remembered what happened the last time he hurried in the darkness. He reached down and felt the ground to make sure it was still there, but his hands touched nothing, only more empty air. It was just him, alone in a void, and nothing else. Nothing but that scream. No wonder he felt so light.
Rayne felt himself smile at the sensation. Though he couldn’t see, he liked the feeling of floating. He let himself drift for a while, wondering if he was actually moving at all, or hovering in place. Even the strange screaming had a pleasant ringing to it.
He shook his head at that realization. He shouldn’t be taking pleasure at someone else’s pain, even if he couldn’t see them. But then, what did that matter in his own dreams?
“Hello?” he called out into the emptiness. “Is anybody there? Can you hear me?”
All of a sudden, he jerked forward, as if an unseen hand had grabbed his entire body to drag him through the nothingness. Savage winds tore past him, not unlike clawed fingers trying and failing to rip him to shreds. A dense fog marred the darkness, and he continued to fall forward. When the sensation of motion stopped, he felt cold, muddy ground touching his bare feet. To feel anything was welcome at this point, but as he stood there, taking in the surroundings, he recognized this place. The same nightmare repeating itself, that same world he’d barely escaped from before.
There were some differences. Rather than sable slimy ground, an ashen mud flowed around his feet like chaotic rivers, joining blackened air on the far horizon. The sky was a devouring void that pulsed with a disjointed sense of time. Antiquated tones of red and gold light from an unseen source tinted everything a dull orange. He heard sounds rushing, an intensified screaming, and as his eyes adjusted, Rayne could now see the skies swarming with roaring creatures. They were umbral masses of eyes and mouths that wailed by, gnashing their teeth as they drew everything around them into their depths, growing in size as they did so.
Rayne staggered in the mud, losing his footing and falling with a squelching, sucking sound. The thick, congealed earth enveloped him, drawing his body deeper into the ground. He struggled to pull himself back up, but there was nothing solid for him to grip on to, and he sank deeper. Now he could no longer see his legs, his body descending slowly into the slimy depths. In the distance, he saw a strange shape silhouetted against the dim light, and it lingered towards him. Rayne waved his arms, hoping to catch the attention of what looked like another person.
The muck reached up to his chest, and he sank much faster now. Within moments his neck was engulfed, and he had to lift his chin up to keep the mud from entering his mouth, but soon he couldn’t even do that, and the stagnant filthy substance poured in, suffocating him. He thrashed his arms, keeping them above his head. The world around him blackened as the mud filled his nose and covered his eyes. He couldn’t cry out for help, and feared he would never see the light of day again. His fear became a bitter bile that stirred in his throat even as mud choked it. There was a disturbing familiarity to the sensation of earth and water closing in around him, threatening to trap him for eternity, but his panic prevented him from mulling over unsettling nostalgia.
A shape thrust itself towards him as his vision darkened. He grabbed what seemed like an arm, and felt something pull him from the mire. As his legs came free, something flung him into a shallower stretch of more grey sludge. He gagged and choked and expelled the vile ooze he’d swallowed. It didn’t taste like earth, more like disgusting, rotten meat with a slight hint of blood. The venomous anger faded as he calmed himself, grateful to still be alive.
He remembered his savior and turned. “Are you—I mean—thank you so much. I thought I was gone for—”
His voice froze as he took in the person standing
Learning to Kill: Stories