𝐍𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐞𝐫

Things get a bit weird

 The sea became a starry night sky and I was falling, falling, falling, a scream building up in my throat-

 The boat hit the water below with a loud splash, and I lost my balance, my rear hitting the bottom with a hard thump. I raised my head shakily and peeked out over the side of the small vessel.

 An old dock greeted me, the tall lampposts that lined it cast everything in a yellow-orange glow, similar to the light on my boat. I looked around, spotting other boats just like my own, their lamps extinguished and bobbing at other docks.

 A heavy white fog clung to the water and the wooden planks in front of me, making the whole scene seem even less real. I stepped out onto the dock, hesitating only for a second before stepping into the thickening mist ahead.

 Imperceptible whispers and faint rustling followed me as I walked, the planks sounding hollowly under my feet.

 "You shouldn't be here," a voice rasped in my ear, chilling my blood and sending shivers crawling up my spine.

 But then, a warm calloused hand latched around mine and seemed to heat my soul. I gasped at the sudden contact and was plunged into a dark abyss.

_____________

 I stared at the slanted wooden planks that made up the ceiling of my room.

 That had been one of the most vivid dreams I'd ever had... That hand gripping my own felt so... Real.

 I could still feel the rough callouses, brushing my smooth palm, and still here that cold, blood curdling, hair raising voice. You shouldn't be here.

 Where was here, though? I sighed. It was just a dream. It didn't matter. It wasn't real.

 A glance out the window revealed a grey sky, streaked with pinks and oranges. Dawn.

 It felt like I'd barely slept- that at least, wasn't new.

 But the rustling and those indistinct whispers still lingered in my mind- calling me, begging me to come back.

 I don't know how, I thought, feeling strangely upset about that, and slowly, the whispers faded, taking the soft rustling with them.

 I shivered slightly, and pulled on an over-sized sweater left hanging on the bedpost. I crept past my mothers' room, down the stairs and into the baby-blue-tiled kitchen, checking the large clock hanging on the wall above the counter. It wasn't even six yet.

 I blew out a frustrated breath. So much for sleeping in today.

 I grabbed an apple from the nearly empty fridge and made my way back to my room. I closed the door very slowly, and winced at every tiny creak in the hinges. Then I snatched my backpack and my beanie from the floor, and settled in the hanging chair in the corner with a big smile on my face. I'd always wanted one of these.

 As the chair rocked slowly, I popped in my headphones, putting on an instrumental track. It was calm and nostalgic.

 I fiddled with the edge of the warm cotton of my beanie, which warmed my ears from the chill of the early morning, and pulled out my sketchbook, still unable to shake the echo of those voices, (and that one voice) and began to draw the dock from my dream.

 Birds began to chirp outside as the rest of the world slowly woke up and, deciding I was satisfied with the vague image I had drawn, I shut my sketchbook with a snap, pulling out my earbuds and swapping both items for the fat novel in my bag, unfolding the top corner of the page.

 Every other avid reader I'd ever met had been heavily traumatized at my practice of dog earing pages. I couldn't help it, though- I have a horrible habit of losing things, especially bookmarks.  

 Books had always been so much more interesting than the real world. So, when things got too boring, I used them to escape- and eventually found that they became my new reality.

 I leaned back into the chair, wrapping a soft, fluffy blanket around myself. The sun had fully risen, filling my room with its rays. Everything was so calm... I couldn't hear a single car or person.

 This had to be the most relaxed I'd ever felt.

 Maybe the city affected me more than I thought.

 I shrugged all my thoughts away, not having the energy to reflect right now. Right now all I wanted to do was read and read and read.

 And forget about that dream. Because, for some reason I felt that something had changed.

 That something was stirring inside of me.