Disorientated. 2047

It's badly written but my first attempt at describing a dream I had a few days ago. Some bits might be confusing and broken because of this. Any feed back is hugely appreciated.

Scaling the sparse woodland, mind wrenching up the image of what it might look like overhead. 

I arrive, cancelling my original plan to instead babysit for family further out. It's a huge, modernized building.

I let myself in. Feeling an odd combination of confident and out of place. As I empty my bowels I realise the toilet which I'm sat on is an integrated contraption that means it also conjoined with the bath. Strange. I spend some time thinking blankly whilst washing my bands in the basin. Leaving the bathroom I run into a older woman, hair scraped sharply into a bun. She utters something I don't pay attention to and leaves unaffected by our encounter.

The boy is around 5 years old, pale and with light, fair gossamer threads sweeping his scalp. Nothing strikes me as wrong but he possesses a hesitant, uncomfortable nature. Pulling him into bed and lying beside him his sleep is frequently interrupted, causing his pale, silky face to scrunch up before flailing an arm into another position. It catches me unaware, though this happens five or six times. His contorted expression is relaxed and almost completely dissolved by the time we wake up and his father is home. 

I can never recall what the father looked like, not even the colour of his hair. Rather he is remembered as a tall blank figure throughout the ordeal, compromising only a stagnant, wretched energy. From the precision and levelness of the house and his dark grey suit I know he is a business man. He takes the young boy angrily into a room and I wander around the house. No words have been exchanged.

Some days pass baby sitting the child and more hasty, silent encounters with his father ensue. Whilst bathing him one day I noticed a dark brown stain in his shorts. The child didn't speak but his eyes often drew me in with their abyss-like dilated form. I began to explore the house more when nobody was in and I noticed something in me change. I became paranoid, hasty. Walking between in the hallway trying to creep in between sharp contrasted shadows and light culminating the carpet my body became weaker with no reasoning.

It is only when I looked around properly I noticed items being left out of place. Grotesquely disturbing magazines amassing in piles quietly and the father began to paint this atmosphere with his hideous undertones.

I began to fear for the boy and held him while he slept. No longer working with intention to leave, his fathers honesty without words told me I was captive. A hapless empty guide for his suffering son.

My stay became nauseating fast. I was separated from the boy while he slept and disappeared from the fathers vision almost completely. When he had returned from work I would crawl ridden with paranoia through the corridors and rooms with a sharp pain in my stomach, fearing heavily for being seen. The unknowing was much much worse than if he saw me pass briefly and didn't react.

I saw him enter the boys room at night, still no sound but I knew what torment was occurring. When he left I would cradle his vacant flesh and bones as if they were my own. In the time that followed I changed again. I became braver and yet more terrified. It was a blur of hiding and being hunted yet I lived my strange co existence with these people through a flicker of depraved deepening skies.

I meet the boys mother one evening, she is formally dressed and I see her pale orb like pearl necklace before I can make any sense of her features. Her face is quickly forgotten. She hates me and treats her son with the same rough stroke as her father. The boy remains lost and innocent throughout.

I begin to wait in the boys room at night, trying to block out his fathers visits but I have gun in hand. I hide behind a block of draws and see only the light as he opens and closes the door. It reaches a point after a time before I have gathered any courage. The boy shoots me a pained expression as his fathers footsteps become apparent.

I know the boy doesn't want me to do what I am about to do. Within seconds of the door opening my eyes confront his. In a split second the bullet has slashed into his neck. He topples forward in complete shock. The boy scurrying back but his father regains with support of the bed frame. Completely dumbfounded I throw the gun to the young boy, he looks at me and then at his father. He draws and shoots a second time. There isn't much of his  head left and our ears are pulsating with the noise from the gun and blood hissing around our bodies. 

The boy looks in utter disdain, he knows what he has done. Within seconds the older woman appears as does his wife. They make no noise but I leave the boy and am ordered out the room with a shotgun to my back. We enter the huge vast planes of this field. Dismal lifeless rain wept from the sky like the hesitant squirms of a tadpole. I ran. I ran even when my own curdling blood splayed out in front of me and bullets tore me almost in half. I closed my eyes and I saw hundreds of ghostly children running with me.