Board Thread:Writer's Workshop/@comment-26696802-20150715041656

I still remember that night like it was yesterday. Fifteen years. Fifteen years and I still tremble at the images in my head, thanks to my recurring nightmares. Dreams usually exaggerate things and people that you see during the day, but not mine. It's always the same images every single time. The same rooms, the same sounds, the same air. Everything down to the last detail. It didn't take me long to realize this happens to me on the same night every week. I've woken up every single Sunday at 1:35AM because of this torment. Ever since that Sunday when everything changed.

The year 2000 was a time to celebrate being young and living in two different millenniums. It used to be the coolest thing. I bragged about it to my classmates and they would share the same excitement. Those were the best times for me. I actually had friends, I made good grades and had a reason to wake up with a smile every morning. I actually had goals to reach and people to make proud. One Sunday evening, I was looking out the window and staring at the blood orange sky. Beautiful.

I heard my mom call me from downstairs. We lived in a small two-story house. Narrow corridors, off-white wallpaper and bare wooden floors. We weren't rich by any means, but we were comfortable and that's what mattered the most. She called out to me again as I was on my way down. Dinner was ready. I could smell it from the top of the stairs and immediately my stomach growled. I sat on the handrail of the stairs and slid my way down. That was my favorite part of the house. No matter how many times I landed on my face trying to master that rail I always stood back up and eventually I just got used to the pain. No big deal. Like my mom says, "patience pays off". She always told me to never give up, even when I felt at my lowest. It helped me during my childhood and somehow it still lingers in my mind. It's the only reason I haven't taken my life already.

We had chicken that night, with rice and spinach on the side. Contrary to how most kids feel about vegetables, I never thought spinach was that terrible. Then again, to me, food is food. As long as I'm fed, I'm happy. My dad was eating and watching the news at the same time. Mom watched the news with him. They both groaned at the news report of a house fire that took place earlier that day. "What a shame", I thought. It seemed like a house close by because it had a similar structure to ours. We didn't hear any sirens or firefighters passing by so maybe it was just a coincidence. I never really watched the news but something about that report made me feel uncomfortable. I slowly began to lose my appetite. I put my fork down, gently pushed my plate aside and went back upstairs. As I grabbed the handrail I noticed it wobbling a little. I've been sliding down that rail for who knows how long, but today was the first day something in our house came loose. First time for everything? No. Something was off that evening. Perhaps it was the news report making me feel worse by the minute. I mean that was my first time ever hearing about people burning to death.

Moments later I felt it. The nausea. I was definitely going to throw up. No time to get fresh air or even breathe calmly. It was all going to come out within seconds. Luckily there was a bathroom right next to the stairs so I rushed in, leaned over the toilet and brought back up everything I just ate. It was cooked so perfectly. The way my mom always made it. It couldn't have been food poisoning. My parents didn't hear me over the television downstairs. Guess they were too distracted by the news. After a few minutes of slow and steady breaths I was able to stand up again. I wasn't feeling it for the rest of that evening. School started early the next day so I had to get to bed. Usually by 8:30 I'm sound asleep, but I was feeling more awake than I had been all day. My body felt depressed but my mind was highly alert. I couldn't close my eyes and I rolled in my bed constantly. For three whole hours I was wired. I waited for my eyes to feel heavy, then the moment finally arrived. By 11:45 I was out.

1:35AM. The time was bright as hell on that clock. I heard the bloodcurdling screams from downstairs. My mother's was the loudest. My father's screams were faint and dying out. That's when the smell of smoke hit me. I gasped and took a huge gulp. My throat was still weird after my vomiting incident. Then it hit me: my house was on fire! I don't know what started it exactly since dinner was over a while ago. Could the stove have been on without them knowing?

I rushed up from my bed, frantic and confused. I just woke up after barely sleeping for a couple of hours. I wasn't ready to face such a situation immediately after getting up. The screams died out as I ran down the stairs. The smoke became thicker and it was very difficult to breathe. I couldn't see my parents. No matter how loud I shouted for them I couldn't get a response. My heart sunk. I knew they were dead. My heart was racing so fast and everything was happening all at once. I didn't know what else to do, so I ran. I ran faster than I've ever done in my life. Within seconds I was outside, looking back at the ball of flames that was my house. The nearest house was empty. Nobody lived there. I felt so lost and alone. I remember the panic. My tears came out uncontrollably and I couldn't stop hyperventilating. What the fuck happened? It was all a blur from that moment on. I never returned to that neighborhood. I don't even know how I survived those next few days without any other kind of human contact. Mom and dad were the only family I knew.

Over the years, I searched for food in the trash, lived in alleyways and spent my days living homeless. I wasn't patient enough for that when winter came. It was too cold. Eventually I got a job that didn't require much information from me. A small convenience store about 3 hours from my childhood home. As long as I got the job done everything was fine, and that was enough to keep me comfortable. At least as comfortable as I could have been during those times. My boss let me sleep in the back room at work and I never caused any problems. Honestly, I think the only reason he continued to let me sleep there was for someone to be there at all times in case someone tried to break in. Not a big deal. Everyone has to start from somewhere, after all.

The nightmares were so disturbing but after years of putting up with them I reacted to them less and less. Still, I couldn't shake this feeling off entirely. The feeling that something's been left unfinished. As crazy as this sounds...I think I should go back. Maybe it'll help me somehow. Bring closure. I can handle a lot given my unfortunate past but this has got to stop. I need to think about the future and stop dwelling on the past. I need to be happy. At 10 O'clock I closed the store. I didn't pack much, just a flashlight and a snack for the trip. I wasn't planning on staying at the house for more than an hour or two. I saved up more than enough money to get me around town, so three hours later and I'm h...here.

I stare at the remains of my old house, too scared to call it “home”. Weird for it to be so cool out during the summer. Maybe it's just me, standing before my horrible past. Chills travel up and down my body. The house hasn't been touched since the accident. I also see that the nearest house is still the same. Empty. I take a small step towards my old property, reminding myself that it's just a house. An old, crumbling piece of my history. The door's missing, perhaps due to the damage caused by the fire. Now it's just a doorway hiding the entrance in darkness. I pull out my flashlight and finally enter the house.

The damage from the fire looks even worse in here than it does outside. The entrance, the kitchen, and stairs all look like an aftermath of what I've been seeing in my nightmares. It's the silence after the storm. I disrupt the silence with each step I take through these weakened wood floors. I take slow, steady breaths, letting this moment sink in, and I turn to the stairwell. The handrail on the stairs is surprisingly still holding up. I touch it and find that it's wobbling much more than I remembered it to, but nonetheless, it survived the fire. I slowly ascend the stairs and travel to my old bedroom. Most of it is destroyed, but the bed's still intact. The mattress is covered with so much dust and weird stains. I don't really care how it looks, I just want to lie in it like I did when I was young. I sit on the mattress and my weight slightly bends it towards the middle, causing it to creak. I point my flashlight up to the ceiling to illuminate the room a bit.

My heart begins to race as I lie down. You ever get that feeling when you're in bed in the dark and you stare at your door while it's cracked? Some sort of paranoid feeling that if you keep staring at the crack long enough, you'll see something pop up and stare right back at you from the other side? It feels like it could really happen when you're almost deafened by the sound of your rapid heartbeat. I continue to stare and my pulse almost sounds like a drum roll. I'm really expecting to see something. Why did I come here? I wish I was back at the store with the lights on. This was a bad idea. I can't move. I'm frozen in fear. The anticipation is killing me. I shine my flashlight at the door and see nothing but darkness on the other side. It's all in my head. I shouldn't be this scared. That's the point of me being here. I take a deep breath and decide that I'm just being paranoid. It's just a childhood fear that stuck with me.

Something's frying downstairs...What?! Something's actually happening downstairs. I don't know who that could be. While I'm in bed my eyes move around the room, looking for a weapon. This was definitely a bad idea. There's nothing here that could be useful. Oh my God! I creep my way to the door, flashlight pointed straight through the crack. The corridor gets brighter as I get closer to it. My hand shakes as it reaches for the door and I move it open. The frying is louder now. I'm getting closer. Slowly descending the steps I begin to smell the food. Chicken, rice and spinach. The frying was way too loud for it to cook properly. I see smoke coming from the kitchen area. I can't believe this is happening. I could be out of this house in less than a second, but then I hear the television static. That news report about the house fire's going to come on, I bet. I can barely make out the words through the awful signal, but it's definitely the same report I heard during that dinner. Same exact voice. I expect to feel sick again but...nothing. My stomach feels fine. I slowly make my way to the kitchen, wondering how this smoke started. Nobody's in here. Am I imagining this? How is this stove even working? I twist the switch and turn it off. The frying simmers down until it's finally quiet again. All of the smoke clears and reveals the food in the pan. It looks perfect. Not burned in the slightest. Impossible.

I hear a creak. Someone's at the stairs! What did I just do?! I shouldn't have come here! This can't happen, this isn't my time! Someone's definitely coming down those stairs. I wait and wait but nothing. It's silent again. Should I make a run for the door? It's what I should be doing. If I run, how will I know something's not waiting for me by the stairs? Another creak, right at the kitchen entrance. Nobody's there. Now another one, this time coming from the table area...It's just the house settling. I breathe out and smile a little. It's nothing! I look down at the food and it's still perfect. It's so tempting. How can it be here? My parents are gone...who made this? I have to eat it. Maybe this is what I came here for. Maybe it was supposed to be here...or maybe this is a new nightmare. There's only one way to find out. I take a bite out of the chicken and it's as real as it can be. I haven't eaten anything this good since the incident. I don't even care anymore about how this got here, I'm finishing the entire meal.

Maybe this is the closure I was looking for. I don't feel scared anymore. I feel satisfied, like I can move on. Who knows what kind of dreams I'll have now? I'm excited to find out. I turn around and immediately regret my entire night. I've never seen a burn victim before. Not even those of my parents, who are sitting at the table right before me. What's happening?! This can't be real! It's them! Christ they're so black! Charred from the flames! But their eyes...they're glowing red. I can't have this anymore. I run to the...wait where the door? I scream for help, banging my arms against the wood, but there's no sound! No voice coming out of my mouth. This has to be a new nightmare. I left my flashlight in the kitchen so I can't see, but this is the entrance!

They're screaming again! Those screams...they're in so much pain! I'm so sorry I ran away. My pulse is out of control. The screams are so loud I can't handle it! I cover my ears and hope that it will end. They stumble towards me, reaching out as they scream in agony. The floor creaks as they take another step towards me. I refuse to look at their faces anymore. Those are not my parents. I'll just close my eyes and wake up soon. It's just a dream.

I feel sick. The food's about to come up. I fall over and let it all out. My eyes open back up and I see that they're not in front of me anymore. I can still hear their screams and the floor creaking in front of me. I'm still stuck here. They won't leave me alone! Stop screaming! 