It was cold,
cold,
the cold of death.
Where was I? Was I dead? I had gone to sleep that night in the warmth of my bed and when I awoke it was dark.
Oh, it was so dark.
Dark and cold, darker and colder than the deepest pit of hell. I was lieing on my back on a hard damp floor and I was afraid to walk so I crawled,
slowly,
ever so slowly I crawled.
I would find a way out of this terrible hell, if I truly was dead then I would show death that it could not keep me here. So I crawled on untill my hands hit a wall. A wall that was wet with a warm slime. Then I saw light, just a thin little line, and I crawled over to it. I put my hands up to the warm, wet wall and pushed,
I pushed hard.
It gave and moved outward. That was when I saw that the walls were not covered with slime, but with blood! The blood of those who've entered this terrible hole before me. I stood up and stumbled,
I stumbled through the door into a room filled with fire, a sea of fire that stretched on and on forever. Yes they were the fires of hell, and in that fire I saw the souls of many, and heard thier tortured screams. And then I was surrounded, surrounded by hundreds of ghouls and demons. They were screeching with laughter, and that laughter grew, it grew louder and louder untill I could bear it no longer. I tried to run, but they reached out and grabed me. I broke away and ran. Then I tripped and I was falling,
falling.
I awoke with a start, my body drenched with sweat, I was tangled up in my sheets lieing on the floor next to my bed. I could hear a child crying from somewhere in the distance, and the sun was shining brightly upon my face. Just a nightmare I thought with relief, then I noticed my hands. They were covered with blood,
blood that was not my own.
Just a nightmare I thought,
or was it?