Karen’s vision swirled in the basement’s eerie glow, his mind teetering on the edge of reality. Half a month ago, he’d awakened in this alien body, surrounded by strangers who called themselves his family. The shock and disbelief had faded slowly, replaced by an acceptance that he’d somehow crossed over into another world. This was not his life, not his body, but reality insisted otherwise. He’d spent days grappling with this inexplicable truth, dissecting each memory for any sign of illusion, but the clarity always remained: this was real.
Yet now, in the flickering dimness of the Imolace household’s basement, he knew something was wrong—terribly, fundamentally wrong.
He stood over the body of Jeff, the deceased welfare case they’d brought in, ready to assist Aunt Mary with his preparation. But when he’d reached to turn Jeff’s head, something shifted. It was as if the very air around him twisted, pulling him inward like a whirlpool. A harsh crackling sound filled his ears, an old radio static that buzzed louder, drowning out his thoughts. And then, she appeared.
A towering figure in blood-red high heels.
The woman’s face hovered above him, her mouth slowly widening past the limits of human anatomy, stretching as if on invisible hinges. A sickening sound, like the unzipping of fabric, filled the air as her mouth split in two, revealing gaping teeth and a disturbingly agile tongue, long and serpentine, that slithered from her jaw with unsettling precision.
Karen knew—he knew that this was not reality.
“This is a dream,” , he repeated to himself, clinging to the mantra as the surreal scene unfolded. A term flashed in his mind: *hypnosis*. He was not physically here, confined instead within the prison of his mind, stripped of his senses, suspended in an inescapable, horrifying illusion.
The woman’s massive figure leaned closer, her teeth parting further as her mouth stretched, snapping in his direction like a gecko preparing to devour a tiny insect. The grotesque tongue flicked out, catching him in a grip that was both clammy and strangely warm, wrapping around him and lifting him effortlessly from the ground.
A disorienting sensation overwhelmed him. It was like being thrust forward on a pirate ship’s ride, only far more intense. His stomach churned as if on a pendulum swing, a tickling sensation building until it became unbearable. He felt as though his very soul was being yanked from his body.
“This is a dream,” he chanted mentally. *I have to wake up.*
Karen shut his eyes tightly, desperate to break free. He didn’t know what had triggered this nightmarish encounter, but he recognized the symptoms of lucid dreaming, a state he’d experienced once or twice in his previous life. This was different, more visceral, but his mind instinctively reached for the familiar techniques, dragging the horror of the unknown into a framework he could understand.
Dreams had rules, he reminded himself. Just as a lucid dream could be controlled, this nightmare could be broken.
Forcing calm, he focused inward. Normally, people slip into wakefulness after a time within dreams, but some dreams snare the conscious mind, trapping one in a nightmare. He recalled hearing about “sleep paralysis,” a state where one is aware but immobilized, unable to rouse themselves from sleep. But he’d also read about “self-deception” within dreams, where the mind creates layers of false awakenings, each one trapping the dreamer deeper, pulling them under an abyss from which there is no escape.
The consequences of such entrapment could only be guessed at. The unlisted death certificates that read: “Died in a dream.”
The woman’s massive form loomed closer, her tongue pulling him inexorably into her gaping mouth. Karen knew that if he did not wake up soon, he’d be lost—devoured within this nightmare with no way to return. A wave of helplessness washed over him, but with it came a fierce determination.
He would not die here.
Inhaling sharply, he summoned every ounce of willpower and, in an act of sheer defiance, began to sing. His voice, trembling at first, grew stronger, the words spilling out in a song he remembered from his past life:
“Arise, you who are downtrodden and oppressed...”
He sang louder, the words filling him with resolve, grounding him in the belief that he could fight his way out of this quagmire. As his voice rose, the nightmarish scene began to waver, the crunching sounds of his own body being chewed fading into silence.
Karen’s voice surged with newfound strength, shattering the shadows that coiled around him. The woman’s distorted form wavered, her eerie smile dissolving into a smear of shadow and light, her tongue retracting as her grotesque features twisted in confusion. Through his defiant chant, he felt himself rise, freed from the suffocating grip of the nightmare.
His voice broke through the static, piercing the fog that had clouded his senses, each verse pushing him closer to consciousness, and then, finally, he heard a voice—a distant, echoing question:
“Eh… who are you?”
The words hung in the air, filled with both confusion and surprise. Karen seized on the opportunity, clinging to the fragment of reality offered by the voice. *Open your eyes,* he urged himself. *Wake up.*
He felt himself ascending, the darkness peeling away as the basement’s dim light replaced the nightmare. His eyes fluttered open, and he saw Aunt Mary kneeling over him, her face pale with worry.
“You scared me to death, Karen! Do you know how frightening it was to see you just collapse like that?”
Karen took a shaky breath, her words grounding him, pulling him back fully into reality. The woman, the towering heels, the tongue—they were gone. Only the basement, Aunt Mary’s anxious face, and the silent body of Jeff on the stretcher remained.
With a weak smile, he whispered, “I’m fine, Auntie. I think I just… lost my balance.”
A shadow caught his eye—a small, lithe shape at the door. The black cat, Poe, watched him from the doorway, its piercing gaze holding an unusual intensity. Karen shifted uncomfortably as he noticed the cat’s eyes flickering between him and Jeff’s body, an awareness almost unsettling.
A trickle of warmth ran down his face, and he reached up to find his nose bleeding. Aunt Mary winced and quickly explained, “I… I had to slap you to wake you up.”
Karen chuckled weakly, nodding. “Thank you, Auntie.”
“Go upstairs, get Mina to clean you up. You don’t need to be down here anymore,” Aunt Mary insisted, her voice firmer this time.
Karen’s eyes drifted back to Jeff’s body, something inside him churning with unease. That vision… that nightmare had started the moment he tried to turn Jeff’s head. Could it somehow be connected to the corpse? He shook off the thought as a shout from the basement stairs pulled his attention.
“Mom, Grandpa is back!” called Lent, Aunt Mary’s son, who appeared at the top of the stairs.
Karen’s heart skipped. Grandpa—Dis Imolace—was a man of quiet authority, someone who commanded respect and instilled fear without effort. As Lent came down, he caught sight of Jeff’s body, barely flinching. For a child raised in this house of death, the macabre had lost its shock.
Mary turned to Lent and instructed, “Take your brother to Mina for the first aid kit.” She eyed Karen’s nose, frowning as though her slap had dealt a harsher blow than intended. “His nose needs tending.”
“Yes, Mom.” Lent grabbed Karen’s hand, leading him out.
At the rotating basement door, Karen felt the imposing presence of his grandfather, standing at the top of the stairs. Dis Imolace’s figure wasn’t large, yet he exuded an aura of strength that radiated stability. Karen’s own nerves calmed just by seeing him.
“Grandpa,” Lent called, his voice a mixture of respect and awe.
Karen echoed the greeting, receiving only a curt nod in response. His grandfather’s gaze was unreadable as he descended, barely glancing at Karen’s bloodied nose. Dis’s silence seemed to say everything—he had far more pressing matters to address.
Lent gave his grandfather a wide berth, tugging Karen along. The cat, Poe, had followed Dis’s path, and now the two faced each other, the black cat tilting its head inquisitively at Dis.
“Feeling leisurely today, are you?” Dis murmured to the cat, a wry note in his voice.
The cat flicked its tail, a silent answer, before turning and sauntering away. Dis’s attention shifted to Mary, who was hastily trying to extinguish a cigarette she’d impulsively lit.
Coughing as she tried to hide the smoke, Mary stammered, “I… won’t smoke in here again, Father. I… promise.”
Dis ignored her apology, his gaze resting on Jeff’s body with an intensity that sent chills through the air. He reached forward, lifting one of Jeff’s eyelids and pressing his hand to Jeff’s chest. Dis’s brow furrowed, a brief tightening in his usually composed expression.
“Tell me, what just happened?” he asked, his voice low.
Mary floundered under his gaze. “Karen… fainted, and I… I had to wake him with a slap.”
“Karen fainted?”
“Yes, Father.”
Dis’s face remained impass
ive, but his eyes seemed to darken. “And then Pei Er came in, correct?”
“Pei Er?” Mary echoed, startled, before realizing he referred to the cat. She hadn’t noticed when the cat had slipped in, but it hadn’t seemed relevant.
“Karen woke on his own, Father,” she answered. “The cat didn’t come in before.”
“Didn’t come in…?” Dis murmured, almost to himself. He repeated, “Karen woke on his own?”
“Yes, Father.”
He studied her, then shifted his gaze to the body on the stretcher. His eyes narrowed as he surveyed the corpse.
“Where was he found?” Dis asked.
Mary handed him the slip that identified Jeff as a welfare case. “On the roadside last night, Father. He… froze to death.”
Dis considered this for a long moment, then issued his command without further explanation. “Call your husband back from the sanatorium.”
Mary paled. “Yes, Father.”
She hurried out, leaving Dis alone with Jeff. Shadows seemed to gather around Dis, dark tendrils seeping from the floor, spreading like wild vines that twisted up the walls, slowly encompassing the room in a dark shroud. He seated himself on a chair near the stretcher, the silence around him deep and unsettling.
Placing his hand on Jeff’s chest, Dis leaned close and, with a voice low and resolute, said, “Now tell me, Jeff—how did you die?”
It was an impossible moment, absurd in every way. Yet, after a heartbeat of silence, the air around the corpse stirred, and Jeff’s body began to rise.
---
This "awakening" scene is drawn from my real experiences, and it's no joke. If there are any friends with similar troubles, you might find inspiration in the "International Anthem."
Originally, I planned to release the book at noon, but I couldn't resist the "urging," so I published it right after midnight, just three hours earlier than planned. As a result, many friends stayed up late to accompany me until midnight.
I'm truly touched.
As an author, this is a tremendous happiness and recognition.
A new journey has begun, and I will do my utmost to write this story with all my writing skills and sincerity.
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