Chapter 1: The Dream
The place was a bleached nightmare—a vast, achromatic expanse that refused to provide a horizon or a shadow. In the center of this nothingness lay a boy. His long dark, wavy hair, touched with a hidden tone of brown, spilled across the floor like spilled ink on a fresh canvas. He remained deathly still, eyes the color of pale earth closed tight, as if his subconscious was the only thing keeping the endless white from erasing him entirely.
The boy's body flickered, he took a deep breath and rolled over to other side. He felt a slight hint of chill in his body. Suddenly he realized something.
"Ah! What am I doing on the floor? It is so cold. Did I fall over while sleeping?"
Ishan, half-asleep and with half-closed eyes, tilted his head toward the bed and reached out to grab the familiar edge of the mattress, but his hand met nothing but air. Lacking support, he was thrown to the ground by his own weight.
A loud thud echoed in the room.
Startled, he opened his eyes wide and scanned his surroundings, tilting his head in every direction. There were no walls, no roof, no ceiling, and no windows.
"This is not my room. What is this place… some kind of domain, like in fantasy novels?"
Ishan tried to laugh it off, but the sound died in his throat. It was deathly silent. His head started to spin at the sight of the strange place. He tried to remain calm.
"Where am I?"
He pushed himself up. "Am I dreaming?" He clenched his fist and swung it into his own solar plexus. The air left his lungs in a sharp, pathetic wheeze. A dull ache spread through his ribs, and he let out a low growl. The sound of the punch echoed in the strange place.
"Ouch. This hurts."
Ishan suddenly realized that this was no dream. Pain was too vivid, too real. His feet began to grow numb, and as his body temperature plummeted, a primal fear took hold. He screamed, his voice cracking. " Oh no… no, no, no! Where am I? Mom! Dad! Where are you? Somebody please, get me out of here! Where am I, damn it!"
Suddenly his calmness vanished.
He started running in every direction, desperate to find an escape, but everywhere he went, he saw only the endless white domain which stretched on forever.
"Damn it, it is no use."
Ishan forced himself to calm down. Amidst the pain, some logical thoughts surfaced in his mind: How could a sound echo in an endless domain? An echo requires a surface, like a wall, trees, or a mountain for the sound waves to bounce off and return to the ears. If this domain is truly infinite and empty, the sound of the punch should have travelled away forever, getting quieter and quieter until it faded into nothing. Yet, it had returned to him.
'And I can tell from this pain that I am not dreaming. What even is this place?'
He searched for any landmark, any shift in the white expanse, but found nothing. Finally, he admitted defeat and sank to the ground in sorrow. Tears began to flow. What if I am stuck here forever? He crouched, folding his legs and hugging them tight with his arms.
"Where are you, Mom… Dad…" he whispered.
Suddenly, a creepy laugh drifted through the expanse. It sounded as if it were miles away and right behind his ear at the same time. It was a thin, whistling giggle that made his skin crawl.
"Hey boy… are you scared?"
His body shivered, leaving him deeply terrified by the disembodied voice. It was unnatural; the sound did not just enter his ears, but settled on his skin like a layer of frost.
'Since I am not dreaming, could it be that I am dead? It is the only explanation for this strange place. I wonder if I am trapped in a void between heaven and hell, and my ultimate fate is being decided at this very moment. It is not funny, yet I cannot stop my mind from spiraling into these dark possibilities.'
He knew he had to try and reason with the strange voice, even if he was not sure where it was coming from. He needed to choose his words with extreme care if he wanted to find out where he was, and more importantly, how to get out.
"Who are you?" he asked, his voice soft and trembling. "Please, let me leave this place."
Suddenly, the environment began to shift. A thick fog engulfed him, swirling with colors that changed randomly, a beautiful yet haunting sight. Amidst the mist, a strange figure began to materialize, its form obscured by the haze. The figure stepped forward towards Ishan. He tripped in fear, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He crawled backward hastily and shouted, "Show yourself!"
The figure drew closer to Ishan and crouched before him, its movements fluid and unnatural.
"Do not worry," it rasped, the voice settling on Ishan's skin like frost. "I shall not harm you."
Thud… Thud… Thud…
The figure began to extend a hand toward him, but a sudden sound snapped its attention away. It spun around, peering into the distance. Out of the absolute nothingness, a door materialized in the white expanse. Then, bit by bit, the void that had seemed infinite began to bleed away, replaced by the solid lines of a room.
Thud… Thud… Thud…
"Ishan… wake up, son. You are getting late for school."
The sound came from afar. A clock ticked in Ishan's ears; the sound of ringing grew louder and louder until it was a deafening roar. He screamed in pain as he jolted awake. His head felt heavy, throbbing with a dull ache.
My head feels heavy. Ah! It hurts. It hurts.
He blinked, trying to regain his senses. Was that a nightmare?His heart beat steadily. Another knock hammered on the door. "Open the door, Ishan!"
All thoughts in Ishan's mind vanished and he answered, "I am coming, Mom. Wait a minute."
He stood up and realized his feet felt wet. He looked down and saw that the sheets were utterly drenched in sweat.
'Mom will freak out; I need to hide this.'
He opened the wardrobe, pulled out fresh sheets, and shoved the sweaty ones inside. He hastily remade the bed and opened the door to see his mother.
His mother stood there, her dark black eyes and long hair framed by the hallway light.
"Why are you drenched in sweat?"
"Oh, this… um… I was exercising," Ishan lied. "The inter-school sports competitions are coming up soon, you know? Just getting a head start."
"Just get fresh and come down for breakfast," her suspicion seemingly satisfied.
Ishan waited for her to leave before heading to the bath. He pulled on his school uniform, and after a moment of stealthy maneuvering, he managed to sneak the dirty sheets into the washing machine.
He went downstairs for breakfast. He found his father reading the morning newspaper on the couch. He was roughly 178 cm tall with brown hair and a beard.
"Good morning, Father. Dear Mother…" Ishan forced a smile.
"Why weren't you opening the door when I knocked, Ishan?"
'I cannot tell her that I had a nightmare. She will just taunt me, "How old are you, twelve?" It would be so humiliating. Now that I think about it, it was... a silly dream. Have I been reading too much fantasy novels lately?'
"I was wearing headphones while I exercised, Mom. My head just feels a bit heavy today. It won't stop hurting."
His mother stepped closer, placing her cool palm against his forehead to check for a fever.
"Do you want to take a day off?" she asked, her voice softening with genuine concern
"No, Mom, I have a test at school today. I can't skip it."
His father lowered the paper and offered a smile.
"Don't worry. If you don't feel like going, I can talk to your teachers."
"No, Dad, I think I am fine, it is just a normal head ache. It will go away."
"Alright, then eat fast; I am getting late for work."
Ishan picked up a pancake. "Actually, I'm not that hungry. Let's go."
"Finish your breakfast!" his mother scolded.
He kissed her on the cheek. "Sorry, Mom, I am getting late. I will eat something in the cafeteria." He ran out to the car before she could argue.
"You are spoiling the kid," his mother sighed.
"What did I do?" his dad replied with a chuckle. "Goodbye, honey!"
As they drove, the morning sun felt too bright against his eyes.
"Hey, Dad, can we go faster? We need to pick up Maya and Aakash on the way as well."
"We need to follow road safety rules, son," his father replied with his usual calm.
Ishan sat back, his annoyance masked by the lingering phantom of the void, and took a bite of his pancake. He could not stop thinking about the things he saw when he was asleep.
They picked up his friends. Maya and Aakash greets his father, "good morning uncle."
"Good morning, kiddos," he replied."
Ishan looked at Maya. She was holding a book in her right hand; the golden light of the sun caught the edge of the car window just as a sudden gust of wind swept her perfect raven-black hair, covering her face. She ran a hand through her strands to adjust them, revealing her beautiful grey eyes and long eyelashes.
Ishan found himself staring, unable to look away until Maya glanced at him. "Do you want to say something, retard?"
Ishan's face reddened. "Uh, do you even read that book in your sleep?"
Aakash giggled from beside them. "I was wondering the same thing."
Maya shot them a sharp look. "Don't come crying to me for help when exams are nearby. I remember last year quite clearly."
Ishan playfully snatched the book from her hands. "Do we always have to talk about studies and stuff? Can't we just enjoy the little time we spend with each other outside of school?"
"Alright," Maya said, leaning back. "What do you want to talk about, Ishan?"
There was a short silence. Ishan's mind flickered back to the void, then to the court. "Did you watch my practice sessions yesterday?"
"Yeah, you're doing great," Maya said, her voice softening. Ishan felt a small, private smile tug at his lips.
Then she added, "How could I skip them? That is the only time I can see Shubham during school. Is he going to be your captain?"
Ishan's smile died instantly. He hesitated, a dull weight settling in his chest. "Yeah," he replied, his voice flat. "I think he'll be chosen. He's a senior, and he's a good player."
The silence stretched on until they reached the school. "Thank you for dropping us, Uncle. We really appreciate it."
"Oh, it's alright, kids. Have a great day."
As they piled out, Aakash turned to him. "Are you going directly to practice, Ishan?"
"Yeah, I guess so," Ishan replied, his thoughts already shifting to the playground, the only place where he could hope to forget the echo of that whistling laugh.