My dreams have been becoming... interesting lately. Not at all weird, as again, saying dreams are weird is redundant. Interesting in a way that it has an actual plot or at least a semblance thereof. Ordinary dreams are usually just fragmentary and fleeting, while interesting dreams have stories and are more vivid, such as the one I had last night.
In a nutshell, the setting was all very similar to a cross between Big Brother and Battle Royale -- which was odd in itself since I don't watch Big Brother at all, although I know the general premise of the show.
Anyway, I was with ten others in a very large, very Victorian-type house (which, for the purposes of this narration, will be referred to from here on as The House). One of them I knew -- a classmate from when I was still studying in Don Bosco. One looks like someone from the Middle East, one oddly resembles Paris Hilton (but I'm sure was Filipina), and the others... I don't exactly remember but are of various age range and nationality.
I felt a shift and it seemed like we were inside The House for several days already. Some were exploring the grounds, and the others were talking or doing something else. Overall however, The House was very quiet. The silence was thick and as oppressive as the forest surrounding it. It was very creepy.
Another shift and I saw the Middle Eastern guy. He was inside a poorly lit room, doubled over in pain, and coughing terribly. A few more minutes of misery and blood was spewing out from his mouth. His eyes widened as a last futile act of plea for release, and seconds after, he was gone. I almost felt his soul being wrenched out of him, like a miasma of acid green poison. I knew someone poisoned him.
Shift, and I was with my other companions. We were talking about the Middle Eastern guy and how all of us should be careful. One of the guys, a tall Caucasian man, stood up and said he was going to scout the place. The girl who looked like Paris Hilton went with him and the rest of us stayed put. My (un)consciousness went with them. I somehow knew they both liked each other, so it was not surprising that the girl went with the guy. Also, I knew they were not coming back.
A shift brought me to a room where the tall Caucasian guy was. Somehow, Paris-girl wasn't with him. He was in a similar room where the Middle Eastern guy was before, and it seemed like he was aware of a strange presence inside the room. I felt it too. He was in combat stance, ready to fight, and absolutely no trace of fear marking his hard face. At the same time, I felt the strange presence circling him, like a wild cat surveying its prey, silent and watchful. Without warning, everything went dark. The last I saw was a streak of red lining one of the walls, and it was over.
Shift. Paris-girl was in another room. She was shouting the tall Caucasian's name. I feel another presence but this time, it wasn't singular. It was a multitude of intangible threats, slowly advancing towards the girl. I wanted to warn the girl, make her aware of the danger even if there was no hope of escape. The girl kept on screaming the guy's name. She only felt the presence at the final moment when, with a shocked look on her face, she suppressed a gasp. A heartbeat, and it was done.
Shift. It was a few days after the deaths of our companions and we were still talking nonstop about it, grimly concluding that we were here to be murdered. Though most probably, as with similar (but less dire) situations, there might be a sinister purpose from the people who run The House to leave just one of us alive.
However, for a reason we can't explain, we felt that the killings that have happened seemed highly... irregular. Like it wasn't actually caused by the owner of The House. Like it was done by some other entity. Which makes the situation complicated not only for us guests, but also for the owner of The House. Someone else was with us in The House, and wants us all dead. All of us decided to stick together from then on, and to trust only each other.
Once again, I felt a shift. No murders happened for almost a week, but we were still as guarded as ever. The eight of us who were left settled down for another quiet dinner, in our minds counting down how many more dinners each of us still had left to enjoy. I was seated at one end of the table and to my right was my highschool classmate. He was particularly very attentive, something I didn't notice at all until that night.
Now that I was thinking about it, he has indeed been giving me attention more than what he normally used to -- always asking how I was doing, keeping me company wherever I went, being generally protective, and even smiling carelessly at the most unexpected of times. While processing thoughts of a dawning realization, I wasn't even aware of the oblivious expression I had on because I was caught off-guard when I noticed him looking amusedly back at me. Apparently he was done putting food on my plate and was now filling my glass with wine. "What?" he asked, smiling.
I was already saying one half of "I'm fine" in response when I noticed a red glow surrounding him. Suddenly his smile was gone, to be replaced by a shocked expression marring his face. And it seemed like the flow of time slowed down to accommodate all the thoughts it had to cram inside my head, and everything went quiet...
It wasn't until I heard the crash of the wine bottle on the floor when I snapped back to my senses and saw that only his clothes were left beside me. The rest of him dissolved into ashes. The screams of my companions didn't even register until someone took my arm and pulled me up off from my seat and told me to run. I couldn't at first, but upon standing, I was being pushed by two of my other friends forward so I did. They were hysterical, and the panic in the air compelled me to follow them.
While we were running, I remember I kept on repeating, "What happened, what happened, what happened..." And they told me, quite breathlessly, that four of our companions just suddenly dissolved into ashes. That there were only four of us left, and that they were intent on getting out of The House by whatever means possible.
We came to a glass wall -- which they promptly landed a blow on, but was only successful in hurting themselves. Driven by adrenalin, they got up and started punching and kicking the glass wall again.
I was still out of sorts, still thinking about my highschool classmate, still processing every bit of data crammed in my head. I could feel the panic which was apparently driving my friends into a frenzy building up inside me as well, still quite muted by my current thoughts.
I punched the glass wall. "We're getting out of here," I whispered. And I saw a crack on the wall where my punch has landed.
A shift. And then I woke up.
