It was red. Everything was red. The floor, the sky, the people. Everything was a rich crimson. Cecily ran. She ran from red. She didn't belong here. She knew it. Her clothes were in tatters, her boots gone missing. But still she carried on. They gained on her. Skeletons in army uniform, reached out to her with bony, bloody fingers. More red. She felt something cold and bony scratch her neck. "NO!" She cried out, but nobody heard her. She was on her own, trapped in her realm. No one could help her here.
She spun around, facing the oncoming army. I can do this. It's just a dream. She reminded herself. She stopped and concentrated, and the skeletons melted into the ground. She breathed a sigh of relief. Feeling dizzy, she dropped to her knees and took deep breaths. The ground began to shake. Red mist rose from the dirt. She screamed. Just a dream Just a dream Just a dream! She recited repeatedly, telling herself not to give in.
The mist rose and curled around her neck, choking her. It became rock hard in an instant. She coughed and spluttered. She tried to tear it away. Her fingernails started bleeding. So much red. She couldn't breathe. "Not…. Real…" She managed to choke out. Then everything started to sway and fade. It's ending! She thought, delighted the ordeal was over. Her eyelids closed, and everything went black.
"CECILY!" Someone shouted as her eyes opened.
"What is it, Marissa?" Cecily sat up slowly.
"What do you mean, what is it?" Marissa yelled, "You've been screaming your head off the whole night! Do you know how many excuses I had to make up so Miss Cameron wouldn't beat you!?"
"I'm sorry, I just…"
"No! I'm sorry doesn't cut it! This has to stop, Cecily. You need serious help."
"But I'm telling you I have it under-"
"You have it under control? That's bullshit. You must've woke the entire orphanage by now!" Marissa shouted as she left the room, leaving Cecily to her thoughts.
She buried her head in her hands.
Phillip walked slowly along the pavement. He felt sluggish and sweaty as the warmth of the bright red sun scorched his skin. He looked at his surroundings. Suburban. Red. Everything was red. That was never a good thing. He went onto a house's front porch, and saw the door was open. He went inside. There were pictures along the red walls and on the mantle place, all of people he once knew. Everyone who died from the war. He forced himself to look away.
He reached the kitchen, only to see his Dad at the sink. His real father. The one he never knew. "Dad?" He asked, reaching out. His Dad turned around. Phillip swallowed in anticipation. But it wasn't his Dad. His face morphed into Gary Stevens, his abusive foster Father. He wore a permanent scowl. Phillip stumbled back.
"You ungrateful child! I never wanted you!" Gary shouted, advancing on Phillip.
"Not real. Not real. Not real. He can't hurt me." Phillip assured himself, trying not to burst.
"Oh, I'll hurt you, kid." Gary's eyes burned red.
Phillip stared in horror. Not real Not real Not real NOT REAL.
"Just a dream." He mumbled to himself. "Don't believe. Just a bad dream."
Gary's arm shot up and grabbed Phillip by the throat. "You've been nothing but a burden."
Phillip thrashed and choked. "No….Not Real…."
Then he stopped squirming and concentrated. Concentrated Hard. Gary turned to red mist that fell to the red carpet. Phillip caught his breath. His eyes became heavy. He saw black.
He woke up. The door was rattling. Gary was screaming.
"OPEN UP DAMN CHILD!" Phillip shot up immediately at the harshness in his foster Father's voice.
"GET OUT HERE, BLOODY HELL!" Phillip hurried around the room, pulling on his clothes and taking his backpack. He climbed out the window. Gary's beating can wait.
Author's Note: Hey everyone! I hope you enjoyed this Chapter as much as I did. It wasn't long, I know, none of the chapters will be. It's a short story, not an insanely long one. So should I continue? Or abandon this? Tell me what you think in the review box, I'll be very glad to hear your suggestions.