Chapter 0.3:

Lucid Nightmare

 *If you stare long into the Abyss, the Abyss stares back at you*

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'A dream.

A dream where I can still move and feel the touch in my hand, on the tip of my fingers.

A dream with no sound? And I am all alone.

Is it a good dream? I do not know.

The smell of summer.

For now, I will call it a weird dream.'

John stood in the middle of an open field, with tall grass reaching up to his knees. All he could see around him was grass and more grass -swaying back and forth by the soundless wind- yet somehow the scent of flowers was brought forth.

Small birds would spontaneously form themselves from smoke and then just as spontaneously dissapear into thin air like the smoke from a blown out candle, as if they were merely a mirage from the beginning. They too, didn't cause a single sound to his ears.

It all had a serene feeling, but he couldn't help but feel something was amiss.

'A bit too quiet.'

Two larger figures appeared -the same way as the birds- a distance away from the dreamer. He could somehow tell that one of these two were human. With their backs turned towards him though, John had a hard time to make out their appearance, apart from their outfits.

'They are..?'

The one believed to be human, standing to the left looked to have a small stature, as the reddish hooded cloak, with a blooming white flower painted at the center of the cloak with thin white roots protruding out towards each edge, seemed too large on its wearer and the hood looked more impairing than what little it helped with, as if made to be an ornament decorated on the back, extending the decorations of the six petals on the cloak. This oversized hood, however, was worn -completely covering the face of the small figure. He felt like he knew the person, but couldn't quite bring forth the answer in his mind.

Another mildly blown wind brought with it the scent of... Dirt? Wood? Rocks?! There was no such thing within his eyesight!

John could feel his heart beat twice, but he didn't hear it. The soundless pounding of his heart still reverberated within is head though, as his memory easily made up for the lack of sound within this weird dream.

The other figure was double the length of the human, yet because of the dark and hazy shadow around it, it was hard to tell exactly how long its hooded black robe -the only thing clearly visible- actually was. Floating close above ground -John had a hunch that this was the case- the shadowy figure looked similar to the ghosts of some movies. The hooded robe was trimmed with silvery white at the end of its sleeves and along the edge of the hood, connecting with the robe's similarly ashen trim that continued all the way down to the bottom, almost shimmering in contrast to the dark, void-like, robe that screamed of death.

It was nigh impossible for John to remove his gaze from the shadowy ghost and the more he kept his eyes on a spot, the more it would become a dark and hazy blur, causing one to question if the malevolent being really was there.

His heart skipped a beat. A muffled voice came from the two's direction.

'Sound...'

John could now hear his heartbeat, echoing even louder than what he assumed before, yet it was still drowning in the muffled mumbling from afar, which honestly made no sense with how far away they were, but he paid it no mind. He was curious.

What was the ghost saying?

Missing how unrealisticly real his dream had become, John tried to run forward towards the two figures. Running for what felt like hours to him, the distance would not seem to change. Exhausted, bending down and extending his sweaty hands to his knees, the only thing he could do was wishing to hear what they talked about. Of course, nothing happened.

'One... More try!'

Taking a deep breath, John leaned forward, and then ran, -without thinking twice- as fast as he could and as long as his legs would still bear him. Then, as he later laid down in the tall grass that quickly bent under the pressure of John's body -panting heavily as imaginative sweat was running down his forehead- he heard it.

"...And yet, here you are once again... Like always." The conversation ended like that as the shadowy ghost and the human dissapeared into thin air, slowly, like the smoke escaping the wick of a recently blown out candle.

Even if it was the end of their conversation, John had heard it. Still laying on the ground, he began smiling as tears streamed down on his cheeks.

The deep, echoing voice felt like it touched John's very soul. The sadness in it brought tears, but the bottomless feeling of the ghost's voice also caused him to feel a raw, cold fear creeping in on his body. Yet he couldn't help but smile. Until the next thing happened.

His whole dream turned pitch-dark.

The sleeping student still felt his conciousness within the dream, but he couldn't see. He still felt a connection to his hands, his legs, fingers, toes, and he still felt a hard, rock solid sensation underneath him. All of it, yet he couldn't move an inch, let alone utter a voice.

'What is going on!?'

The frequency of his heartbeat increased.

Stuck in this nightmare, an icy feeling crept up on his unmoving toes. He felt the air around him turn colder -and at a distance away even freezing into floating icicles mid-air, completely visible in the otherwise dark space- and now even his arms felt the icy touch creeping up from the tip of his fingers.

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He couldn't help but recall his memories of the book he found in the library at a time like this.

'Who was that ghost? Is this not my dream? That book... Why am I thinking of that symbol at a time like this?!'

Then, the ghosts deep voice resounded. This time, different from the sad yet horrifying experience he first got from it. Now, it felt like thousands of souls empowered the voice -screaming in horrified tones- as they tried to escape their master's wrath, crushing anyone and anything that dared stay against them in their path.

"...Death...Right...Die...Isn't that right?...Right...Right!...Vanish..." Thousands of voices wailed from deep within his head and a stinging pain hit him over and over every time another voice reverberated in his mind.

Then a cackle -clearly recognizable- came from within the echo of crying souls. The ghost's real voice. The sadness, its own fear, and the lust for death was still there, making the unbearable feelings of horror brought by the sound literally cause even dead people to shiver in fear.

The well alive John was no exception.

Frozen stiff from fear for who knows how long, John could only use his eyes to look around in the darkness, with the same sight no matter how much he tried to turn his head. Nothing. Then, his hands felt warmer and a few minutes later the dreamer felt his body relax as the light returned slightly.

He wasn't out of the playful ghost's nightmare yet though.

Dropping to his knees with a sigh, the student felt relieved. It was the first time he felt fear that even surpassed his arachnophobia.

'How did I not wake up from this?'

Questioning his nightmare, praying for it to be over, John felt a hairy sensation poking is left cheek. Not wanting to know how jinxed he felt, John froze on the spot in his sitting position.

'Nope! There's no way. I am NOT turning around. Nope. No.'

A few seconds went by as the petrified boy did not dare do anything right now. Then, as if on queue, he felt something ruffle his black hair and a wet sensation dripping onto the back of his neck. Stiffer and paler than he thought was humanly possible, John turned his head upwards. It got worse.

Above him, hanging up-side-down with six giant legs on a spiderweb that seemed attached to thin air -with its two front legs lifted up in the air after Johns sudden movement- was a giant orange, fuzzy spider, looking right into his eyes with an excited air around itself.

'Is it mocking me!?'

Not thinking twice, with the constant sound of his heartbeat, John turned around immediately to run.

Then it dawned upon him. The ghost.

Standing just a few centimetres away, was the hooded ghost, staring right into John's very own eyes. The dreamer felt an even greater fear. Under that hood, there was only darkness, and a pair of red eyes, sucking the very living essence out of those who met its gaze. Listening to an even more intense cackle than before, John realized, as his breaths grew heavier by the second, just who exactly this ghost is.

With a heavy breathing, John woke up from his nightmare and rose -half sitting- on the bed. Grasping air with his left hand, and holding the blanket with his other.

Except there was no blanket in his hands. In fact, there was not even a bed underneath him. Sitting on a stone floor inside a cramped room with only one window, a bookshelf, a desk, many books and wooden splinters, John blinked quickly with his eyes in denial.

A high-pitched scream came forth before he realized it.

~Flashback End~

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"And that's how I got here... And my body was in this state..."

'...Right...'

Abusing the poor wooden desk with his fists -getting himself more hurt than the desk itself in the process- while catching up to his current situation, John stopped to take a look at his body again, then letting out a deep sigh before continuing his 'abuse-on-wooden-desks' streak.

"Right... I'm still dreaming after all. There's just- just no way. I'll just go back to bed and wake- wake up at home, ready for classes in the morning."

'Yes... It's all still a dream after all'

John said so, as he stopped abusing the desk, and walked over to the cold stone floor with blue markings. Once there he laid down with his face towards the ground. He didn't want to look at anything but the stable existance underneath him right now.

"There's just no way I'm in another world... And I can't possibly be female... I saw my little one before I went to bed after all!"

...

Groaning, then turning her head to the side, facing one cheek up, she looked at the earlier abused wooden desk. It seemed to give her a look of pity from where it stood.

"...And I really need to find some clothes or I'll catch a cold."

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And theres the end of the prologue! *clap* *clap*

It also means most of the tags are there. (I sneakily added 'Action' for the future)

I'd love your opinion on what you've thought so far.

(And I hope nobody got creeped out by spiders.) -Would this mean this fiction is suited for the 'psychological' tag??

And what classifies as Martial arts? :c