Chapter I
When Black closed her novel and looked at the alarm clock that looked like a Mickey Mouse, it showed that it was two o’ clock. She put the book on the table beside the clock, along with the zero powered glass, which helped her eye stains. She stretched her sleepy and bulky form on the single bunk of a bed, and then rubbed her eyes, as if it would remove the ache and strain. Then she slowly settled on her bed, and said a quick prayer to keep off the bad dreams and then closed her eyes. She had been so tired that she was hoping that no dream would evade her sleep, but it did none the less.
It looked as if Black was on a road, and she had been walking for a long time. The place was deserted, and the heat seemed scorching, and there was no one, not even a strayed dog at sight. She had a bag, a big one on her back, and she looked so very exhausted. Her feet seemed to ache a lot, and she felt that she would collapse. She saw a big milestone like thing, where there was something written, but it seemed that she could not decipher it. It was not that high, so she sat on it, and opened her sneakers to check something. There were blisters, the size of cherries, and it looked so bad that it had soaked her socks with crimson blood.
She felt the pain by looking at them, but did not know what to do. She was in the middle of nowhere, and the sun was over her head, and something, like an invisible pull, the power and strength of it had been so immensely strong that it did not let her go. She somehow, as if a magic of the dream gave her strength, she wore her socks and sneakers, without flinching, and then got off again.
When Black looked in front of her, at the end of the road, or lane, whatever she thought to say at times, it looked like something of an end, and it was pulling Rachael with tremendous force that could not be fathomed.
Then suddenly, the scene changed, and it looked as if it had been a smoke of a scene, like those of Alice in Wonderland, then it was evening, and she was on the top of a skyscraper of a building, but looked as a neglected one, that Black saw in Ghost Adventures. There was no escape path, and no stairs to climb down the building. The only way was to jump off the ceiling, and it was crazy.
Black had height phobia, so much that she started shaking even by seeing from the second floor of anywhere. But she just got her wits together, and then went to see what was down the place. She started inching towards the railings, and as soon as she got close to the railing, she heard something at her back. She turned instantly, and she did not know how, but the railings and the floor collapsed, and she fell along with the concrete.
She tried to scream, but no sounds came out. She perhaps saw a dark silhouette figure of someone standing there, but wasn’t sure, and tried to grab unnecessarily, as if she wanted to catch the air to save herself, but to no avail.
She felt that she had been falling and falling, but the most astounding thing was, she felt that she could not come out of the dream. Just when she felt that she was about to touch the ground and scatter to pieces, she somehow heard a loud shrilling noise from somewhere.
Black suddenly opened her eyes, and found that her hands were crisscrossed in front of her, as if protecting herself from the impact of falling, no matter how futile an attempt that would be to save herself from something so fictitious. Her clothes, bed sheets, and her pillow were drenched in sweat, and her cheeks were wet, from both tears and perspiration. Then she turned the shrilling alarm off with a little force than necessary.
She pinched her matted curls off her forehead, where it was plastered with sweat. Then she kept herself on the bed a few more minutes to settle herself and get over the shock of the dream. Then Black glanced at the clock that said 6:06 a.m.
Perhaps it was now time to get off from bed, Black thought with some grumpiness and slowly got off from her bed.
