The Vision

I was sitting at home on my own again – it only happens when I was alone. It started again. I knew what would happen, it had happened before and I was sure it would happen again each time more chilling then the last. I tried to ignore it; ignore the noises I heard, ignore the furniture that moved when nobody was home, ignore my fear for it and ignore the fact that I knew whatever it was shouldn’t be here.1

The moon was covered by dark thunderclouds and lightening streaked across the sky. I shivered.  I had never been scared of storms before but now they had a new meaning and I had learned to look upon them as a warning. As though in sequence, the electricity flashed out and the spare room door flew open followed by the window. I shivered. I knew now that I would wait. Wait for the howls and cries and for the low mutter of voices, the movement of furniture and the transparent figures that floated absentmindedly, going no where in particular. But this time it was different.2

This time they didn’t stay away, as if they had learnt that I feared them and with their eyes wide, deathly and blood-shot, they all moved towards me in circles. About seven of them all with wide, cold smiles frozen upon their lips. 3

I felt my legs become immobile. My heart pounding and my eyes hurt from blinking. I could hear there sound of children laughing and giggling evilly although I knew that the room was silent. My head was throbbing with terror and confusion. Suddenly I saw one of them soaring towards me. It would pass straight through me. I shut my eyes dreading what would happen next. Within a second it passed my insides and I felt an icy sensation, a lonely feeling that made me forget all about hope. My eyelids wouldn’t open and I felt like I was being sucked down, I breathed desperately but all I could taste was water mixed with blood. I began to panic and my body went numb. 4

I tumbled down into the water into I smacked my dead on a metal surface, my eyes snapped open and searched for the surface. I saw that the water around me was tinged lilac but found nothing. My senses slowly returned; the water was warm and filled me with a sleepy sensation, the taste of blood was still bitter and metallic in my mouth and a high-pitched ghostly singing could be heard.5

I soon became aware of the singer; she was blurred into the ripples of the water. Her wavy hair fell to her waist, its dark brown colour contrasting with her pure white dress. She had pain-glazed black eyes that watched me with mild interest as she gently swung on a tree swing hanging from an old oak tree. The tree’s branches were bare but autumn leaves had settled by its roots, occasionally being swept up by the current.6

I opened my mouth to ask the questions of burning curiosity forming in my head. All to quickly I became aware of the water gushing into my windpipe, I couldn’t breathe. I closed my eyes and gave into the relaxing warm water. Everything went dark.7

When I woke later I was shivering all over and lying in a pool of cold water. My breathing had calmed but dried blood had formed on my lips. I parted them in slow confusion causing the blood to crumble and fall to the ground in flakes. I sat up, listening to the silence and stared out of the window watching the last of the storm clouds glide over the moon.  8