[nsw-fic] Short Story: Darkest Dreams

[Hope Estheim]

Shadows quivered against the wall and faded into oblivion as the flame from my candle went out. Darkness entrenched the inside of the tent and the few stars the I could see because of a hole in the roof winked out. I crawled slowly out of the tent and sat on my knees, dusting off my hands and shirt, then my legs as I started to stand. Dust caked my bare feet, but I wasn't really caring at that point... I was just looking for something to patch up the hole in the roof of my tent so as to keep the rain out. Thunder crashed loudly in the distance and I followed the hiking trail back towards the edge of the woods, until I heard a high-pitched scream.

 

My feet took off, running from the side of the trail to the heart of the forest, at least I'd be semi safe from the rain... and I searched high and low. The rain slowly started to make a steady rythm on the leafs and sides of the tree trunks and I slowed down tremendously. My eye lids started to get heavy, until I slapped myself in the face. I had to focus. I had heard a scream from the dead center of the forest and I had to reach the girl, or boy, who had made the scream... I had to protect her or him. My feet once again began to bruise the delicate surface of the Earth. Trees started passing by me in a blur and I nearly ended up going straight out into the clear meadow that was carved, thankfully I was able to stop myself in time, even if my feet were burning, as if they were on fire.

 

My gaze slowly swiviled from my aching feet up to a horrific scene in front of me. There in the clear pasture was a group of cloaked and hooded figures. Druids. I grimaced slightly at the scene in front of them. The Arch-Druid was dangling a knife over a fourteen year old boy's mangled body. Blood spilled and flowed from the top of the crimson stained stone alter that they had set out. I turned and took off running... running for town. I didn't care that I was leaving my cell phone, my wallet, my tent or anything else behind. I just knew that I had to get out of there... as soon as possible. I heard angry footsteps following me, but I kept on running, not even caring what or who was chasing me.

 

My feet drummed heavily against the hearth until my foot got caught in a tree root that was uncovered and my face scraped the ground. Someone picked me up by the back of my neck and the next thing I remember was a dark abyss. I was finally awoken, by a pail of water being thrown in my face. I glared glumly out at my surroundings. I was bound to a warm and sticky stone alter... oh no. I quickly turned my head, trying to see what else was going on, but I wish I hadn't. I nearly vomited. I saw the druids... drinking the dead boy's blood. Little crimson tear drops fell from their mouths as they turned their eyes hungrily towards me... I screamed as loud as I could, but nothing. I was alone, minus the witches that wanted my blood. The arch-Druid grabbed a hold of his dagger once more, the silver blade gleaming in the moonlight. I closed my eyes, expecting to feel the blade pierce my heart... but I felt nothing.

 

When I opened my eyes again, I was in my bedroom, sweat beading my forehead and the sun smiling down on me. "Damn... it was just a dream..." I murmured to myself and headed downstairs...

[machievelli]

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