Board Thread:Writer's Workshop/@comment-33904527-20191208013000

I had a strange dream last night.

I was at a party. The guests stood politely around my household ballroom, talking amongst themselves in a dignified manner, glasses of fine wine in their hands. They were dressed in smart attire, the men clothed in dapper suits and ties while the women wore stylish gowns and sophisticated high heels. The room was softly lit with fairy lights strung up along the ceiling, and delicate piano music played, though there was not a piano in sight. There seemed to be no noticeable theme or occasion for the event; but the classy atmosphere overtook any need for one. A comfortable essence loomed pleasantly in the air; the party was neither dull and lifeless nor overcrowded and unenjoyable, but instead a perfect blend between.

But as I shuffled across the tiled flooring, a horrifying truth slowly revealed itself. Though their dashing clothes distracted my mind from any unnatural feature at first glance, the instant I moved just a few steps closer, I saw the awful truth about my guests. Each was horrifically marred by some terrible deformity. There was a woman with icy-blue skin and a shock of ginger hair, looking as if she had drowned, chatting courteously to a gentleman with blackened, burned skin, peeling off his flesh. Another man with three bullet holes shot clean through his head was talking to what looked like two twin brothers, one who was covered head to toe in boils and scabs, and the other with an opening melted straight through their chest.

Worse still, I soon realised that my presence was to be met with discomfort and irritation by each and every one of these creatures. Wherever I walked to, they would slide out of my way, avoiding eye contact. To every conversation I tried to enter, I was only met with disdainful looks and raised eyebrows, as if I was the deformed one. Even the butlers, who were noticeably free of disfigurement, simply ignored me and regarded my attendance as some sort of imperfection. I was an outcast.

It wasn’t long after my arrival when the front door creaked open, and an aura of pure, white light shined into the room. The patrons smiled and sighed contently, and as I watched in amazement, one by one, they put down their refreshments and began to siphon through the doorway, disappearing as the light engulfed their bodies.

The last guest slipped through, and the door slammed shut in my face as I approached it.

I leaned over to the window. The light had evaporated, and in its place lay a hellish landscape. Birds lay dead on the branches of leafless trees and the sun floated ominously on the horizon. A thick orange haze oppressed the night sky, casting shadows into the ballroom. It stretched on endlessly before me, now transformed into something far sinister in the blink of an eye.

“You’ve been here far too long,” I felt a voice whisper in my ear. “Better wake up now, before you forget how to.”

And as I opened my mouth to speak, I awoke in a dazed stupor upon my bedroom floor.

That same night, I ran downstairs to the ballroom. It was untouched, exactly as I had left it. There wasn’t a dust particle out of place.

What I did notice the next morning was dozens of footsteps leading away from the front door, imprinted in the snow. 