The living paradox

A surreal creepy adventure

I wake up gasping for air to somebody pouring ice-cold water on my eroded face.

The smell of stale urine hits me as soon as my senses trigger. I frantically grope around for some kind of sign, an indication, when my hands hit something that feels like King Kong’s foot. I squint at the man who wished me morning. A dark skinned bald man with herculean lips and a little too much fat around the neck. He towers six and a half feet tall above the ground and could probably gulp the whole of me down his blobby throat.

“Get your a*s up!” he barks.

I look around. It looks like some kind of a bathroom. A filthy one. I am on the floor, half-seated against a cubical wall.

“I am sorry, wha-“

He doesn’t let me complete. He jerks me up by the barely-together shirt I have on and carelessly tosses me out of the corner that I had been dreaming in. I fall hard on my shoulder but don’t really feel any pain. My head is dizzy and my body is numb. I spot a doorway. My years of experience in watching action-movies prompts me to get away from the monster because a kick, that packs the power of a wrecking ball, is already airborne on its way to my abdomen. I quickly roll onto my stomach and start to frantically crawl towards the exit.

Once outside, I grab a sink and manage to get on my feet. I notice that I am barefoot.

“Move, b***h!” he nudges me down the dingy corridor.

I stagger forward and see men and women, with faces ugly and disgusting, snarling toward me, like I was a new addition to their breakfast menu. I see them doing drugs, speaking in the most inhuman languages, and performing the most surreal sex acts. Their clothes are tattered and bodies soot-covered. The walls of the pathway have the paint peeling off of them and are scrawled upon by what looks like fingernails.

Then realization dawns upon me. I wouldn’t find a trace of kindness here.

I wouldn’t experience love for a long time.

I wouldn’t, for I am in a nightmare.

This has to be another one of my nightmares. I would wake up to relief after this is over, like always. I would wake up to continue my normal life. No big deal.

I get pushed again. My head snaps back due to inertia. This time, it hurts. I am beginning to feel the bruises on my body. I try to lift my arm but it refuses to respond. Something prods me in the back again, making me walk. I move like a zombie. I notice bright light at the end of the corridor. I also hear deep low-pitched humming, like the entire arena is preparing to collapse. I notice that the construction looks ancient, and has strange writings on it. A few more meters and I see the courtyard I was being dragged to, also realizing that the humming wasn’t coming from the building, but from the crowd gathered outside it. I keep limping forward. Every step drains energy from my body. With each step, the holler outside grows louder. I finally reach the opening, and sunlight blinds me.

There are people here; around a thousand hungry pairs of eyes that all on me. They are nothing but three stone steps down from where I stand. They roar louder as I am prompted to step toward them. Strangely, they part to make way for me, and they do it almost by instinct, like they have done this a million times before. I can barely keep my balance now. My eyes don’t focus without putting conscious effort. My head is throbbing.

This will all be over soon, I have been in worse dreams! �" I reassure myself.

I step on something sharp and it penetrates deep into the sole of my foot. Pain darts through my leg and I trip, only to make things worse. The entire clearing is lined with broken glass. I fall on all fours and blood gushes from my palms and knees. I feel drowsy like I am about to pass out.

Just get it over with quick, don’t make it harder �" I think to myself.

I know what’s coming. I go through this every night, only in a different form.

I have to die.

I have to die, to wake up.

I glance toward my destination and see a raised platform. It had to be in the middle of the audience. I get my feet beneath me and try walking again. Each step is an achievement at this stage. Each step draws life out of me. I hear a crunch of glass every time my feet make contact with the ground. I see what’s on the platform now. I see how it is going to be this time, and I am terrified. The sight almost makes me pray for mercy.

On the dais is a Guillotine.

I never asked for such a creative mind. Even in a dream, a Guillotine isn’t quite comforting. I try to make a dart back. Naturally the giant grabs and pulls me after him. I try to free myself, to no avail. I am too weak to retaliate now. I stop resisting and let myself get dragged. I can see a blood trail in my wake. I sense the enthusiasm in the crowd go up by notches.

We reach the podium and I get 2-pointered onto it. The impact makes my eyes well up. It’s showtime.

My hair makes for a perfect spot to steer me. His grip is too strong and my weight too much to be borne by the roots of my hair alone. Some of it rips right off the scalp. I am made to kneel down and my head is hauled into the semi-headlock. The other half drops from above, securing me to the wooden frame.

There is no escaping now.

I am sweating but it would be over soon. Fear overwhelms me. I know it will be over soon. As soon as the blade severs my neck, I would wake up. Wake up to live. My hands get fastened behind me. My entire body is trembling. I hear the executioner make a cheerful call. The crowd applauds. I see the shadow in front of me reach for a suspended rope. I see it tug the rope and I squeeze my eyes shut. I hear the blade whoop down and slash through flesh.

 

…

 

I jolted up from my sleep to find the seatbelt tugging around my middle.

“Hey, are you alright?”

She was right there, beside me, in the aisle seat. I looked at my wife’s beautiful face with the concerned expression it wore.

“Calm down, it’s over,” she reassured me in sign language.

I nodded and let out a sigh, and tried to settle back in my seat ignoring the antagonistic looks from the other passengers.

I thought about the ordeal, about the torturous hangman and the angry mob. I contemplated about my curse and about the excruciating suffering, and pitied myself. I felt a sudden discomfort in one of my ears. The pain exploded through my entire head within nanoseconds making my eyes water. I looked around to find everybody either rubbing their ears or just pressing down on their temples. It turned into total chaos the next second with the oxygen masks suddenly dropping down from above us and terrified people shrieking in horror, and the speakers blaring, “EVERYBODY IS REQUESTED TO CALM DOWN, IT IS JUST A LOSS OF CABIN PRESSURE.”

I put my hand on the armrest and felt the plane’s regular mechanical vibration falter along with the sound of the engines. The aircraft started decelerating and I felt my weight tipping forward. The last thing I remember is that we were in a nosedive into the pacific. And then I passed out.

 

…

 

I wake up coughing water out my mouth, to find myself lying on a fragment of the sunken plane. It seems to have some kind of an air pocket underneath it, which has kept it above the surface until now, but will eventually sink, as the waves replace the air with water.

What’s funny is that it is being circled by half a dozen dorsal fins.

Well, I have to admit, sharks always fascinated me.

Reviews

[Vic]

The transition from the bathroom to the arena was a little hard to follow. There is a lot going on here. I like how you start with the dream, and then another disaster happens right after the main character wakes up. It makes me wonder if the plane crash and sharks are another dream.