Compilation

4:45am

The dreams were recurring and frightening, to say the least.

Every night, she'd smother herself in layers of blankets, the lights in the hallways on to maximum brightness and dreamcatchers surrounding her - dangling from her ceiling, from the door handles, from the walls. The webs were rumored to trap nightmares, but they never worked. At least, never for her.

She was scared of sleep. Terrified, even. She dreaded falling asleep - for it was when she would dream the same events in her nightmares. Again and again.

It started the same way.

She was walking along a trail in the woods. Boughs of willows bowed their drooping heads to the floor and dangled gently in the breeze, and ferns and flowers bloomed on the path, as if welcoming her. Welcoming her home. The sun was setting in the distance, beyond the peaks of a purple mountain range, giving off a lovely golden glow as it slowly sank. The sky was splashed with an array of colours: blood-red, golden-orange, violet, pale blue, dusty pink. Vivid. Serene. Beautiful.

She kept walking along the path. And walking.

She had to meet someone. She didn't know who, but he was important.

He?

She kept walking.

She finally emerged from the forest to a desolate, decrepit grey stone building. No smoke puffed out from the chimney flue. The nearby pond had dried up, leaving behind a hollowed, shallow dip. The small, rectangular entrance of the building gave way to a dim room beyond.

She got chills down her spine simply looking at it.

But she kept walking. Past the building and around the corner.

Behind the building was a small, dark shed.

He was in there. She knew it.

She kept walking.

What she didn't expect was there to be two men along with him. She inhaled sharply and ducked behind a nearby tree, peeking out.

No. No, no, no! They couldn't be here. Not right now. She had unfinished business to handle, and they had come before she could deal with it.

One of the men was tall and lanky with a pallid complexion, his skin deathly pale, with an assortment of knives and guns attached to his weapon-belt. The other was squat but his arms and bare torso rippled with lean muscles from a lifetime of battles and wars. He gripped a rifle, and the barrel was aimed right at the third man's forehead.

As she caught sight of the third man, her heart contracted almost painfully.

"Damien, stop playing around," snarled the second man. "Tell us what you know."

Damien's hands shook. "I told you. I don't know anything."

The second man casually cracked his knuckles, his lips stretching into a predatory, almost feral grin. "Shut the hell up, Damien. We know she told you where she hid it. Tell us now and nobody needs to get hurt."

Her breath caught in her throat. If Damien told the men, she was as good as dead. Both of them were as good as dead.

To her relief, Damien insistently shook his head. "No! I don't know anything! She never spoke of it!"

Bang!

A shot rang through the silent clearing and her hands automatically flew to cover her mouth, muffling the gasp as Damien fell to the ground, blood seeping from his leg.