The hallways were too long and narrow and bright to be real. Almost pure white. And no doors, the hallways twisted and turned and were straight but there were no doors. With resignation covering a twinge of fear, Ryan decided that this was a dream and that he had to go where the hallway was taking him.
The continued monotony and the brightness began to affect him. He could feel a heavy pain forming behind his eyes. The edges of solid walls became blurry, and perhaps the entire corridor was spinning around him and he was walking on nothing.
Ryan blinked, and the confused hallway was replaced by bars. At least, they looked like bars. It was more like stripes of darkness painted on the light. Or on his eyes. A rushing felling gathered around his head, like wind, like he was falling. Falling straight down because the bars stayed the same, upright and clear. Clear, clear black. Then he hit the ground and realized that he was actually standing in front of a cage surrounded by bars.
Something was in there.
He could not look through the bars; instead, the figure inside remained stripped black and white, always partially hidden no matter how he moved along the edge of the cage. The he looked past the bars, and could see her perfectly.
A girl. A young girl no older than he was. She was black, all unearthly ebony black on her hair and skin. Her eyes were fire, red and glowing. He did not move. She did not move.
Save me, she said, her bony wings filling the cage. Ryan could not run, his back pressed against the bars, and he could feel them running together, flowing together to form a solid wall. Her wings closed around him and he struggled, blackness all around him gripping tighter and tighter like a constricting, deadly blanket until he realized that he was rolling around on the floor in the darkness of his own room, wrapped hopelessly in the sheets he had taken with him from the bed in his fall.
He stopped thrashing, panting and wide-eyed, straining to take in some light from anywhere that would let him recognize the familiar objects of reality. The nightmare had passed. The terror he felt faded with the slowing of his heart until he could recall nothing specific. Just the aftershock, like a wave had crashed over him, leaving behind just a disturbing memory.
He slowly rose from the floor and went to get himself a drink.
Links to other sites on the Web