u/Bulky-Alps6947

Just a minute. I’ll be right there.

-The door endures its beating

I’m so very sorry, but please be patient dear!

-Once more, as if someone were tearing through the wood.

That's enough! Who goes there? I wasn't expecting such rude company, or any for that matter.

-The elderly woman continues, her eye pressed to the peep hole

State your business. I haven't much tolerance for such impatience.

“Good evening, young mind. This one requires you let me inside. Need to speak of your literature.”

Young mind- what? I’m gonna try and take that as a compliment. How did you get this address? Pen names exist for a reason, dear.

-While certainly disturbed, Emilia gets an impression of cognitive disability from the stranger.

“Please. Tea. We can speak over tea?”

I don't know, dear. Could you maybe come back at a later time?

“Not long for this existence. fan.. This is a fan. We must discuss writing.”

Oh.. I’m sorry to hear that hon. But in all honesty.. I'm just not comfortable letting a man inside my home without anyone else around. I just don’t know you, is all.

“Was most excited for meeting. Miss Emelia.. She must open the door.”

I’m not going to do that dearie. How about this.. Tomorrow my nephew is coming to spend the day. How about you come back tomorrow, and we can discuss anything you like.

“This.. It is acceptable. This one is sorry for intrusion.”

It's quite alright. Just remember, come by tomorrow around noon.

“Your mind. It is— something precious. I will see tomorrow.”

… see you tomorrow.

-It's been a day now. He came back, exactly at noon. Knocking with the same strength as before.

The first dream was one of red. I stood beside a river flowing down a mountainous cliff. Staring far into the horizon I saw forests. Their trees pulsing with a lean. Their branches flaccid with razor edges. I knew not what to make of such a display. And I had not the time to ponder before a curdling choir began to sing.

Their song was hypnotizing, supported by screams of the damned. From faces which now appeared from deep inside the trees. I turned to a small shrub, just beside where I stood. Its voice stood out among the others. It was special. For it was the voice of my very own son.

I know not whether my fear makes me less of a man. But I had no other thoughts than to flee. Though as my spirit continued forward in a sprint, I could now see clearly that my boots had sunken deep into the ground.

How had I not noticed the very substance I was planted within. It was wet with red. Soft like rubber, and sticking with an iron grip to my shoes. Veiny and putrid. Growing with spikes of thin black hairs. Almost reminiscent of grass growing from soil. I screamed in utter guttural vain, “WHY HAVE YOU FORSAKEN ME LORD?”

I fell forward, my face sinking into a thick stream of chunky red. Though even as the clots blocked the entrance to my ears- I still heard his cries. Clear as any simple truth. The clots seemed animate. Fighting to fill any entrance to my head. A battle which they won.

As I choked on chunks of blood, I still attempted to plead. Though no sound could escape my retching and desperate attempts to unstick from the ground. Then— I finally woke within the bunker. My tongue pressed against a metal canvas like a brush. Painting strokes of shit and blood.

As I pulled back in horror, I saw it. That very same riverside. Just along the cliff.

The first dream was one of red. I stood beside a river flowing down a mountainous cliff. Staring far into the horizon I saw forests. Their trees pulsing with a lean. Their branches flaccid with razor edges. I knew not what to make of such a display. And I had not the time to ponder before a curdling choir began to sing.

Their song was hypnotizing, supported by screams of the damned. From faces which now appeared from deep inside the trees. I turned to a small shrub, just beside where I stood. Its voice stood out among the others. It was special. For it was the voice of my very own son.

I know not whether my fear makes me less of a man. But I had no other thoughts than to flee. Though as my spirit continued forward in a sprint, I could now see clearly that my boots had sunken deep into the ground.

How had I not noticed the very substance I was planted within. It was wet with red. Soft like rubber, and sticking with an iron grip to my shoes. Veiny and putrid. Growing with spikes of thin black hairs. Almost reminiscent of grass growing from soil. I screamed in utter guttural vain, “WHY HAVE YOU FORSAKEN ME LORD?”

I fell forward, my face sinking into a thick stream of chunky red. Though even as the clots blocked the entrance to my ears- I still heard his cries. Clear as any simple truth. The clots seemed animate. Fighting to fill any entrance to my head. A battle which they won.

As I choked on chunks of blood, I still attempted to plead. Though no sound could escape my retching and desperate attempts to unstick from the ground. Then— I finally woke within the bunker. My tongue pressed against a metal canvas like a brush. Painting strokes of shit and blood.

As I pulled back in horror, I saw it. That very same riverside. Just along the cliff.