I woke up with a start, my heart racing and my breath coming in short gasps. The familiar feeling of dread lingered, a constant companion I'd grown accustomed to over the past three years. I lay in bed, my sheets tangled around my legs, as the remnants of my nightmare faded like sand slipping through my fingers.
It's always the same dream, the same fear, the same desperate attempt to escape. I'm running down a dark, endless hallway, the air thick with an unseen presence. A white light beckons in the distance, my only hope for salvation. But the shadow behind me is relentless, its presence growing stronger with every step.
As I run, the floor beneath me seems to shift and twist, making it harder to find my footing. The shadow gains ground, its dark tendrils reaching out to snatch me. Just when all hope seems lost, I wake up.
At first, the nightmare terrified me. I'd wake up screaming, my heart pounding in my chest. But over time, the fear gave way to a sense of resignation. This is my reality, a recurring dream that refuses to let me go.
I threw off the covers and got out of bed, my movements mechanical. I've been having this dream for three years, ever since I was found wandering the streets with no memory of who I was or where I came from. The only clue was my name, Alexandra Storm, which I was told was the name on a note in my pocket.
I padded over to the window and pulled back the curtains, letting the morning light flood in. The world outside is bright and normal, a stark contrast to the dark, twisted landscape of my dreams.
I took a deep breath, trying to shake off the lingering fear. It's just a dream, I told myself. It doesn't mean anything. But as I turned away from the window, I couldn't shake the feeling that the shadow in my dream was more than just a product of my imagination. It's a reminder that there are things in the darkness, waiting to pounce. And I'm running out of time.
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I brushed off the lingering unease from my dream and got ready for school. I'm not a fan of baths, so I hopped into the shower instead. The warm water helped wash away the remnants of my nightmare.
After showering, I quickly got dressed in my school uniform - a black skirt and white shirt. I'd pick up my tie at school. As I was leaving my room, Laura was waiting for me in the hallway, a sly grin spreading across her face.
Before I could react, she snapped a picture of me, catching me off guard. I rolled my eyes good-naturedly as Laura giggled.
"Hey, I needed a new profile picture for you!" she teased.
We headed downstairs to the kitchen, where Laura had already prepared a warm bowl of lemon maize meal porridge. We chatted about my first day of school, and I couldn't help but feel a mix of excitement and nerves.
As I finished up my breakfast and grabbed my bag, I turned to Laura with a concerned expression. "Hey, are you alright? You're not... showing much, but I know you're pregnant."
Laura smiled reassuringly. "I'm fine, kiddo. I'm not due for another five months. And if things get too hard, I can always move in with my dad for a bit."
I nodded, feeling a bit better. I didn't want anything to happen to Laura or the baby.
With that, I gave Laura a quick hug and headed out the door.
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As I stepped out into the crisp Cape Town morning, the cool breeze carried the sweet scent of blooming flowers and the distant hum of the city. I placed my black cap on, the one Tristan gifted me two years ago, and a wave of nostalgia washed over me. The cap was faded and worn, but it remained my most treasured possession, a tangible reminder of Tristan's kindness. His bright smile and infectious laughter flashed in my mind, and for a moment, the ache of his loss felt fresh again.
Tristan had found me wandering the streets, lost, crying, and alone. The memory of that day still lingered, the feeling of desperation and hopelessness a heavy burden. But Tristan's warmth and compassion had been a beacon of hope. He took me to his place, and he and Lora took care of me, showing me a love and kindness I thought I'd never experience again.
Two years went by, and just when everything was going great, Tristan's life was cut short in a tragic head-on collision with a bus. The pain of that day still felt like an open wound. I remembered how devastated Lora was, her eyes red-rimmed from crying, her face pale with shock. She hadn't known yet that she was pregnant, and the thought of raising their child without Tristan by her side was a heartbreaking reality.
I took a deep breath, pushing aside the memories, and focused on the present. I quickly used my only arm to sling my school bag on, the familiar weight a comforting sensation. The school wasn't far, and the neighborhood wasn't bad – that's saying a lot when you're living in Cape Town. As I walked, the vibrant sounds and colors of the city surrounded me, but my mind lingered on Tristan, and the ache of his loss still felt like a heavy weight.
Even though I felt strange as I walked to school, at first, I felt like someone was following me, but that wasn't it. The sensation grew and grew until it just stopped. At one point, I felt like I was in a crowd of people, and the next, I was alone in a dark room. This is not the first time such things have happened. They usually last a little over a second, but for the past month, the feeling of unease has been growing. Even in my nightmares, there are fewer shadows than before. I think if I could try to make out the figure chasing me, but I never get the chance. It always starts the same, with me running, and ends right before it catches me.
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As I stood before the school entrance, a mix of emotions swirled inside me. Excitement wrestled with nerves, and a hint of fear lingered, like a shadow in the corner of my mind. A small wall separated the school from the pedestrian walkway, where a few students lingered, chatting or listening to music on their headphones. I took a deep breath, trying to shake off the feeling of overwhelm that came with not knowing where to go. Deciding to take the plunge, I stepped forward.
But my grand entrance was foiled as I tripped over the gate's railing, landing awkwardly on my knees. Books spilled out of my bag, and I couldn't help but groan at the worst possible start to the day. A few students turned to stare, and I felt my face heat up with embarrassment.
As I scrambled to gather my belongings, I noticed two students watching me from a short distance away. They seemed amused by my mishap, but their expressions were kind, rather than mocking. I smiled weakly, feeling a bit self-conscious, and quickly looked away, focusing on gathering my things.
Little did I know, those two students would soon become integral to my life. But for now, they were just two unfamiliar faces in a sea of strangers.
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I quickly stood up, dusting myself off, Jayden chuckled. "Well, that was a grand entrance! I'm surprised you didn't get a standing ovation."
Nkosi, on the other hand, gave me a brief, polite smile. "Hey, are you okay?" His tone was friendly, but his eyes seemed distant, as if his mind was elsewhere.
I smiled back at Jayden. "Shut up, I'm just a little clumsy." I glanced at Nkosi. "And yeah, I'm fine, thanks."
Nkosi nodded, still seeming a bit preoccupied. "Cool. We should get going."
Jayden grinned. "Yeah, we don't want to be late for our first day. Unless, of course, you're trying to make a fashion statement with that dirt on your knee."
Nkosi shot Jayden a look. "Dude, come on. Let's go."
As they turned to leave, I noticed the small, green book on the floor. "Hey, Jayden! Wait! Is this yours?" I called out, holding up the book.
But they were already gone, disappearing around the corner.
I decided to follow them, hoping they might lead me to the school's reception. As I turned the corner, I felt a shiver run down my spine. Brushing it off, I continued pursuit.
The double doors ahead of me were wide open, revealing what appeared to be the school's performance hall. But as I stepped inside, the scenery shifted. I found myself in a dimly lit corridor, the walls charred and blackened as if ravaged by a great fire. Broken tables, chairs, and scattered debris littered the hallway.
The air was heavy with the stench of death, and the constant sound of dripping water echoed through the corridor. I spun around, intent on leaving, but the entrance was gone. In its place stood another corridor, stretching out into darkness.
My heart racing, I wondered: Where was I? And where had Jayden and Nkosi disappeared to?