“T-minus twenty seconds!” Henderson screamed at me from below, barely visible through the cacophony of red and blue lightning - and the dark, dusty haze that seemed to shroud everything in the Upside Down.
“Got it!” I shouted back, not pausing my solo for even a second. With my boot I knocked a knob on the amplifier, and the volume raised even higher. The vibrations rattled my skull, shook my bones, and I nearly lost balance on the metal roof of my camper. I squeezed my eyes shut against the grit and the noise and the sight of a cloud of demo-bats in the distance.
I knew the song - Master of Puppets - like the back of my own hand, never faltering, never hesitating. I could hear the lyrics ringing out into the endless night even without singing it. Instead, I screamed myself hoarse, wordless, nearly inaudible over my guitar. Silently, I thanked her for staying strong. My fingertips felt slick with blood, rubbed so raw that I couldn’t feel her strings anymore - and yet, I still never slipped.
“Ten seconds!”
I gritted my teeth, sweating underneath my bandana. Keep playing, Munson. You’re no hero, but you can do this. Do not run away. Not again. Never again. Every second that crawled by felt like infinity. The song, as long as it was, was now hours long. Days, even. But it was worth it - worth it to buy time for my friends, praying for a miracle to save them, to help them finally slay Vecna. Roll for damage, I thought, crazed. And then, when did they all become my friends?
“Five, Eddie! Now! Now!”
A final, screeching note sounded out, grating my teeth, slicing the clouds, burning the air, bloodying my fingers. And then, with a gasped apology, I threw my guitar aside and slid off the camper. A jolt of pain stabbed up my ankle when I landed on the uneven ground, but I ignored it to push Dustin and myself through the door and slam it behind us. Collapsing against the door, I panted heavily, looking at him.
Suddenly, a great shining star of a toothless grin spread through the grime on his face, and he leapt at me and clutched my shoulders and I clung back to him like a lifeline. Our cheers rang out.
“That was– the most metal– thing– EVER!” he screamed in my ear, and I screamed back with the biggest grin I’d ever worn, my throat raw and burning. And yet, in the back of my mind, I could not help but think that once again, I had run away. The creeping feeling of dread spread through my veins like ice, a coldness that spiked further through my heart when we both heard a sound that made us freeze.
Scrabbling on the roof. Tiny wings scratching at the windows we had boarded shut, clawing at the doorknob, at the patched up holes. In unison, our eyes were drawn to the single, small vent in the ceiling a few feet away. A rustle in the shadows and then–
“The demo-bats are getting in!”
YOU ARE READING
Twisted Dreams
PoetryA collection of short stories, poems, and half-written ramblings. ~•°•°-----------------------------------《☆》 dream \ ˈdrēm \ 1 : a series of thoughts, visions, or feelings that happen during sleep ~•°•°-----------------------------------《☆》 night·m...
