"An isolophile's collection of Fantasies & Phantasms contains tales of hypnotic whispers of twinkling dreams, fluttering to creation in mind's unknown crevices as manifestation of creatures in God's mind, dreamt while cradled in the arms of sleepy i...
Ups! Gambar ini tidak mengikuti Pedoman Konten kami. Untuk melanjutkan publikasi, hapuslah gambar ini atau unggah gambar lain.
I swallowed and coughed: the air scratching as it bubbled through my parched throat; and rolled my head on the hard surface as the side of my face came to rest against the wooden floor? My eyes snapped open in befuddlement as a hazy view of the lit chandelier on my drawing room's ceiling met me. I blinked rapidly and rubbed my eyes, as the birthday decorations adorning the walls came into view. Decorations for ... my birthday.
I inhaled abruptly and lifted my upper body, supported by the weight of my elbows resting on the floor; while my memories returned to me in flashes: of beautiful decorations adorning the drawing room in celebration of my sixteenth birthday; of the cheery and joyous demeanor of my parents, relatives and friends from school; returning to the room from spacious lawn for the cutting of cake; only to find my exquisitely designed and seemingly delicious chocolate cake - missing; parents, relatives and friends dispersed around the house in search of the cake; and of myself alone, with the enshrouding darkness enveloping the drawing room, and the crushing breathlessness suddenly seizing me, fading my awareness of surroundings to absence as I tumbled to a faint.
I stood up from the floor, dusted and straightened my red cocktail dress and staggered in my heels; walking towards the centre of the room, and gazed around at the decorations but my parents, relatives and friends, and even the cake was nowhere to be found. I strolled towards the door of the room, and rotating its knob - I pulled; but it refused to budge—so I pulled again, harder this time, using my entire body weight; but it was almost as if someone had glued the door to the doorframe, or perhaps bolted it from the outside as my logic muttered. Odd; but why?
"Hello?" I shouted, as questions whirled: Why did I faint—maybe they mixed something in my drink? Who locked me inside? Is it some sort of a prank? "Anyone?" I called again; but like before, it went unanswered. Definitely a prank. No one could have left before the party even started...right? Even the cake hadn't been cut yet; and I refused to believe my friends taking their leave before tasting the cake. "Mom, Dad?" I shouted again but was still met with only the silence. A prank! First, my cake - missing; second, my drink - probably drugged; third, me, alone inside the drawing room - locked. I snickered: What's next, ghosts?
"Jeanine, Cecilia, Lilianne, Heather, Brianna?" I called my friends. Ever since we met four years ago we had been joined at the hip, so to say; always supporting each other, and getting caught in mischief together.
I called again, before curiously approaching the table upright in the middle of the room; as I traced my hand on the long-legged stool decorated by ribbons and flowers, and covered by a peach tablecloth: wrinkled in evidence of the cake having been hastily stolen while everyone was outside. However, what made me curious was what was atop the table in place of the cake ... a knife dripping with red liquid.
