It is a formal, sedated place. No movement, no sound. Just tomb stones sticking out of the ground, waiting to be mourned over. Some say it is spooky, scary, maybe even disturbing. I think of it as a place of calm. A place to reflect on forthcoming, or past events. There is a bench, on the far side of the field, where I sit under a large birch tree. This is my place. My spot to contemplate over my life, and maybe even others. In all the time I've lived in Newhaven, I have never seen anyone else sit on that bench. The good thing is at night, it is dark, most of the village is lit by light coming out of peoples' houses, filtering onto the grey tarmac road. But not this place. This is well away from any, living, civilization. I decided just to take a nap before going home for a proper sleep. Which is why I came here, to return to my dream. . .
I was in a lit up jail. A sort of high security prison cell, with white wash walls. Everything was white. Everything blended in perfectly with its surroundings. Apart from one thing. The wolf, standing right in the center of the room, motionless as usual. It's eyes fixated on my body. I had begun to get used to his presence now. It was, more comforting than anything else, knowing that there was another living organism in the seemingly empty room.
Then, just like the flick of a switch, the room went completely dark. "Black as my heart." I said to myself. The only thing that was remotely visible, was the two floating eyes, belonging to the furry beast. I took a step closer to the wolf, but as I did I fell. You know that feeling you get when you think there is another step on the staircase, but there isn't and you get a sudden shock because you just fall to the floor. Well it was like that for me, except, there weren't any stairs. I got up again and then felt a trickle of liquid run down the right hand side of my head. At first I thought it might be a tear. but no, it was too sticky to be a tear. The light flashed back on again, and I saw the black blood seeping down my head and making a river along my arm so that a lake of blood started to form in my cupped hands. I raised one arm, allowing the blood to fall and stain the whitewashed floor. I felt along my forehead until I found the wound that was causing the bleeding, except this time it was a hole, not a gash. A round hole that was allowing blood to seep through, and wet my body.
I felt a cool breeze drift across my face. Along with it came the voice again. This time almost angry in her tone "You have a black heart" It said. Rebounding off the white clean walls. I fell to the ground clutching my head as all of a sudden the pain hit me. I attempted a scream but nothing came out. I lay on the white floor, clutching my head in agony. I look up carefully to see the wolf. The wolf had vanished, but the voice hadn't, it kept on hacking into my mind and accessing the most painful moments of my past. I tried to stand up, I don't know why, I suppose to try and get some control over my body, but everytime I moved even the slightest bit, the pain just intensified. Making the agonising pain even more harder to bare. I started shaking violently, when my body just stopped moving completely. I lay completely still, and my eyes automatically shut.
As I opened my glued eyes, and wiped the sleep away, I was sitting on the wooden bench in the graveyard. A raven crowed, swooped down, and landed on a gravestone directly ahead of me. The raven stared at me, with its yellow radiant eyes. I raised myself off the seat, and started softly treading my way towards the raven, as I got very close, I held out my hand. It flew off, faster than I had imagined, and vanished into the forest behind the graveyard. I averted my gaze down towards the gravestone the curious bird had been perched on. Carved into the grey slab of rock was the following words. 'David Walters, Died 12th August 1996'. . . In other words, My father, tomorrow.
