Sleeping back at my old home again was a dream come true.
My real home.
It was the only place that really felt like home, a place that made me feel safe and protected.
I snuggled up on the sheets and got up from bed.
I don't understand. I thought nightmares would be even worse than what was happening right now.
Now, what could possibly go wrong?
And just like that, as if reading my thoughts, the whole daydream started crashing down to the floor.
A black, wolf-like beast emerged from under my bed, a maniac-like smile plastered on his face.
I was speechless for a moment, until the shock subsided and I started screaming my lungs out.
The beast's long nails trailed down my cheek, still smiling.
Now that was just plain creepy.
I ran towards the door, running out of my cozy room that would now be remembered differently.
My mom, dad, and little brother were at the coach, watching a movie while eating popcorn.
My mom looked back at me.
"Oh, hi sweetie. Want to have a drink with us?" She asked, holding out a glass of blood.
My eyes widened at the sight.
"Um, mom, I don't think you'd want to drink that, it's blood."
"Oh, but sweetie," she took a sip. "It tastes delicious."
Then, the whole scene in front of me changed.
My dad's warm smile turned into a smirk, he fed on my little brother's blood and I couldn't do anything but watch as his tiny frame fell on the ground, lifeless and unmoving.
My dad's arm wrapped around my mom's waist, she took a small sip of blood from the glass, elegantly.
"Sweetie, why not take a sip? A couple of drops won't hurt."
"No," my voice trailed off as the beast from my bedroom joined my parents.
My mom, not-mom, fondly patted the beast's head.
"Well, Sylvia, dear, no one was really giving you a choice," my dad said, his smirk still in place.
I blinked hard, but by the time I blinked the fifth time, both my parents were in front of me, forcing me to take a sip of the blood in the wine glass. But, of course, I didn't budge, no way in hell would I actually take a sip of blood.
I don't even know who's blood is the one's inside the glass.
"V," my wolf's voice was loud and clear inside my mind.
"Whatever you do, do not drink or eat anything, or you'll get stuck in-," her worried voice was echoing inside my head, but it seems like she got knocked out or fell unconscious.
When I got back to my senses, there were multiple clones of my mom and dad, all holding out the same drink.
A glass of blood.
There were the same beasts everywhere– preventing me from escaping.
God, whatever the plant was, really wanted me to never escape this nightmare. I forced myself not to think about it, not to be afraid because the plant feeds from the fears of the victim to trap the victim longer, probably one of the important things I learned from our village, without dozing off to sleep, that is.
I zipped my mouth shut as my not-moms spilled the glass of blood on my head.
The beasts lunged and I ran.
I ran all the way to another nightmare.
I stopped just as the scenery changed, and I was about to fall off of a cliff. An old woman held out an apple- an apple dipped in blood.
What was this, Snow White?
Just like how my not-moms multiplied, the old woman did too, all of them holding out an apple dipped in blood.
I pushed my way through them, and ran in the opposite direction, because, that was the only thing I could do right now- run.
But each time I ran, I fell into another loop of nightmare, one after another.
After running away from another nightmare, I felt myself fall towards the ground.
And straight into a thousand goblins' awaiting arms.
I screamed as their sharp claws came in contact with my skin, tearing, bruising, scarring.
Felt pretty much real, I'm pretty sure that once I wake back up- if ever I wake back up, I'd be scarred for life.
I struggled against the terrifying goblins' hold, but there were simply too many of them.
I screamed, thrashed, and clawed at them, but nothing seemed to be working.
One of the ugly, horrendous goblin's finger stroke my cheek.
"This girl would make a fine meal," the goblin said, a huge grin on his face. "That should quake our hundred-year hunger."
What? They were thinking of crushing me into some sort of mushy-mushed goblin soup?
"Excuse me?" I said, holding back a growl at the back of my throat.
"Ah, yes, we should feed our food first before we cook her, that way, she'd be nice and fat," a goblin suggested.
"I'm not eating," I said firmly.
"Well, you are, we never gave you a choice," a random wrinkly goblin with a terrible bad breath informed me.
Like I didn't know that.
I was tied to a tree nearby while the goblins discussed my fate, but, luckily, they were having a pretty hard time doing that.
"Let's chop her body and roast it like a barbeque!"
"No, we should make soup out of her organs."
"I'm the eldest, I decide. We can-"
"I'm the chief, I rule. We'll roast her like a toast then crunch her to pieces, that would be the best toast ever."
While they argued about how to eat me, I fiddled with the rope that was keeping me in place. I thrashed and shook myself but it just wouldn't come off, until my wolf finally decided to give me a hand.
Claws elongated from my hand, replacing my once harmless nails.
It hurt but I wasn't complaining.
I slashed the rope that was binding me with my razor-sharp claws.
Finally, I'm free.
From the goblins at least.
Taking my chance, I ran and ran, until I finally reached another nightmare.
It was better than staying in a place where the goblins wanted me mushed and smushed to be their next meal.
I fell and fell- right into a bubbling, boiling cauldron.
I wasn't a goblin's next meal, but my organs would probably be used for some sort of potion, or, do witches eat flesh?