Nightmare
Dreams, too many dreams that sear themselves across her consciousness, choking her , smothering her. She gags at the stench of burning flesh as smoke blinds her. Screaming metallic voices tear through her hearing, and all she can think is Run. Run. Run. But she can’t- they won’t allow it, these ancient men with madness in their eyes. She just wants to wake up. She is drawn from her burned and broken body like a last breath. She sees a stoppered bottle, an ornate thing, gilded with circular script, something that might hold perfume. It is so much larger within. This will house you temporarily until an appropriate body is found, the men say. You will forget, they say. But you will remember one day, and when you do, we will be waiting. There is a liminal echo of command, of threat to their words.
She just wants to wake up.
She just wants to wake up.