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Sunday, August 26

A Haunted Express


“Get back! Get back to the Waiting Room!” exclaimed Mrs. B, as she pounds her mallet of steel on the wall.

She has changed, a lot.

She was one of my teachers in high school. But now, it seems as if she’s part of the authorities. Like a military woman, or a policewoman, or more of a commander of some army. And in my head, I was thinking, “What happened between then and now? Why did she change?”

“One minute! I just need to get a band-aid, and antibiotics,” I said. But I was wondering, “why antibiotics?”

I remember being scratched during a stampede. It’s just a minor wound, though, but she bought my excuse. It bought me some time to go over my stuff in my bag, and look for something. Funny how I can’t remember what I was looking for, until Mrs. B bolted inside the Luggage Room.

“What’s taking you so long? You got your band-aid already!” fumed Mrs. B. 

She looked displeased, as if I disobeyed her command to get back to the Waiting Room.

“I need my meds! See?” I showed her a packet of pills, without even reading what they’re for.

“Faster! Move faster!” shouted Mrs. B. In my head, I was thinking, “What is it with her? What’s with all the shouting?”

“Ok. Ok. Jeez,” I exclaimed, and then ran out of room.

Outside, it was a horrid sight to behold—a lot of bodies were scattered on the ground, mostly bathing in their own blood. Majority of them are shot. Some are barely breathing; while others just lay lifeless on the floor.

I ran to safety, working my way towards the sign board that says “Waiting Room.”

Then I woke up, gasping for air.


***to be continued…


P.S. F*ck dreams! Why do they have to be this crazy?

2 comments:

Hustin said...

is that a recurring dream? series ba itech. that's scary ah.

Nate said...

@Hustin: scary noh?! i'm still trying to recall yung ibang detalye nung dream.. i'll post the other parts soon.. :)

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