Mixed Up {On Hold}

Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Another night; another dream. This one seemed so much more vivid from the last. With each new night, each new dream, my story unfolds within itself. Every dream adds a part of the story; my story. It was this story that has transformed me into what I am today; the only thing is, I don’t understand any of it.

I’m terrified to sleep at night; I absolutely regret it. I try and stay awake as best I can; but hey, a guy needs his sleep, doesn’t he?

For some reason, every single time, every single fucking time, this dream scares the shit out of me. Everything seems so real; so twisted; and yet, here I am, doing nothing to figure out what it all means. You think I would actually care anyways? Probably not. It really depends on when I figure it all out.

I am a part of this world now. You would think I would be used to it by now. I’ll tell you one thing though. I’m not. How can a guy be used to something he doesn’t understand? He can’t. If he can, then there is something seriously wrong with him. Especially if he thinks growing a pair of black angel wings is something not out of the ordinary.

Now I ask you just one question. This question is just a simple question, but it could be a question of life or death, but it is still a question nonetheless.

What is there to be afraid of?

You know, I will tell you what there is to be afraid of: A whole hell of a lot in this world.

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The rural, old village is left silent. People all around me are running for their lives. What are they running from? I try and call out to them except no answers can be heard. It’s not like they are paying attention, anyways.

The whole scene is like watching everything in slow motion. I can see them screaming, and looking up to the sky, running from whatever is in it. Yet, there is no sound coming from their mouths, no sound from their frantic feet hitting the ground, no sound from me. The only sounds I can hear are those of the dreaded wings from all around me.

What is there to be afraid of?

I look up to the sky, finding nothing but blackness; black as black will ever be. The only lights around are those of the single torches lit by fire. Each one spread out every few feet on the dirt path running through the village. I see a little girl curled up, crying under what was once a market produce stand. Now it is left in ruins, burned to the solid core.

What is there to be afraid of?

She looks to be maybe three or four. Her long, blonde hair was now a dirty, tangled mess. She is scared and looks so helpless. I go up to her and wrap my arms around her little body, picking her up and carrying her along the path. I can feel her shaking. Where I was going, I didn't know. I just keep walking, thinking, hoping, that eventually I will make it out of this place.

The beating of wings seems to be getting closer. The girl buries herself into my chest, trying to shield out the outside world. I don’t blame her. I would have done the same thing if I was in her place.

What is there to be afraid of?

My pace slowly speeds up to a jog, then a full out run. I still carry the girl tightly in my arms. I have to get her to safety as fast as I possibly can. Only one question remains in my mind throughout all of this.

What is there to be afraid of?

What was there to be afraid of? I don’t know. There is an instinct to run. My legs have control of themselves. Every single person here is running. But from who? From what? There is nothing to be afraid of; at least, nothing that could be seen.