The unsettling nature of my nightmares is far from being a tranquil spectacle.
The dream began with a sense of nostalgic comfort as I found myself standing in the familiar surroundings of my childhood home. I tiptoed out of my room and down the creaky hallway, my bare feet making contact with the cold, well-worn wooden floor. The soft, dim glow of moonlight filtered in through the curtains, casting gentle shadows on the walls. As I reached the living room, I quietly opened the door and slipped inside.
The living room, distinct from my bedroom, was a place of shared memories with my family. The plush sofa held the impressions of countless family movie nights, and the wooden coffee table bore the marks of games and puzzles.
The glow of the TV screen in the corner of the room beckoned, and I reached out for the remote control, which was resting on the coffee table. It felt cool and reassuring in my hand as I clicked the power button.
The television screen came to life, casting a soft, bluish hue across the room. I deftly navigated away from the mundane weather report, my fingers dancing over the worn buttons, until the screen filled with the iconic emblem of Superman, a symbol of hope and heroism that had always inspired me.
In that moment, the dream was a vivid reflection of my past, a tranquil scene that stirred deep emotions of nostalgia and comfort. But little did I know, this peaceful reverie was about to take a dark and unexpected turn, transforming into a nightmare that would leave me unsettled upon awakening.
Behind me, the door creaked ominously. Shadows slithered into the room, moving with a sinister, deliberate intent. Among them, one figure reached for one of my cherished comic books, greedily stuffing it into its gaping, cavernous mouth, uttering a chilling cry of "brains!"
"No!" I screamed, my voice quivering with fear.
Beyond these nightmarish figures, I could make out an entire horde emerging in the distance, a relentless tide of grotesque, undead zombies. My once-familiar home was now overrun by these hideous creatures, and panic surged through me as I realized the gravity of the situation.
One of the hideous zombies lunged at me, its grotesque face contorted in a ravenous hunger, and it bellowed, "Brains! Eat! Yummy!"
Swiftly, I dodged its outstretched, decaying arms and grabbed a broomstick, probably left over from a past Halloween celebration. With adrenaline pumping, I wielded it as a makeshift spear and thrust it through the creature's heart.
Normally, I wouldn't have the heart to do such a thing, but these abominable beings were no longer human; they were mindless, soulless zombies.
Suddenly, a thunderous voice boomed through the room, sending shivers down my spine. "You can kill one of us," it declared, "but let's see how you fare against over 50000 of us. We can simply reform when we die, by crossing through the doors of the past."
Dread washed over me as I realized the sheer scale of the impending horror, and I braced myself for an unimaginable onslaught from the relentless undead.
I frantically scanned my surroundings, desperately searching for the source of the booming voice.
Then I spotted it, I was utterly awestruck by the sight before me: the colossal, regal zombie, adorned with its golden crown and silver sword, spoke with an eerie wisdom. It claimed, "Only one person in history ever defeated us, and that person is one of your ancestors."
Determination welled up within me, and I retorted, "Then I'll repeat that feat, but this time with my sister by my side."
The ominous figure grinned, revealing decaying teeth,
and responded, "Too bad for you ninjas. We have taken control of the doors of the past from your ranks, and we're on our way to find and seize the doors of the future."
As the figure's words hung in the air, a sense of impending doom settled over me, and I knew that the battle against these nightmarish creatures was about to become even more perilous.
The horrifying figure continued, its voice echoing ominously, "We have been destroying houses for ages now, and your house and your uncle’s will be the next, and eventually, the entire universe!"
One of the henchmen to the figure's right, a guy named Marrow Blackthorn, spoke up, "My lord Leon, I think that's enough trash talk. Let's have some fun."
"Right, Marrow," Leon replied, his voice dripping with malevolence "shall we have some fun?"
"Yes!" his minions yelled in unison, their enthusiasm sending chills down my spine as they closed in, ready to unleash their nightmarish reign of terror.
"It's all over, boy! You're going to die!" Leon bellowed with an unsettling, bone-chilling certainty as he's ranks raised their weapons.
I woke up, disoriented and uncomfortable, realizing I was lying in a strange and awkward position on my bed. My first instinct was to check on my sister, Ella, who was still sound asleep.
I turned my attention to the grandfather clock in the corner of the room, its hands pointing at seven o'clock in the morning. Panic set in as I realized I was nearly late for my duty of cooking breakfast.
In a rush, I awaken my sister, and together we stumble down the creaking stairs.
"You're late by 24 seconds!" Uncle Fred exclaimed from the kitchen, where he sat in his comfy armchair, sipping on a steaming cup of coffee.
“Apologies," we said together, the lack of sincerity evident in our slightly breathless voices.
"Listen carefully," Uncle Fred's tone turned stern, "We're almost out of chicken, and I need it for the soup. I want you two to go to the town square and buy three of the most expansive chickens. Here, take this," he handed them $50. "And I mean it, don't you dare spend this money on those stupid toys."
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"Understood, Uncle," we replied, feeling the weight of his words.
As we ventured into the town square, we strolled along the winding streets, passing countless charming houses along the way. The houses varied in architectural styles, from quaint cottages with colorful gardens to more modern homes with pristine facades. The morning sunlight bathed the streets in a soft, golden glow, casting warm shadows that danced on the cobblestone pathways. Birdsong filled the air, adding to the picturesque atmosphere.
People bustled about, going on with their daily routines. Shopkeepers set up their stalls, and the delightful aroma of freshly baked bread wafted from the local bakery.
The town square itself was a hub of activity, with vendors selling fresh produce, colorful flowers, and handmade crafts. A lively fountain stood at its center, surrounded by benches where residents gathered to chat and enjoy the morning.
As we navigated through this idyllic setting, we felt the anticipation of our chicken-buying mission, trying our best to resist the temptation of the enchanting world around us.
In the end, our irresistible temptation to savor the freshly baked bread from our beloved bakery got the best of us. While our uncle had taken us there before and found the bread less to his liking after a sample, my sister and I, on the other hand, couldn't help but completely fall in love with it.
As we entered the bustling bakery, the scent of freshly baked bread filled the air, and the atmosphere was alive with the chatter of customers and the friendly bakers. Amidst the delightful chaos, we spotted a familiar face.
"Hello, Jerome, nice to meet you," we said with warm smiles, acknowledging a new acquaintance in the cozy bakery.
Jerome, the friendly baker, greeted us with a warm smile and asked, "What kind of bread do you want? We have a few options today."
He pointed to the different varieties displayed on the shelves, and we couldn't help but be tempted by the choices.
"We'll take a baguette, and a cinnamon raisin swirl bread, please," we replied, our mouths watering at the thought of these freshly baked delights.
Jerome, the baker, quickly calculated the total cost and said, "For a baguette, and the cinnamon raisin swirl bread, it will be $10 bucks."
We nodded in agreement, and I handed him the money before tucking our fresh bread into a paper bag. With our delicious purchases in tow, we left the bakery and continued on our mission to buy chicken for Uncle Fred.
With haste, we promptly consumed the freshly acquired loaf of bread, our mouths working swiftly to ensure that Uncle Fred remained unaware of our recent purchase.
We finally arrived at the grocery store, our sour legs strolling through the hallways, greeted by the store's bright and inviting atmosphere. The ambient hum of shoppers and the background music created a pleasant backdrop for our unhurried exploration. The store was a visual and olfactory delight, with well-organized shelves showcasing a diverse array of products, and the fresh produce section emitting a delightful medley of scents.
Our meandering path eventually led us to the poultry section, where the chickens were neatly arranged in a refrigerated display. A prominent sign overhead caught our attention, reading, "Organic Chicken - $3 per chicken." The refrigerated area provided a refreshing contrast to the store's warmth, and the soft, consistent hum of the cooling systems added to the sense of calm. It was in this serene setting that we made our selection, opting for the organic chicken, which seemed the perfect choice for our meal.
Carrying the organic chicken, we left the grocery store and headed home, passing by the lively city streets on our way back. When we arrived home, the well-lit interior of our living space welcomed us.
"There we go, now let's make some soup," Uncle Fred said with a grin.
"Very well, Uncle Fred," we replied, ready to start crafting the soup with the ingredients on hand and the aroma of the organic chicken still in the air.
We set to work, chopping vegetables, simmering the broth, and adding the savory organic chicken to create a hearty, delicious meal.
After what seemed like an eternity of chopping, simmering, and stirring, we finally finished making the soup. The rich aroma of the chicken broth and vegetables filled the kitchen, and the soup sat steaming in a pot, ready to be served.
"Great, now let's enjoy, shall we?" Uncle Fred said with enthusiasm.
"Of course," we replied, and as the enticing aroma of the freshly prepared soup enveloped us, we eagerly took our seats, ready to savor the meal.
Our moment of relaxation was rudely interrupted by a chilling battle cry that boomed from behind us. "Time to die!" it bellowed, sending a shock through us and making us pivot quickly to face this unexpected and ominous interruption.
"Ha! Ha! Ha! You are doomed," Leon's voice resounded through the room, nearly causing uncle Fred to topple out of his chair.
I offered no response, my thoughts alone echoing the sentiment: "The dream had come true."
"What dream?" Ella asked, her curiosity evident.
With a reassuring nod, I replied, "It's a recurring, vivid vision that haunts my sleep, a bit strange and unsettling. I'll share all the details when the moment is right. For now, let's make our escape."
Leon's commanding voice boomed from behind, "Attack, my fellow zombies! We shall awaken our patron, the mighty Varkath the Cursed, from the depths of the mountain where he lies buried. Our time for vengeance has come!"
The ranks of the zombies raised their weapons – swords, axes, and other implements of destruction. With a mighty kick, they sent the door crashing out of its frame and stormed into the building, devouring comics, furniture, and carpets in their path. Their relentless advance forced us into a corner, our hearts pounding with fear. In the chaos, one of us accidentally collided with the grandfather clock, sending it crashing to the floor. However, there was little time to pinpoint the culprit, as a zombie lunged at Ella, slashing its blade. With a swift, reflexive move, Ella deflected the attack using a walking stick that once belonged to Uncle Fred's father, and she countered by delivering a powerful kick to the zombie's gut.
Uncle Fred bellowed with unyielding determination, "Dare to take over my home!" He swung his baseball bat with fierce resolve, connecting with a zombie's skull. The impact was devastating, and the undead assailant crumpled to the ground, a grotesque spray of blood spattering across the floor.
A sense of overwhelming dread washed over us as we realized that the onslaught of zombies was relentless. Their numbers seemed endless, and our feeble attempts to fend them off were quickly proving insufficient. Desperation set in as we realized that we were outnumbered and overpowered.
Cornered and with no escape route in sight, we felt a wave of despair wash over us. The relentless zombie horde had us pinned in, leaving us with the harrowing realization that there was no path to safety within the room.
Just as hope seemed to dim, a window caught our attention. It provided a slender glimmer of opportunity. Without hesitation, we decided to take the risk, climbing out of the window to seek safety beyond. It was a daunting choice, but the threat of the approaching zombies left us with no other option. With adrenaline pumping, we made our move, hoping that the window would lead us to a better chance of survival.
Our chances of survival had improved slightly as we were no longer cornered, but the situation remained dire. Hundreds of zombies surrounded us, chasing innocent people in a frenzied hunt. Our only viable option was to flee into the forest, helping as many people as we could along the way.
Fighting seemed unwise, as we were running low on stamina, and suicide was not an option; our will to survive burned too brightly. With determination and fear as our fuel, we sprinted toward the sanctuary of the forest, driven by the singular desire to escape the clutches of the relentless undead horde.