Days of future and past: 1
Flashes of images.
Shouts of pain and terror.
Of destroyed buildings, overturned vehicles and debris scattered across the road.
A familiar face, twisted and turned into a grimace; a mask of pure terror and malice.
He woke up; sitting up straight on his bed. His white t-shirt soaking with sweat and his heart pounding hard against his chest. He sat staring at nothing, wondering what he had dreamed about. Yet, even as the seconds passed, he could not recollect anything.
He felt confused and afraid.
He remembered a time when he had a similar experience and it didn’t end up too well for him or for the world.
He continued, seated on the bed, trying hard to think, frozen in that position. Until the view before his eyes suddenly registered in his head and he broke out of his daze. He looked around the room he was in and suddenly felt a strange pang of familiarity. It was not that he had stayed there before; like yesterday or last week or a few years ago. But it was a familiarity that came from the furthest corners of his mind.
It felt strange.
It felt wrong.
He kept looking around, not believing his own eyes, and then he sprung out of his bed and ran out into the corridor.
Outside the room, he felt that same strange sense of familiarity. He knew every inch of the place: every ornament, every picture and every item neatly arranged. But he also knew that he should not be this familiar with the place; he felt a sense of dread fill him.
The fear with which he woke returned as he rushed towards the stairway and then down the stairs.
He knew where he was going but not why.
He moved through the house, giving nothing around him a look or even a glance.
Everything was neat and orderly. The bright rays that flowed in through the open windows gave the house a chirpy and sunny feel. But he didn’t care. His eyes were focused on the path ahead.
So far he had been alone. Not a sound or shadow was found to or show that anyone else was there. But now standing in the kitchen he had found an occupant. But the sight of the long blonde-haired woman in the flowery dress made him freeze.
Her back was turned to him when he first stepped into the kitchen, as she continued with her cooking. So he couldn’t see who she was, but he could feel the beat of his heart rising as he stood silently. Then she turned around and his jaw almost dropped. A single solitary word jumped out from his mouth before he even had the chance to stop it: