Tik…tok…tik…tok…

The clock’s ticks echoed through the darkness. It was a darkness with an endless void—no edges, no corners, no escape.

Ryan stiffened with fear. He knew from experience that any movement during the clock's ominous chime would mean doom for him. His limbs would dissolve, beginning with his fingers, then his hands, and eventually his entire self.

Ryan froze and felt his breath catch in his throat.

The clock's beat accelerated, heightening his fear. Sweat trickled down his spine as he tried to listen. Each tick seemed like a death knell.

'Shit! Not this dream again,' he cursed inwardly.

The same nightmare had haunted him since childhood. He couldn't recall the first time it happened, but always the same scenes.

Each time he would wake up exhausted and shaken.

Tik…tok…tik…tok…

His tension raised when he heard the clock’s sound gradually fade.

'Here we go,' he murmured to himself, ready for what would happen next.

Then came the footsteps—tap…tap…tap…tap…

They echoed through the darkness and became louder as if someone was nearby.

Ryan focused on the sounds. His heart pounded. Sweat continued to stream down his spine.

Suddenly, the footsteps quickened like someone was doing a frantic sprint toward him. The clock's ticking still echoed, and Ryan did not dare to move.

'Damn it! Hurry up!' he panicked.

The footsteps were closing in but he could not see anyone nearby. Strangely, he could see his own body, but nothing else. It was so dark.

Tap…tap…tap…tap…

Finally, he could not hear the clock sound anymore, only the footsteps remained.

Ryan bolted, running as fast as he could. He didn't care about direction—he just needed to escape.

But the footsteps were matching his speed.

'Arrghh….damn it! Why can't I just wake up?' he cursed with haggard breath.

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Ryan sprinted like a wild person driven by his survival instinct. But the footsteps stayed beside him.

'Damn it! Damn it!' he gasped.

His lungs burned. He kept running into the endless darkness without knowing how long he had been running.

Then, he heard a thunderous growl in front of him.

Massive fangs erupted from the shadows with glistening sharp tips. They were enormous—longer than his arm and thicker than his thighs. Its color was soft-white and glowed, contrasted sharply with the surrounding darkness.

It was the open maw of a gigantic beast. The growl deepened.

Ryan gazed at the gleaming teeth with terror while kept running.

He screamed through the top of his lungs and changed his running direction. But it was too late. The beast’s fangs snapped shut around him. The hot and decaying scent enveloped him, making him could not breathe.

He squeezed his eyes shut and wished the nightmare to end badly.

***

Ryan jolted awake and gasped for breath. His heart raced wildly.

With desperation, he buried his face in his palms and whispered, "Why won't these nightmares leave me?"

He rubbed his temples.

Gradually he heard the soothing sound of waves crashing against the ship. It calmed him and reminded him that he was on the ship sailing to Egypt.

He peeked out his cabin window. It was 5 a.m. in Egypt and the sky was still dark

He rose and poured a glass of water from the desk pitcher. He drained it empty and peeled off his damp shirt. He stood by his desk and glanced at the surroundings. His cabin had a single bed, a desk, and a compact cabinet. Papers were stacked neatly at his desk—all were documents and journals for his next excavation.

He lingered for a moment and closed his eyes. Those nightmares haunted him since his childhood when his parents passed away, and he was eight at that time. Two or three times a week, he would have the dream, and it was always the same. The darkness, the ticking clock sound, the footsteps, the jaw—all the same.

And every time he woke up, he would feel so tired, and exhausted. The dreams were so vivid, that their unnerving realism lingered long after he awakened.

He didn’t bother to put on himself a new shirt.

"It does feel very hot," he murmured. “It wasn’t this hot last time I came here.”

Shrugging off the thoughts, he sat at his chair and began to peruse the documents, drowning himself in his work. He could not sleep anymore, trying to erase the nagging feelings from his nightmares.

At 23, Ryan had rugged features shaped by years of digging through ancient sites. His face was angular, and he was a handsome young man with blue eyes and dark hair.

His father was an archaeologist and obsessed with finding great artifacts. Ryan remembered when he was following his father to some excavation sites, or sitting in dusty libraries. His father would speak about the mysteries of some artifacts, the ancient civilizations as if those people in his stories were alive and breathing. Those stories ignited Ryan’s fascination with archaeology. The more he studied, the more he felt his connection to ancient civilizations.

However, after his parents died when he was eight and he started to have nightmares, he felt a deeper connection to those ancient civilizations. Whether it was from Egypt, Greek, Norse, Chinese, Hindu, even to Aztec, he felt all of the people in the past had something in common. He just didn’t know what it was.

Why did these dreams haunt him? Did something in the past curse him? Was it some kind of ancient spell?

Maybe, just maybe, archaeology would put the nightmares to rest and he would finally be free from it.

He grabbed his jacket and stepped outside his cabin. The cool breeze enveloped him, contrasting with the heat of his cabin.

He stood by the ship's deck railing and leaned on it. Watching the waves stretch far to the horizon. Seagulls echoed in the distance.

He exhaled deeply.

Everything should have an answer, and you just need to look in the right direction. He believed he would find out why he had those same nightmares over and over for years.