It was a dark cold evening. There was something sinister in the air-- it was uncomfortably warm. I saw a girl walking barefooted. She had bruises and scratches. Her long black hair was swinging as she moved. She was wearing a white dress, blood stains glistened like fire raging in snow. She was panting, breathlessly and helplessly running away from something. Ignoring the darkness embracing her, she kept walking as fast as she possibly could with no direction in mind. She couldn’t think. She couldn’t speak. She couldn’t cry. All she knew was run away. She must not stay.
She looks to be around 5 or 7 years old, I thought.
She cocked her head to her left and saw a metal rail.
Who is this girl? What is she doing in this place at this time? Why is she covered in blood?
She climbed the rail to her feet, grabbing the metal just beside her and looked down to somewhat like a thousand-of-feet. She was standing on the safety rail of a bridge, and seemed like she was trying to leap. She gritted her teeth and the blood from somewhere on her head dripped. As she closed her eyes, the gory scenes of incineration caught up to me. The eerily poignant prospect was gruesome and I wondered why I see all of these. So I closed my eyes asking myself if I’m dreaming again.
“Father…” she muttered.
My skin began to crawl and blinked my eyes open in an instant. To my horror, my sight laid into nothingness. I struggled to find my balance as the coward in me surfaced when I realized it was me who was standing from where the girl was. I tried to back down, squalling, sweeping my arms for anything to grab on but then I slipped throwing myself into the depths of hell.