Closer. Just a little bit farther: closer. Maybe, finally, she can actually open the door.
She's in a hallway. It's dark. She's tensed, running, short of breath, short of air, but not short on adrenaline. A stitch, like a painful throbbing stab wound, is on her left side, just under her rib cage. She does nothing to try to comfort that pain.
Closer. Almost there. Closer…
She's in a hallway, but she can't see the walls. Only endless darkness, a dark tile pathway before her and the door that promises light.
Closer now. She reaches out her hand, which she can now see before her, but barely, like a ghost that she doesn't really believe is there to help her. She can see the light, white light, on the crevices of the door.
The darkness is not completely dark, except for the pathway leading to the door, darkness exists. However, the whites of teeth and the glowering eyes of red, amber and blue do not completely ease her mind on such matters. She is only safe for now. Safe for now. There is hard laboring breathing and low, deep throated growling on all sides of her. Some of it is here, some isn't. She can't tell which though, so she keeps on running…running to get to the door, for her life. She's only safe if she keeps up her quick pace to the door.
She can sense them waiting for her, can sense that are waiting for her to pose some kind of opening for them.
So they can attack.
She can't feel her legs now, but she knows they're moving.
The door was there; she could see it properly. This was the end of an old journey.
She hadn't told anybody about the dream of the door, the darkness, or the monsters hiding in the darkness, waiting for her to give an opening so they tear her apart.
She doesn't think she ever will.
"They're only dreams, honey. Nothing will really get you, you know."
She didn't believe these words, though her mother meant them. Honestly meant them. Not words of mockery at all, but words of comfort.
However she did believe—no knew—that the monsters in the dark would eat her alive whenever they would get the chance to. If she strayed from her destination.
"Kandice, you're fifteen years old! How could you be so childish? Grow up a little!"
Her father was not the best of people to talk to about nightmares. He believed that that was the mother's job. The father's job was taking care of the family on business matters. It didn't matter to her. She had her mother, that better for her anyway.
Finally Kandice stopped and smiled.
The door! The door! Now it will be opened and she could look upon the other side. Could at last look into the light.
Her hand, still held outwards, touched the copper-handled door and turned.
(AN: This is the short story version of a story that i'm in the middle of. Things will change...like the name of the protagonist in the story. Won't change the dream part of the story, but i will change the background to a point where it will agree the bigger picture... Tell me what you think.
Remember R&R and i'll return the favor!)