Written

I just finished the monthly challenge. It was written on the spot so don't judge too harshly please. When I was a child we had several deaths in my family. One about every 2 years from my birth to my preteen years. It was impossible.

I was in counseling form kindergarten through high school. One of the most difficult things were the nightmares. I had one recurring dream that still comes around when I am super stressed. It was the inspiration for my story. I find that the more I tell it the less powerful it is when I have it. It is as follows...

The House

Sitting on the top of a great hill is a massive house. It projects a sense of familiarity in the way many great houses do. It looks strong and well built. It makes you wonder how many generations of families have walked its great halls. My family and I, joined in harmony enter the massive double doors and are met with a wonderous spectacle. The polished white marble that adorns every surface is breathtaking. The rounded double staircase beckons us to climb. At the top we find a long row of doors that enter into a perfectly appointed dining room with a table that stretches far in both directions. There are children my age playing in the floor. Many children in small groups throughout the entire room. None of them take any notice of us. They are too absorbed in their own activities. All of the sudden we feel it! Each of us over the course of just a few moments. It seems my family and I are the only ones to notice. The other children seem not to be effected at all. However, my family and I know that we must exit this place! We begin looking for a way out. We begin rushing away from the evil that is and always has been hunting us. The kind of evil that only those touches by death can sense. We make it to the end of the long room. By now we are running! We leave the long dining room into the back hallway. There are doors spaced along the opposite wall. We fan out. Each of us approaches a different door to try the handle. All are securely locked. Still running we continue down the hall. That is when we smell it. The stench of decay. It is upon us. I see a strange hatch door in the wall ahead and lunge for it. It appears to be a laundry hatch. We throw ourselves in, one after the other. We are falling. The landing is soft and we land in a heap. As we untangle ourourselves from each other and the laundry we landed upon we take in the scene. It is a large walkout basement. Through the open doors we see what must be a hundred clothes lines, all hung with white sheets that seem shine in the sun. We can hear the beast above us. It is clawing its way into the shute. We are running. The sheets create a crazy maze. We use the twist and turns to confuse our pursuer. We weave and bob from row to row. But it is useless. The villain is close on our heels. We see the end of the maze ahead. Perhaps we can outrun it in the open fields. Alas, we are back where we started. The basement doors stand open to us with nowhere left to run. We should have known that no one can outrun death.

The end.

I would say that I pray you will not have tragedy in your life, but without it, would your soul be as deep? Would good times be so great? Would you aspire to connect with the world as you? So I will only hope for you to have love so great in your life that the good outweighs the bad.