Midnight Disaster ~FINALIST Watty Awards 2012~

Chapter 7 (Revised 4/6/2019)

When I opened my eyes, I was standing on a stone balcony suspended from nothing. The evening sky surrounded me, a light breeze whispering against the skin on my legs. It chilled me, and I shivered through my thin nightgown. I hardly remembered falling asleep, but I knew this was a dream. It had to be.

Cautiously, I stepped over the stones, feeling the cold surface bite into my skin as I peered over the edge. Far below the balcony, a thick beautiful river flowed, stretching away for miles into the distance. The grass on either side was dotted with flowers. A shadow flitted across my vision, and when I moved my eyes, I caught sight of a figure wearing a dark robe on the horizon.

I blinked, wondering if it was a trick of the light since he hadn't been there during my initial look around. The hood was drawn up over his face, but the chill down his spine told me he had noticed me too. The grass around the figure's feet was brown and brittle.

Death, I thought, a second before the figure summoned a scythe from thin air.

He dipped the silver blade into the river, and I tried to quell my panic. Even in this lucid dream, I knew what seeing the Grim Reaper meant. I closed my eyes, hoping that when I opened them again, I'd be in my room with Cameron. No such luck.

I watched Death stroll down the riverbank, periodically dipping his scythe into the crystal water. At first, nothing happened, but after the fourth or fifth time, a tiny trickle of red flooded into the water. It didn't take long for it to diffuse throughout the rest of the river, the tang of iron in the air.

Blood.

I backed away from the edge of the balcony, using the edge to hide the bloody river from sight. The stones beneath my feet shifted, and I screamed a minute before the balcony gave out, plunging me into the hungry river below.

Something pulled on my arm, and I screamed again, lashing out with the fear that it was Death pulling me from the river. I gasped, my eyes flying open to Cameron's panicked face above mine. His wide eyes searched my face as he waited for an answer. Upon seeing him, I sighed in relief, lifting a hand to wipe the sweat from my forehead.

"What happened?" Cameron asked.

I swallowed, unsure if I wanted to tell him about my dream or not. "J-just a bad dream," I said quickly and coughed. "What time is it?"

"Six in the morning, the buttcrack of dawn, just as we agreed."

I groaned at the idea of starting my day so early, but the thought of going back to sleep was just as unpleasant with the hazy memories of the dream fogging my brain.

"Come on, Maya. Don't make me dump cold water on you."

I swallowed again and ran a hand over my face before taking the moment to study him again. He was already dressed, his blue robe folded neatly over the edge of my bed. I wondered if he had even gotten any sleep.

"Okay, okay," I said, tossing the blanket off me.

Standing on shaking legs, I moved over my closet, straining through the darkness to find something to wear. I snagged a pair of camouflage pants, a black t-shirt, and a pair of hiking boots. Clothes bundled into my arms, I passed Cameron to go into the bathroom and dressed.

I stood in the middle of the bathroom for a long moment, just staring at my heart-shaped face in the mirror. I looked tired, unamused, worried—everything floating through my mind showed clearly on my face. Sighing, I trudged over to the sink to comb through my hair. It fell into its usual wavy composition as I poked at the bags under my eyes.

Disgusted with my entire reflection, I left the bathroom. Cameron sat on the bed, staring out the window. His leg bounced with his anxiety to get moving. I tossed my nightgown onto the bed beside him, and he turned to look at me.