Nightmare: THE DREAM

Silence… Dead silence. There is neither whisper nor sound. Dense silence takes them up as a black hole does stars.  

swelter… Heat… There is neither wind, nor a stream of fresh air and no puff. The swelter and the heat are choking; it seems there is no air in the lungs. If it continues they will burst in the chest because of unbearable tense.  

STRANGETHING… There is a whole world around but nose doesn't feel anything. There is neither smell of flowers nor savour of humidity, and there is no other odour, even a very slight one.  

Nobody… It seems there is nobody for many kilometers around. Depressive, dead desert… There is nobody.  

MIST… The mist is everywhere. The mist is around. It covers everything like a white-milk veil.  

FEAR… The fear vices the heart; it runs over the body as displeasing chill. As if it wants to wring all the blood till the last drop from the heart.  

She is running. She is running but she doesn't know where. But she feels somebody's cold breath from the mist. There is neither smell, no sound. One can guess about the breath because movements of the misty air are unnatural.  

“RUN! Run, don't stop!” the only idea is rattling in her temples like a hammer. It roars as a diesel motor in silent motionless air. It hunts her; she is alive by the only idea. The farther she recedes the place where she has waked herself the quieter the idea cries, the clearly she feels herself, her soul and her body.  

She doesn't understand where she is running but she keeps on moving. She feels hard sharp stones under her feet. It is very difficult to run in high-heeled shoes. Suddenly one of the ankles turns. She falls down, tries to stand up but can't. Sharp needles of ache hurt the leg. New ideas appear in her mind. “Where am I running to? Why? What is happening? What should I do? How can I go further?”  

She looks round and tries to understand where she is. It is very hard to make something out through the mist. But… There is an unusual world around. It is coloured into bright, too real colours. They are sandy, leaden-grey, brown, misty-grey, milk-white. There are rocks, sand and mist everywhere. IT IS VERY STRANGE. VERY STRANGE. EVERYTHING IS TOO REAL. AND IT IS TOO QUIET.  

She is sitting on a stone nearly half an hour. There is nobody there but suddenly she hears someone's hollow, hoarse breath. Claws of fear dig into her again; they don't allow her to think and to feel. The idea comes to her again as growing and pulsing soul ache. “RUN!! RUN AWAY! FASTER! FASTER! FASTER!!!”  

The instinct makes her go away from this strange and frightening place. She tries to stand up and makes a step. It seems she can go. She makes two more steps very cautiously; and the sand creaks horridly. It is the first loud sound for all the time; it hurts the ears which have got accustomed to the silence. She looks absent-mindedly on the ground - the sand has never creaked so loud as a saw cutting metal. She has looked and gets frightened - she is standing in a pool of blood. The sand has got dry by awful heat and it is drinking the blood in as a man who has lived without water more than three days. When she sees it a wave of fear and disgust comes over her. She moves back involuntary. She is intense and hears the creak of the sand again. But it comes from somewhere in the mist. “THERE'S SOMEBODY!” appears an awful idea. Chill of fear rushes over her; the blood hammers in her temples as a beast willing to escape from a cage.  

“WHO IS THERE?” she cries. The words go into cold milk-white darkness. The voice hardly obeys her. The cry cuts her throat as a knife. It seems if she says a word more the blood will start through it.  

In answer to her question some half-erased shadows appear from the white fog. THEY are approaching, coming closer and closer. Now she can see them clearly. They are awful - alive skeletons, people without arms, legs and skin. They are lacerated and bloody. Rags of soldier's uniform and fragments of flesh hang from them. It seems that all the victims of horror films and bloody catastrophes have gathered here in the white mist to meet her. She can't help turning away or closing eyes not to see this terror. She wants to cry but the voice disobeys her; no sound is greeting from her mouth. She peers obediently at this lacerated and ugly faces which has been men's ones. The awful people are approaching her step by step. They obey only ancient and beastly instincts. Fear captures her. It is so strong that she gets sick. She jumps away from them but they have surrounded her from all the sides. They are growling, stretching hands to her, tearing her clothes and scratching her body. The fear gives her a great power; it makes her to forget about the hurt leg. She rushes forward, pushes apart the crowd and breaks away the ring.  

She is running. She is running again; she doesn't know where but it is all the same for her. She is afraid to turn back or to stop; she runs as fast as she can. She feels the chase behind her back and hears the creak of the bloody sand under the legs in heavy boots. She has never run so fast.  

She sees the rocks through the mist. Endless abysses appear near by. Every step can become the last in her life; every turn of the road peppered with stones and wrecks of the rocks are dangerous. Even madmen who are ready for everything to enjoy danger have never risked so. Another rock appears in front of her. The rock is very huge; it can't be got round as there isn't any path. The only way is left, the way up to the sky covered with black-blue clouds. She climbs the rock. The stones are falling down under her feet; she falls on her knees but she stands up again. She reaches the top by falling and standing up.  

Now she can rest and look round. There is calm and save but it isn't for a long time - they will come soon. She is standing on the ridge; it is very high and steep. “Good heavens! How have I managed to climb here?” Then she feels she has scratched her knees badly while climbing. Her blood drains from her wounds and mixes with the blood the people have dirtied her. She tears a sleeve from her blouse and tries to wipe and stop the blood but in vain.  

They find her there. They are near. They begin to climb the slope very fast and ragingly. They will catch her soon. She looks round and sees a very narrow path. Despair and fear make her to step on it; she goes on it stepping very cautiously as an acrobat on a rope.  

If she stumbles or loose the balance she'll fall in the bottomless misty abyss. A step, one more and again… She overcomes the path step by step. There a long and wide square appears; she stops at its edge. Theirs is no path further, there is only misty nothingness.  

They have reached the square she is standing on. They start to gather round her; stepping back she comes nearer and nearer to the bluff. And now - if she makes a half of a step she will fall into embrace of the faithless mist. They don't come closer, having surrounded her they stopped. None of them tries to touch her; they are standing still as if they are stone idols. And again the mist covers everything round. Suddenly she sees a darling and beloved face among these strange ghosts. There is no doubt - it is HE! It is he, his handsome face; she has come to know it very well, in the slightest details. Good heavens, how he looks like! His face is burnt; there are drops of clotted blood on the lips and cheeks... His handsome face is maimed; but she doesn't afraid of him as the rest who are concealing there, in the misty veil. She stretches her hand to touch his cheek but he is keeping away from her.  

“Serge!” These words cut her throat but she overcomes the ache. “Help me, Serge, please, do defend me from THEM!” He stands silently looking at her with misunderstanding blank glance. His brown eyes are crystalline glass as a well-coloured china doll has. “Serge, it's me, Dana! Haven't you recognized me?” In despair she finishes the efforts to knock until something is clear in his fevered brain and makes several steps towards him. But the people stand between them again, they don't let her to come up closer as if they want to protect, to cover him from her. She still tries to approach; the people roar threateningly. But then he makes a gesture as if he wanted them to stop; it's very strange but they obey and don't try to come closer. He himself does up to her. He stretched his arm to her and it seems her for a moment that his glance becomes lively and sensible. But the feeling lasts for several seconds. She shyly takes his hand…  

They go. He leads her along secret paths and washes. She doesn't know where he is leading her. It's all the same for her. The main thing is he is nearby and the monsters don't touch her. But they follow them like shadows accompanying them as an escort does its king. Soon they do to a high endless bluff.  

Suddenly the mist clears away and she can see him wholly. Fear comes over her as he's more lacerated than all the servants together. Disgust rushes over her like a cold wave. The wave has the smell and the taste of blood.  

She looks round and becomes sick again: there is a cross nearby. A beautiful GIRL is bound to it. Several of these crippled half-men-half-animals make some strange rites over her. And her blood falling to the earth mixes with the sand and makes it brown. The scene is disgusting and horrid. She turns, looks at him and suddenly notices the second cross. It's EMPTY…  

“IT is FOR ME!” a terrible idea comes over her. And these inhabitants of the hell are approaching to take her into the underworld. She cries and falls into the abyss of fear.