Chapter 3

A cricket’s chirping eased in. Dylan was sitting catatonically. The grass whistled as gentle breezes passed by and the tree leaves rustled. Dylan clenched the bottom of his shirt in hopes of easing the pain. He looked at his arms. There were red burns and bruises, severe enough to notice but insignificant enough to overlook. He shook his left arm gently and laid it back on the grass. Tiffany was still fast asleep. The sun had some time left before coming out for the morning. Dylan watched the sky emptily.

He was still very perplexed. Was it a dream or was it not? He kept getting mixed signals. His body and mind said that it wasn’t, but everything else said the contrary. His head started to hurt. Why was this happening? Dylan started to get a migraine. He sought answers. Dylan could no longer think, because of his migraine. He gave up thinking and rested his head on the bark. The chirping continued.

Tiffany turned her body to the side. Her arm flopped over, squeezing the poor plushie in between her elbow and the ground. Dylan glanced at the unexpected noise. The bird’s empty death stare seemed to be filled with agony, as if it was calling out for Dylan.

“Help me!” imitated Dylan in a squeaky yet low pitched voice. Dylan laughed at his own imitation.

Okay no that’s weird.

Tiffany moaned and moved her body haphazardly. She snored heavily, rolled around for a bit, then opened her eyes. She sat up and stretched her arms. The plush bounced to her lap. She yawned uncontrollably and tried hiding her mouth with one of her hands. She didn’t cover much, though that was to be expected from someone who had just woken up from a good night’s sleep, unlike her fellow friend who still had a migraine.

“Morning,” said Dylan.

She didn’t reply. He took the silence as a “don’t talk to me I just woke up and I’m dying”.

“Mooorn-en.” She prepared to yawn again. Before getting up, she rubbed her eyes and scratched the side of her neck.

“What happened to you?” asked Tiffany. She tied her hair up in an ungraceful fashion. “You look like you got hit by a truck in your sleep or something.”

“Likewise… honestly, I think I did get hit by a truck. I don’t even know what happened.”

“Hmm?” She wasn’t quite sure what Dylan meant. A closer examination was needed. Tiffany’s worried eyes grew tenfold.

“What the hell happened to your arms?” she shouted.

The nesting birds flew away. An early-morning jogger looked their way, but quickly averted his eyes. Dylan glanced back.

“I would like to believe myself,” he sighed, “but I… I can’t even understand what happened.”

“Did you fight a cat or something?”

“What? no?”

“Then what?”

“I don’t know! I had this weird dream that might not be a dream but I still have these injuries, so it most likely wasn’t a dream!” He presented both arms, injuries facing up, emphasizing his speech.

“What?”

“Okay, so long story short, I was in some kind of black void, I found some stuff, I got scared, and then I slipped and fell into a hole where I got hurt badly. When I woke up I suddenly found myself sitting by this tree, with these injuries!”

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

Slight pause.

“… are you sure you didn’t just… perhaps… fight a cat?”

Dylan stopped, then turned away passive-aggressively.

“Okay, I’m leaving,” he uttered.

“Wait, wait! Okay, sorry! I believe you!”

“Uh. Fine… but we really should leave. We haven’t brushed our teeth since yesterday.”

“Right right, but I think that’s the least of your worries.” She glanced at his arms and at his slightly ripped pants. “Tell me more about what happened though.”

Dylan rummaged through the grass for his things while Tiffany crouched to get a hold of the stuffed animal. The sun had barely come up yet.

“So?” inquired Tiffany. She playfully jumped onto the sidewalk’s lines to deviate from the heavy atmosphere, not that the atmosphere was heavy.

“Well there isn’t much. After I fell asleep, I was in a place that resembled… uh… imagine this. You’re in your room at night and no lights are on. What do you see?”

“Nothing?”

“Exactly. Now imagine you being stuck there, but you couldn’t hear or touch anything either.”

“Uh huh…”

“Then you somehow find your bag and that green bird.” He pointed at the bird.

“Uh… huh?” Tiffany stopped listening a sentence ago.

“Anyways,” he turned, “this is where I leave, so I’ll talk about the rest tomorrow.”

“You can come to my house if you want. We should look at your wounds.”

“It’s okay, I’ll pass. They’ve healed enough. I can deal with the rest myself. I have more important things to do.”

“Like what?” Dylan saw where this was going and he didn’t like it.

“Like not going to your house?” Tiffany stood dumb.

“Then can I go to yours?” She was very nonchalant about it.

“…” Dylan wanted to brush his teeth in peace even if it was the least of his worries. “No?”

“All righty then, I’ll see you tomorrow.” She left.

Dylan waved. He felt some sort of regret despite the fact that he was the one to have said no. Dylan also left.

The day was starting awkwardly. Tiffany, like the positive girl she was, still looked forward to it. The sun shone brightly, the air warmed up and the neighbour’s dog barked. Tiffany leapt to the side: the dog was more than enough to get a reaction out of her. It was a nice way to eliminate her worries for Dylan. She squatted down to its level.

“Hi doggy! Who’s a good boy!” She gave it many head pats. The dog wriggled under the comfort.

Pulling off a complete one-eighty, the dog started whining as if it was afraid of her, which wasn’t the case a couple of head pats ago. She lifted her hand in concern. Tiffany tucked the bird’s large head between her arm and stomach to make sure she doesn’t drop it. The dog went back to normal, approaching Tiffany to get patted some more.

“Welp, I gotta go. See ya!”

She sprung up and went on her merry way. Unbeknownst to Tiffany, the dog suddenly wriggled and flailed to the ground as if it was drowning. It yelped as its movements became stiffer and stiffer until it dropped. No movement. No barking. The only thing left was the fear that lingered in its now empty pupils.

Tiffany tightened her lips. Her teeth clenched in an unexpected way. Was something wrong? She thought nothing of it. Rather she really needed to go brush her teeth. Tiffany dragged her finger across the wall as she walked away. It was around six feet tall, greyish colour with vivid chlorophyll-imbued vines creeping on its vertical surface; its shadows made the wall look less empty. When she had turned and crossed the street, the vines gradually shrivelled in all directions and withered with its black yet consistently green colouration.

A subtle cramp loomed in the darkness of Tiffany’s stomach. Instinctively, Tiffany put her hand on the thick cloth of her hoodie and sighed an uncomfortable sigh. The sting was definitely uncomfortable but it subsided quickly. Maybe she needed to go to the bathroom, or maybe not.

Once again, her stomach contracted. Once again, she held her stomach. However this time she didn’t sigh. She didn’t sigh at all. The staggering pain kept her silent. Did she eat something bad at the festival? Could it be food poisoning? No, it couldn’t have been. The food was checked fastidiously by the local health department, or so the stickers placed on the front of the stands said. Her period? She thought it had already passed. It couldn’t possibly be that either. Her cheekbones bumped up the skin on each side of her face forming a smile-like grin as she gritted her teeth together. The pain was not one she had ever felt or thought of ever feeling before.

A sudden pulse struck through her mind and evergrowing circular—not that you can see their shape—waves of agony petrified her, vein by vein, inside and out. Her feet were static. Images of nothingness flashed in quick succession, failing her eyesight. The images were flashing, flashing not as in rapid outbursts of light but as in the interval between the ability to see the light of the day and the contrasting darkness of the nothingness of those appearing images. She was shaking. Her eyes were wide open yet they weren’t working. The pain overpowered her thoughts.

Thud. The refreshing sound of two knees falling to the stone cold concrete. Any thought crippled her even further. She plummeted shoulder first and smacked the side of her head as well. In a last attempt to call for help, her hand reached out crawling on the ground and she managed to utter a one-syllable cry, so weak it didn’t even make a noticeable difference. Her face was supported; her facial expression was expressionless. Her body collapsed largely on the sidewalk, but some parts found themselves sitting on the road. The radiant sun continued to shine over the neighbourhood.