Later that night, I watched the graveyard next door lie in hushed stillness, the rows of stones softened by moss and wildflowers.
It didn't frighten me, if anything, it felt like the world's reminder to be quiet, to breathe, to remember.
Every headstone seemed to whisper a story, and I couldn't look away, wondering who they had been, and why they were buried so near.
One more peer at the graveyard and then, it pressed so close to the house, I could almost imagine the dead leaning in, listening, drawing nearer.
I drew my curtains closed and pinned them together, lest the old howling wind, like wailings of a damned soul crying out excruciatingly for help, come in the middle of the night.
Relaxing into my bed with a softly scented powdered face, the thought of Uncle Horace crossed my mind again.
He would survive, don't worry an inner voice hushed.
Then the wounds splashed my mind again.
What if he doesn't?
"Oh! Come on, let's be optimistic alright? Many people have made it out of the ICUs. What makes him any different?" I said out loud, bringing the incessant clatter in my head to a halt. Then, rethinking it.
My vision blurred, but I drew my eye open, and they soon cleared again.
Yawning so hard, my jaws ached, and I felt tears prick at my eyelids. I grabbed a novel from a nearby little shelf, just next to my bedside, my nighttime abode.
Then, I tucked myself into my cozy blanket and delved right into it, head safe against a perky pillow.
My favorite thing to do. Plus, I had to finish it, the super interesting "Cradle to Grave" deserved that. I peered hard into the pages, resisting sleep.
The surroundings drew near, shrinking into space. I looked to my right, nothing, stark darkness, the left, ditto.
I moved my hand back for support; there was support, alright, in the form of tall grey walls, whose ends could not be seen when I looked up.
The top was pure darkness, too. It reminded me a lot of the kitchen hallway. But, this wasn't the kitchen hallway. I reconsidered
There was a dusty rotten smell in the air. Ahead of me lay another tunnel of darkness; it looked like a lobby. I couldn't see anything but darkness with a glint of light at the end.
"Mom?!" I shrieked, and I was answered by my echo bouncing off far and wide into the dark. It felt so cold, I thought my blood would freeze. I rubbed my hands together, for warmth, for anchorage.
"Dad?!" I shouted louder, more afraid. Shivering from a good combination of cold and fear.
The same empty echo replied, thrice.
I held myself together, goosebumps planting themselves on my skin from the chilled and feverish rush of blood in my veins.
I opened my mouth to call again, lifting my voice, but just a gasp escaped my mouth.
Then, it struck me as fundamental as life, I didn't want to attract unwanted attention from whatever lurked in the dark, in this strange place.
I stood, confused, stuck.
Pupils dilating wider than ever, craving for light and sight, but it only captured phosphenes, colorful sparks dancing in the dark like fireflies in a jar.
The light at the end seemed like the only hope.
Was I dead? Or what? Was this some sort of game? Finally, I decided to take the dark path ahead, uncertain, helpless. Perhaps the only good decision I'd ever make.
Gathering myself together and panting from the endless flush of adrenaline, I could feel beads of sweat trickle down my cheeks but it was freezing, icicle freezing!
About to take a step forward, another thought stopped me.
There could be anything on the dark floor, centipedes, scorpions, snakes, or a deep hole.
Breathing stung my lungs, and it hurt really badly, but I had to make it out of here.
I felt like I was being watched by something. Something I'd rather not see, something strange, that'll rather not be acknowledged, something that fed on my increasing heartbeats.
With the tiniest courage I could muster from wherever in my little mind, I took a step forward.
Quiet, nothing but the sound of my footstep in the air.
I wondered how it was that my barely seen feet echoed so much, shouting into the walls, announcing my presence, and for a moment, I wished I could walk like cats, silent, or that I had no feet at all.
I took another step. Same.
Nothing. An echo. Something was watching, maybe, but at least, nothing came and grabbed me from behind or snatched me away.
I looked ahead, the glint of light, a source of hope, and took another step carefully, still, calm, no scorpions to my relief, only cold digging into my sweating skin.
There wasn't even a thing, stretched into the dark. Slightly encouraged, I hurried from the fear of the unknown, a creature, an approaching ghost, a trap, or worse, anything unexpected.
I made it to the other end in a race, stopping, panting harder than I ever had my whole life, almost suffocating.
I felt my heart might pound out of my chest, half-frozen with fear and multiple shivers running down my spine relentlessly.
The place seemed far enough to be made in a short while, but I ran and, what felt like a mile, with an empty mind and the fear that I was being chased or followed without looking back.
The much comforting light at the other end turned out to be coming from none other, than an ajar door.
I could tell because I had finally reached it. I gathered some daunt to continue.
At the other end was indeed a door. I repeated in my heart with shortness of breath and shock. I stopped at it, taking a peep inside.
It seemed to be a classroom. But not just any classroom, my classroom at school.
I flung the door open, hoping to obtain help as quickly as possible from this madness, from this mirage.
The door through which I had emerged was behind and seated, faced forward as though listening attentively to the lessons were my classmates.
I could recognize them from their shapes and hairstyles. In front was Emirly, short, fat, brunette, class topper.
My eyes settled on the teacher, in front of me, scribbling furiously on the board.
Then, all of a sudden, the whole class turned back at once, in unison as though they were just observing my presence. I screamed, a blood-curdling shriek, ringing far and light into the air. Alarmed.
They had no faces. Just empty blank stares and oval surfaces.
The teacher turned slowly. A smile on his face, like he savoured my screeching noise. At least he had a face, but I couldn't recognize him.
I'd never seen him before, glasses balancing on his aquiline nose.
"Tricia! Hello, I'm Mr Rudolph, and I'll be teaching you Biology today," he announced proudly, adding more emphasis to teaching.
I turned back to the dark from which I had just escaped and attempted to run, for fear my face might be skinned off too.
Oblivious of the fact that the solid ground below had just vanished, I stepped out and fell into the dark emptiness.
It was abysmal, a continuous falling that didn't seem like it would come to an end, struggling mid-air until I landed hard on the ground.
Surely this must be a confabulation, for a fall that felt like infinity, I didn't think I would recover, but I did.
Standing up and dusting myself with a choking cough, the headstones etched into my vision, an approaching, dark loamy soil beneath me, scantily clad with grasses and graves.
I looked up in terror at the house above, our house.
At the back of the duplex were the windows to my room, and standing there were my parents.
"Mom! Dad!" I shouted, waving frantically. At least I'd found some help. But there was something wrong. Or was I sleepwalking again? If this were a dream, I had to be awake now.
They didn't respond. They just stood there and stared at me like I was a total stranger.
I shouted louder in case they couldn't hear me, running towards the house. But there was no action; they were merely statues, looking, doing nothing to come to my rescue.
I was unfathomable, my own parents not to help, so I continued screaming and running, hoping they would do something.
Suddenly, the teacher I thought I had just escaped appeared before me again.
"Gotcha! You can't run from me!" he grinned, the corner of his lips growing wider.
At this rate, I thought teeth would open up to his forehead and a smile would join there, like the mouth of a tapeworm.
Instinctively picking up a stone I launched it at him, hoping it'd move him out of the way, but it narrowly missed him. I hadn't aimed very well or had I, but air pressure wasn't available over here?
He approached me, arms wide open. I took to the bushes, I didn't look back, running as fast as my little legs could carry me, further and further into the grim woods.
My pace slowed, and with a feeling that I had lost track of the alley, I looked back, skeptical that I had made it.
I was right, he was nowhere to be found. By now, the cold had reduced and all I felt was the heat, sweat, and fear.
The destination of my uncalculated metres race turned out to be a place I had been earlier.
The same bed, the same man lying on it, helpless, nasogastric pipes and drip bags full of saline solution, Uncle Horace.
He was in bed, still sick. The two nurses were still by his side.
"Help please! I'm being chased! Someone is chasing me in the woods. I don't know him! Help me! Please! Help! Come with me, you should check it! I'm not making anything up…" I shrieked in explanation, a desperate attempt to get aid.
The dwarf nurse hushed me immediately.
I felt like my mouth had been pinned. I hadn't expected the reaction.
I swallowed hard. My only source of help was shutting me up.
Then, she sank into the wall, stretching into the dark, shadowy figure I'd seen earlier at the hospital, except she was now incredibly long and thin.
The other nurse did nothing. She continued administering an injection to his arms.
Uncle Horace seemed unconscious.
She barely acknowledged the dark figure beside her nor did the transforming nurse by her side come to her observation.
Maybe she did, but she was one of them.
"Can't…" I started loudly, but I felt like my voice was tuned down, and the rest of the words came as a mumble, like I had lost my voice.
"You see that she's not real?" I finished off, shocked at my voice. It was completely inaudible against my own will. The dark figure approached me, stretching thinner and longer as it did. I wanted to run, to scream but I was mute and motionless. Like I was being consumed from the inside, helpless, dying with fear.