I was running, running for my life. I had no concept of direction or time, and worse, I felt the hot breath of my pursuer gripping my neck like a vise. Whatever or whomever it was, prepared to close in on me. My breathing became more and more shallow. My legs were starting to cramp in places I didn’t know I had muscles. It became apparent that my body could not endure much more. I was terrified because I knew I only could distance myself for so long. My calves started submitting to the ever increasing pain and my lungs began to spasm. That’s when I realized that I, Alyxander Blake, had to be having a nightmare. Or better put...another nightmare. The walls of the dream world began to fade as I threw myself into a sitting position in my bed, and panting, looked around myself to find that I was covered in sweat and my sheets were entangled around my legs. I groped for the coin that had hung around my neck since I was just a small child. My breathing finally began to calm as a tear trickled down my face. ”I thought they were over.” I whispered to the unpacked boxes in the quiet of yet another new bedroom.
I glanced over at the stiff silent cardboard as if I was expecting a response. Then, shaking my head in disbelief at the ridiculous notion, I got to my feet and decided that I would start this day an hour early.
Pure laziness, and possibly a little defiance, had me digging through the plastic bins still storing my clothes. A T-shirt and a pair of plain jeans and I was set. After all, who was I trying to impress? Even if I did make friends and settle into my own little groove in this godforsaken small town, It would all come crashing down in a few months when my mom decided to pick up and start over.
I was just beginning to truly find my place in New York before this. I could find my way around the entire city on the subway. I had fallen madly in love with possibly the strangest form of takeout: Indian. Not to mention jogging through central park on the fourth of July, when the entire city was like a ghost town, was awkwardly peaceful.
These thoughts were spinning frantically through my mind as I stood beneath the torrent of scalding water. The heat pouring down on my skin was a continuous distraction from the ever-present images of the horrific nightmares.
They were there constantly. Almost every night for as long as I can remember. They were unexplainable. For the longest time, my mother refused to let me watch horror movies, determined they were the cause. However, they were indescribable. Places I had never been and people I didn’t know. Sometimes, it was in first person, but it felt as if it wasn’t me. A therapist my mother took me to attributed them to the death of my father, but I never even knew him. Only what my mom told me about him, which, quite frankly, wasn’t much.
I was only told that he looked like me. Short black hair, green eyes, and an athletic build. I was told that he and my mother were hopelessly in love, and that she...