Monotone | ✔️

Chapter One

It was clear from the start I was in a nightmare.

The way the terrain seemed superficial, dipped in tarnished ink, giving the impression a hazy filter was passed in front of my eyes, obscuring the truth.

The landscape around me was derelict and barren, littered with the odd decaying bush.

The ground below my feet was a murky grey, a monotonous myriad of grey scale colours.

It seemed odd - could this be the whole of my dream? I had suffered nightmares before, of course, yet I had learned to suppress them. It seemed the earlier day's events had induced the all-too-familiar sensation, and I wished it would end, or conclude on this, a bare landscape.

But these wishes would remain that, for I soon noticed warm liquid pooling at my shoes: blood. Insidiously, the scarlet residue clawed up my legs, eating up my body in a greedy manner, sucking and climbing like a deranged thing. I tried to escape its grip yet I was stuck, frozen to the ground with no hope of escaping.

Panic hitched in my throat, actions becoming frenzied as the blood submerged my chest, staining my clothes as it steadily lapped. I knew this was just a fragment of my imagination, but it was so vivid it still wrought distress.

Wailing slightly, I craned my neck upward as the blood continued to rise and rise, tickling my chin, teasing my lips, flooding the proximity of my face. . . I was choking, drowning in the salty residue; helpless, dead.

But my nightmare did not end there. My dreaming form awakened to another scenario, the landscape once again painted the murky, foggy shades. Instead of blood, my mind had conquered another sensitive point: my parents. My parents . . . Their eyes so familiar in their gleaming state, clothes as familiar as their faces, smiling at me in a way only a parent could - with love, gentle reassurance.

My hand seemed to have a mind of its own, and my fingertips reached to touch them.

Encouragingly, they beamed brighter, faces awash with a bright lustre of affection. My apprehension faded slightly, now only raw emotion and longing filling my airways. The scenario was beautiful, wistful, and I wished I would stay here forever. . .

However, the blissful serenity was shattered as their faces started to deform, dripping obscenely like wax figures. Their predominant features became mashed together, creating a gruesome myriad of skin and unintelligible gunk.

"YOU BETRAYED US!" The unison voice was a shock, and I stumbled back. "YOU ARE NO DAUGHTER TO US! DIE! DIE!" The words repeated in a loop, numbing my ears with fervent agitation.

My fear was replenished; a sob escaped my throat. Desperate to evade these ugly renditions of my parents, I recoiled, turning around to find a route out. But all around me were more representations of my mother and father, screaming the same obscene words.

Falling to the ground, I cradled my ears with shaking hands, sobbing relentlessly as they continued. No mercy was heralded, and I felt myself literally crumbling at the force of their melancholy cries. I saw my clothes tatter and rip, my skin peel and float teasingly in the air around me, my blood bubble in magenta bursts, spiralling in a tornado of the fragments of me.

Then, I was no more. Only then did they stop.

I woke. My breath left my mouth in a rapid succession, body shaking. My clammy hands ran through my dishevelled hair, more sweat lining the partitions of my head.