The Dream

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Even though it looked like a deep sleep that you were stuck in, it wasn't.

It was possibly the worst nightmare you'd ever had.

The building had been reduced to ruins before you and you stepped back, trying not to trip over the bodies of your previous friends that had been reduced to empty shells.

Your facial expressions contort your face into a pained cry of loss, emptiness and failure.

You weren't completely sure what you had failed but it had felt like a lot.

"Are you suggesting they've all been murdered?" A robotic voice penetrates the silence of the aftermath.

"No I'm stating it as a fact."

A boy's voice accompanied the robot's and you spin yourself around.

Ready to hurt or even kill these attackers.

Who in the right mind would be quoting Omens 3 in the middle of an apocalypse?

The boy's naive face was fuelled by rage and filled with passion to do harm to others.

He was the antichrist.

And yet, it seemed that there was something human about him.

You could feel his pain that was echoing from the inside of him, bouncing off the walls of his body, never ever coming out. Trapped.

"Do you want me to kill her?" The robot asks the young boy.

If the circumstances were different, you might've laughed at their appearances.

The boy had curly blonde hair that floated on his head just above his eyebrows. He was lean and his face was clear of ACNE. He was wearing black clothes and obviously had powers that he couldn't even begin to comprehend.

The robot had been made to look like an old woman who had her hair pulled into a sharp bun. Her facial expressions were as tight as her bun and her lips were pursed as her hand transitioned into a rapid-fire SMG and began to spit bullets at you.

You stop the bullets in midair, letting them hover in front of you before letting them drop completely to the floor like the empty shells they were.

"You can't get rid of me that easily." You exclaim, trying to creep out the kid as you made the bullets rise back into the air and aim them at his suddenly innocent looking face.

You feel a twist of guilt in your stomach, tightening into a knot and making you feel like throwing up.

One half of you thought that you couldn't possibly kill him, he was so misunderstood.

The other half of you thought that he was a mass murderer and needed to be put away since he had literally killed the whole population.

"Oh y/n." The boy says, his innocent demeanour materialising, "Did you really think you had the guts to kill again?"

You step back, completely surprised by how he knew that you had killed others before.

It seemed everyone was bringing out dark memories about yourself.

But then, reconsidering, he was the antichrist, what couldn't he do?

"I-I need to kill y-" You begin to speak, readying yourself to burn him alive or at least fling him back enough to kill him.

It was too late though.

In a split second, before you could even comprehend it, the corpses of your fellow witches rose from the ground.

The zombies tore at your skin, ripping your limbs apart and feasting on your flesh until you were nothing but a beating heart.

The antichrist walked towards your heart, picked it up and held it in his hand, as if he were weighing it.

He shrugged and sighed as if it were totally casual and devoured your heart.

Leaving your consciousness as completely nothing and your life force reduced to a mush before you woke up.

That Witch BitchTempat cerita menjadi hidup. Temukan sekarang