There’s something you don’t know about nightmares.
“Never let it be said that the apocalypse wasn’t beautiful.”
Deep down I know it’s a lie. I’m just a bit ashamed to admit it sometimes.
But then the light came in, a golden hand reaching down to lift him from his prison and bring him back to life.
His muscles all tensed and he opened his mouth to scream, but the rushing air caught the sound in his throat and he stifled.
Marcus wrote the words hoping that getting them out of his head and onto paper would somehow make the nightmare go away, but like the bite of hard liquor or the smell of rotten meat, that kind of isolation lingered.
When Morgen woke up to find himself in the middle of a cornfield, he was almost more surprised to discover that he wasn’t hungover or naked.
A moment of fear that caused a wealth of pain.
If you were offered a potion that could make all your wildest dreams come true, but at the end of an hour you’d die, would you take it?
Just drifting through his days like a dream with only short moments of clarity…