don’t know what I have told her to make her sad, but it feels so wrong not to apologize after I’ve seen all the light in her eyes drain.

“Oh, would you look at that? You’re sweet, kid.” She said then chuckled. “If you’re tired after sleeping the whole day, then go and get some more sleep if you need it. Sleep for as long as you wish.” She said then beamed. It’s that kind of smile that one would want to protect at all costs. I think I’m starting to like her.

I stood up and went in the direction she directed. Inside the room is a single bed and a bedside table with a lamp. As my eyes settle on a solitary bed decorated with smooth, welcoming linens, the room greets me with a warm aura. Its worn wooden frame emits a rustic appeal that adds character to the decor. A bedside table stands by its side, holding a sleek lamp that casts a warm glow that urges me to unwind and enjoy the tranquility it provides. The table's smooth surface begs to be touched, and the low hum of the lamp produces a peaceful atmosphere ideal for late-night reading or quiet thought. The room whispers promises of relaxation and serenity in this basic yet attractive setting, enticing me to sink into the arms of the soft mattress and drift away into dreams. I went inside and lay down on the bed. The lamp is made of very thin strands of bright red… candy? The design is nothing short of extraordinary, resembling a spinning vortex of honey trapped in memory. The sugar threads interweave, making an intricate lattice pattern through which glimpses of the warm light within can be seen. I can almost taste the sugary perfume that the bulb emits, infusing the air with a tempting sweetness. Its smooth and glossy texture begs for a light touch with my fingertips as if convincing me to pick a piece and relish its wonderful flavor. It produces an alluring ambiance by creating a soft, crimson glow that bathes the room in a warm and inviting environment. I couldn't contain my curiosity and licked it and it tasted sweet. This place is strange. Everything about it is strange but it still feels like home. 

“This dream is nice. Goodnight, little firefly.” I told the firefly who lights the lamp, it flutters about the candy lamp, its delicate wings gleaming with dreamy splendor. Its little body glows, illuminating the red strands of candy, creating a stunning display. As the firefly's glow intertwines with the sweet strands, the lamp becomes a beacon of enchantment, producing a warm and pleasant atmosphere throughout the space. The warm glow of the sugar lamp appears to dance in unison with the gentle movements of the firefly, producing a sight straight out of a fairy tale. It's as if this tiny creature has taken on the role of protector of this precious hideaway, infusing it with a sense of whimsy and wonder. 

The room started to slowly go dark. And I finally closed my eyes.