First draft - NaNoWriMo

 Preface

Dreams are funny things. Before the Awakening mine had never been that vivid. I would wake up the next morning and immediately forget whatever obscure events I had experienced the night before. It would only be later on in the day when something would trigger my memory and I would have a vague recollection of some odd, blurry adventure that I had embarked on in my sleep.

But when you begin to have the same dream nearly every night for two years they start to become more vivid, more memorable; almost part of your existence.

This has been the case for me ever since the Awakening. Every night I dream the same dream. The Predators enter my dreams, their familiar groans filling my thoughts, their stench consuming my senses. It’s as if they are trying to eat away at my sanity as well as my flesh.

In my dream, I am always sat on the swing in our old back garden, watching the clouds peacefully float by, listening to the birds or taking part in some other sort of dream-like activity. Then, I am alerted by distant moans and I look up to see a collection of Predators stumbling towards me from the other side of my garden, their arms outstretched in desperation in longing for their human prey. Panic begins to bubble up inside me but, as is traditional in dreams, I am stationary, the bench restricting any chance of my escape as I sit there struggling to move in my frozen state.

Suddenly, in the corner of my eye, I see another figure by the house. Looking between the moving Predators I try to see who it is through the mass of moving corpses. Then, a feeling of dread floods through my body as I realise.

Katie.

I scream at her to run but no sound emerges from my mouth whether it’s because I am in a dream or because my voice is being drowned out by the sickening dim of the hungry Predators who continue to stumble towards me.

Katie smiles; her face full of joy and innocence while I know mine shows an expression of panic and despair. She looks angelic in her favourite white dress that Dad bought her for her last birthday and her shoes are sparkling clean.

Her innocence breaks my heart but her face is the last thing that I see before I am engulfed by the mass of ravenous Predators that have reached me.

 ‘Ellie! Ellie! Wake up, Ellie; it’s only one of your dreams again. Wake up!’

I sit bolt upright. My throat feels raw as if I have been screaming continuously, my limbs ache a little from possible thrashing and I can feel hot beads of sweat lingering on my face. Looking around, I see the faint outline of Katie’s figure scurrying around my bead recovering the strewn that have been strewn around me.

‘You were yelling. Was it the Predators again?’ she asks me. I nod apprehensively; I hate the idea of my eleven-year-old sister, who I am supposed to be responsible for, having to see me in this distressed state.

After a couple of minutes I compose myself and journey to the bathroom to splash some cold water on my face.

Katie follows me. ‘Are you okay?’ she asks an uneasy tone to her voice. I cup a hand to her worried face.

 ‘I’m fine,’ I reply, with as much positivity as I can muster. ‘It’s okay, you can go back to sleep now, I’m alright.’

But I’m really not.