Harry Mason (shotgun_mason) wrote in paragraffiti, @ 2008-10-07 20:29:00 |
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Entry tags: | harry mason, heather mason, sam winchester |
I.. had this dream.
I was sitting on the edge of an old hospital bed…not doing much of anything. A nightmare had awoken me and beads of sweat dripped down my body in cold fear.
I look back and realize it was a dream within a dream but it felt real all the same.
Little trickles of a conversation came to mind but fell dead on the floor the moment I tried to remember them. Fleeting… a good word. A lot of my life is like that.
Not wanting to sound cliché, I say this tentatively, but it seems that I can’t hold on to much of anything for very long without it slipping through my fingers. My career. My wife. My daughters. Even my sanity is starting to go from what I can jumble together in my head.
The more I push things to try and make sense the less coherent they become until I’m reduced to a blundering idiot with mismatched words and nothing to show for all my trials and tribulations.
I sit here now wondering how much more I have to give? How much more I have to sacrifice for it to all end once and for all. My own life?
Somehow, I don’t think that would be enough.
I think I’m supposed to suffer. That this is my punishment.
If there really is god. A real god. What have I done to incur this hellish shamble of an existence?
Must I sit here like Faust and obsess until my hand of cards lead right to the untrickable devil himself?
Or must I simply look in the mirror to find him?
Snow was falling.. Like it always does in Silent Hill. I remember thinking it was strange because of the season but I’ve heard of such things so I figured it would pass over the valley and dissipate with the changing pressure. It had never occurred to me that the snow was an ill omen. That it was neither man made nor natural. Who had ever heard of supernatural snow?
It was getting late and Cheryl was tired…we were almost there and I could put her to bed. I remember pushing down hard on the accelerator to try and make up some of the time.
Still, it was hard to see with the fog… a figure.. In the road…distracted me.
I swerved… and we…I don’t remember what happened next. Darkness.
When I came too, Cheryl was gone…her door still open and swinging on the squeaking hinges I had neglected to oil before leaving on the trip.
It was so stupid of me to have brought her.
I went there to relax…to try and hammer out an outline for an upcoming book I had been toying with. A crime drama set in the early twenties…flavored in the style of Film Noir.
This dream… was like a juxtaposition of memory-
bizarre creations of my restless subconscious.
Funny how we process
Every time I. Every time I try to recall what happened in it’s entirety…
I forget.. And fill in the blanks with unexplainable conversations and happenings.
Like a dream within a dream.
A dream with claws and a shadow. As if it had manifested it’s self into physical form. Creeping along the hallways and ceilings. Just waiting for it’s perfect chance to strike.
Even here. Even miles and miles away… I still see things. I thought it would go away if I tried to ignore it. Wish as hard as I could and maybe, just maybe I would catch a lucky break.
I’ve never been a lucky man.
It was cold… in my dream. I remember getting out of the jeep and stumbling down the side of the off ramp into the woods below the highway. Then suddenly I was in a building… it was small. A bar. Curious, I looked around the counter and found a key. There was a safe too. I don’t remember the combination but somehow I opened it only to find bags of white powder.
Heavy drugs.
One of the bags exploded in my hands and I fell backwards onto the floor. After the dust had settled I found I was no longer in the bar but on the floor of a small shop, a gaping hole to my left. An alter was on the other side of it. With a chalice full of the power I had nearly choked on before hand.
White Claudia.
That’s what it’s called.
Suddenly voices started ringing out from all around me, my head swimming, that vile stuff in my nose and mouth.
The walls turned to TV screens and Cheryl appeared. Screaming for my help. She was scared. Alone… I started yelling, pounding against the screens but they ripped at the slightest touch. Flimsy paper… I knocked against them too hard and fell through. Rust and blood all around me. It smelled like death and I was trapped.
A small room. A door on either side.
With no other option I opened the door and left only to reappear in the same room through the other door.
There was no escape but screams were still roaring in my ears. Threatening to burst my eardrums and boil my blood as it coursed through my throbbing heart. Terror was all I felt as I ran though the door again and again and again and again and again and again and again-
[EDIT ooc: He forgot about sam]Only... once I tripped, spun around.
It was Cheryl's body.
The corpse burst into flame and began to melt, boils and smoky tendrils eating away the flesh and leaving behind Heather’s familiar outline.
She moaned softly, stirring from her sleep and I approached.
“Dad-” He voice so soft.
“I’m here…” I could hear my voice but didn’t recognize it. Hollow. Cold.
“What? Dad NO!-”
My hands around her throat.
Fingers squeezing until they broke skin, blood pooling all around.
It splattered across the floor, climbed up the walls, covered everything and began to burn like acid.
I woke up screaming.I just. Can't do this.
I know she needs me, but how am I supposed to be there?
How am I supposed to take care of her.
Why didn't I get sick on the water?
Why didn't I drink the bottled water I bought?
Why did I have to summon Cheryl?
Too many un answered questions.