Nightshade: The Death Stone

I run until I can’t breathe. My lungs, my legs, my stomach, my sides burn… Everywhere, I’m hurting. But I mustn’t stop! I turn the corner and enter one of the shops; it’s filled with household electrical appliances and furniture. I keep on running.

My heart is crying out to take a break—it’s contracting hard repeatedly with increasing pressure. I have never been a good runner. At least I can blame it on my heart issues. My breathing is wheezy and big beads of sweat coat my brows. But still I go on. I just hope my heart will go on like Celine Dion’s…

On an impulse, I look over my shoulder. They’re so close behind me, those black-hooded people! Or whatever they are. I push through the crowd, and I barely hear the protests and insults directed at me. Everybody seems to think I’m crazy, sprinting by like that for no reason. And I admit it’s quite scary to know I’m the only one aware of them. I might think I’m nuts if I hadn’t seen so many extraordinary stuff already.

The air shimmers and every piece of furniture is swaying, taking my thoughts back to what truly matters at the moment. On top of the shimmering, to the left of the closest washing machine, I can perceive an intense reddish light and faint stone walls, with chains drilled into them. It’s like the two sights are mixing to make only one. The second place is pale and looks unwelcoming, but it might be my only chance for now. So, with this in mind, I clench my teeth and run even faster. I concentrate on the second dimension, which appears clearer and surrounded by an intense golden light, and transfer my body into it as I reach the dark blue chairs over which shackles are levitating.

I take a deep breath and exhale loudly; it’s always the same when I transfer. I just hope my pursuers lost track of me now. Exhausted, I take a look around, shivering. I’m standing on a cold stone. Everything around me is made of rough blocks of stone and releases this reddish light. The smell of the place is unpleasant and dry, like on those hot summer days where you can barely breathe. There’s a huge wooden door to my right, but it doesn’t look like the right way to me. A small boy is shackled to the wall, feet away from me. I gulp and turn around only to face another wall. I open wide eyes and step back until I can see a blond teenager offering me his hand from above.

“Come on! You can’t stay there or you’ll be killed!” he exclaims, panicked.

I hear him quite well. Rapidly I jump to catch his hand and he hoists me up. Sadly, I notice he’s shackled as well.

What is wrong with this place?

“Thanks,” I say, though I’m not sure he can understand me. The guy cocks his dirty head to the side, eying me with a frown.

I stand on my feet and walk to the edge; yes, there’s an edge! I look down but all I can see is emptiness and darkness. Not quite friendly, that is. My breathing is fast and heavy. I don’t feel comfortable in this place, nor in the other. What should I do?

“Leave. I don’t know how you came here, all magically, but leave!” the blonde urges me.

My hair whips my face as I turn around. I swallow hard and stare at him as though I haven’t seen anyone in a long time. I’m standing still, however, my heart is racing in my chest. I can feel them approaching. Their energies…

I try to regain my composure and nod at him. I don’t want to end up like them. I might come back to help them, but right now I have to save my own skin. Sometimes there’s just nothing I can do for other people. I wave him good-bye, then I close my eyes. I mentally prepare myself for what is to come.

This is horrible.

I open my eyes, then focus on the reddish energy this place emits and I run toward the edge. Without thinking twice, I jump into the void and try to reach the swaying lamp hanging over the dishwasher, which is floating into the air.

My feet slam onto the ground and I groan with pain. At least it wasn’t such a long fall.

I’m back onto the white-tiled floor of the shop, a few feet ahead of the black-hooded things. Afraid, I stiffen and start to run again at top velocity, but it’s clear my body will give out soon. My legs are shaking so bad, it’s critical—the strength has drained from them, leaving only a feeble make-belief. They’re as treacherous as a Batman villain! If only there was a way to shake those cloaked guys off!

There’s no reddish light anymore, I realize. Shit. I might never find that world again… I keep on running. I glance over at my stalkers and—they’re so close!

My heart constricts and I gasp, putting a hand over it. Stress has never been healthy for me, but now this is insane! Panting so hard I can hear it more loudly than all the shocked customers I pass by. The outlines of the people all blur; the colours of the blurred lines elongate into bright spikes that make me dizzy. A knot pulls at my gut and I blink with discomfort. Then, the knot seems to pull me downward and the unpleasant sensation of falling assaults me. I stomp my feet harder as I run to assert my grip and balance. As I focus my gaze ahead, people’s movements grow slower while I seem to run faster. Or is it because all the others are slowing down?

Argh, not now, not again!

Just like before. Time has slowed. I glance back again and, indeed, my relentless pursuers are now farther behind me and moving at a slug’s pace. At least it’s benefiting me, though it’s still as puzzling as the previous times.

Unfortunately, it doesn’t last more than a few seconds. Time starts flowing naturally in quite an abrupt manner-it’s as though I received a punch in the belly and I have to take a deep inhale through the mouth. I stumble forward and trip, but keep on going, forcing my thoughts to clear and my focus to return. But my legs feel like Jell-O; they’re soft and numb, and my feet seem to trip continuously over each other. My pace slows and I know I shouldn’t stop but hell, my heart, it’s suffering. Sweat dribbles over my left eye and plasters my hair to my face. I exhale louder and louder. I won’t stop. I have to keep going. Panicked through mushy thoughts, I will myself to check if they’re still far: nope! The black-hooded people have gained on me. They’re only a few feet away, as though time had done nothing at all.

How come they’re so fast? It’s not fair!

Or, more probably, my decrease in pace helped them reach me…

I sense a bad impulse and then it hits me. I fall to the ground. I try to walk on my four legs as best as I possibly can, but one of the hooded men (or women, for all I know!) kicks me in the side. I moan and fall onto my back.

Up close, their robes are magnificent what with their velvety texture and gold rim, but no less ominous. I’m shuddering-both from the fear I hate to admit and my heart’s exhaustion. Physical prowess has never been my forte despite my vain attempts. The bastard who harmed me leans forward in a brusque manner as though he were a Dementor ready to kiss me good-bye forever. The golden eye made of hard and heavy lines straight in the middle of their hood captures my attention. It’s as though they meant for me to see it. However, I couldn’t care less what it means at this instant! All I know is they’re bad, I’m good, and this is way too twisted for my liking. As I tear my gaze away from the Third Eye (it has to be that, right?), the oppressing reality hits me square in the face: they’ve surrounded me.

It’s over. I’m done for. Anyway, even if I tried, I couldn’t even run a meter now. All this running weakened me. In an instinctual move, I inhale a sudden and deep breath; a delicate waft of vanilla and roses caress my nose. An image of my somewhat calm routine pierces my head (I think my unconscious is trying to soothe me): me, sitting on our worn out couch, eating chips and laughing at the bad jokes from the even worst show. Home… How I’m aching for home, in whichever world though I’d prefer my actual mom. My breathing is loud and heavy like a boulder falling from a building into a river and my scraped hands hurt from sliding myself on the floor, away from my pursuers. I hear the shuffling of feet and clothes echo around me in a hollow tone like in a solemn cathedral, but I can’t even will my head to turn so as to take in who’s scurrying near me.

A black smoke circle appears a few feet from me and a terribly slender woman emerges from it in a black gothic dress. She pushes one of the men out of the way and leans over me. She looks like a cadaver! Her skin is so white it’s grey, like she’s sick, and her mouth is thin, stretched and covered in black lipstick. Her face and neck are way too thin for her sake. All I can do is clutch my side and stare, frightened, at her. I know I am grimacing, but what else could I do in front of such a disgusting person? My eyes are nearly gouging out as I try my best to distance myself from her, pressing myself against the floor. What’s even more surreal is this glowing green light tracing her form. I have such a light too, but mine is dirt red! Why does she? I thought me, my mom and uncle were the only ones with that glow. Did I also imagine my father’s so many years ago? I barely see the people of the shops approaching me, worried.

“Take her,” the woman says, her voice a violin string badly tuned. It’s like broken nails that catch into the cracks of an old chalkboard.

Everything around me starts whirling, a myriad of black and white dots speckling my vision. Oh no. My eyes are closing on their own intent and my heart is hiccuping in a desperate attempt to settle into a normal rhythm, finally released of the stress I forced it into. I strained it too far, but I had to try. I had to run. I sigh, and all I know is that the woman is walking away and her henchmen are leaning over me, ready to take me away. Just as they grab my wrists and feet, I faint.