Trapped

1. THE DREAM

THE DREAM

I jolt out of my bed, feverish, as though hot coals are kissing my toes.

Urgh, not again! The same recurring snapshot of desolation came more vividly today.

I rub my temples as I recall the scenes from the dream.

...

I see myself in that dream, crying as I scan buildings going up in flames.

Many dead bodies are sprawled on the slimy floor.

Strange globs hover low in the atmosphere, casting eerie shadows on the landscape.

It is as though I am the only living thing remaining in the world.

Out of nowhere, I see a monstrous glob emerge from the ground, causing a massive tremor.

Scared, I begin to run for cover and it chases after me.

...

I rub my arms and sit up straighter, gripping the wooden frame of my bed.

My digital clock glares neon green, informing me of what time and day it is.

5:35 am. March 21st, 2052.

My birthday.

What a wonderful start for such a significant day as this!

Sixteen is over-hyped, honestly.

"Let this cup pass over me," I mutter a quick prayer and take off the duvet from my body.

After a wonderful time of studying the book of James via my bible app, I head to the bathroom for a quick shower.

If I'm to meet the train that leaves for school by 6:30 am, I have to hurry.

I dash into the bathroom and turn on the shower after brushing my teeth. I sing the lyrics of a song that has been ringing in my head for a few days now. My voice echoes in that studio-y way that bathrooms resonate.

Dressing up takes less time than usual as my school dress is already pressed.

With my AI watch on my wrist and my iPad in my slim backpack, I dash out of my room and go to the kitchen to whip up a quick breakfast of Honeyed-Lochus cereal and whole cream.

"Hey, Dad!" I chime as I watch him cross over to the kitchen Island where I was seated. "Good morning."

His eyes have eyebags underneath them and he looks exhausted. I can tell he didn't sleep. Perhaps he was praying, or doing some research in his lab overnight.

He comes closer, kisses the top of my head and mutters, "Good morning, princess. Happy birthday to you. Sleep well?"

I nod grimly even though it's a no.
"Mom's gone for the morning shift, yeah?"

My mom is a nurse. My second superhero after God.
Even though she is rarely at home, I do appreciate the moment we spend together. She is an epitome of beauty and intrigue. She infected me with her crazy love for God and people.

Dad sighs and turns on the coffee machine.

"Yes. Unfortunately, the mortality rate from the water poisoning incident in the slums of Lagos Peninsula keeps increasing and she has to work longer hours at the shelter hospital."

The situation keeps getting worse. I don't understand why the government keeps it under wraps. Sadly, the news gives a compressed reporting of the situation, giving false calm to the yet-unaffected citizens of Nigeria.

Every night when Mom comes back home, exhausted, she recounts how the mortality rate keeps soaring and how they haven't been able to pinpoint the source of the poisoning.

I just pray the water in our own region doesn't get contaminated. That will be catastrophic.

"It is well. We'll just keep praying for her and the affected people."

Dad grimaces and sighs. "Sure we will."

Then, as he begins to break eggs for his own breakfast, he smiles his familiar smile that means he wants to let me in on a secret.

"What's it, Dad?"

"Nothing, Naomi. I'm just amazed by how fast you've grown. My little girl is now a woman."

I roll my eyes, chuckling as I gobble down the last spoon of my cereal.

"I have to leave now or else I'll miss the train. Love you, Dad."

"Study well. May God go with you," his voice echoes as I slam the front door shut.

The morning is cold. The vestiges of harmattan lingers in the air and I regret not wearing my cardigan.

The concrete path I take is bare of vegetation. The lack of plants is now a norm. All the clamour for Green Earth propounded some few decades back didn't work. Deforestation and the toxicity of the soil made it impossible for plants to thrive anymore. Only few countries are blessed with a conducive climate to allow the copious growth of plants.

People go about their businesses in an automated manner. I cannot even say hello to a neighbour or smile to a stranger without looking weird.

Soon, I arrive at the train station. I'm a few minutes early so I wait a while before the train glides to a stop at the station. People enter with precision, using their cards to gain access. No jostling or pushing.

I enter my school's compartment in the hyperspeed train that links all the education centres in Lagos.

As I walk down the aisle, everyone stares at me with an awkward expression. At first, I presume it I'm not the target of their awkward looks but I soon begin to hear some whispering and snickering that include my name.

'What's wrong?' I wonder, apprehensive.

I hastily rack my brain for anything that might be out of place. I even check my dress for stains or what nots. Everything seems in place to me.

I reach my usual seating spot just in time. That is, before the other students melt me with their laser gazes.

"Naomi, you have something nasty on your face!" Cordelia, my best friend, whispers to me, looking at me quizzically as I settle in the seat next to her.

I frown. "What? Where?"

"Right there. Just beside your nose."

I touch my finger to the spot she points at and look at the smear on my finger.

My heart almost rips apart when I see it.
It is that same glob I have been seeing in my dreams for about a week now.

~~~

Author's note: Hello, guys! Happy new month!

I bring to you a new story fresh from the Throne!

Wish me God's best and the grace for unbreakable consistency.

What are your opinions about the first chapter?

Naomi has a lot to face and this is just the beginning.

For those who might not know, a glob is a fancy word for a thick, round, shapeless, substance.

Anyhoo, thanks for reading. Please show your support for this story by commenting, liking and sharing.

Love and peace,
PeculiarPraise.