Crimson Nightmare

  

  I was standing in a field of daisies with the wind blowing my soft brown hair in the wind.  I was clothed in a simple white dress that matched the field of daisies, and it flowed around me as I twirled and laughed in joy.  As I looked up from the magnificent field of flowers, I saw a girl.  She looked like a younger version of myself, and even had on the same white dress as me.  As I ventured closer to the young girl, a bloom of crimson appeared on the girl’s chest.  It increased in size, expanding until there was not one spot of white left on the front of the girl’s chest.  Right before my eyes, I watched horrific bruises appear on the girl’s face, arms, and neck.  Her once beautiful white dress became ragged as if a chainsaw were allowed free reign on it.  Her skin had been clearly ripped off or badly burned where the dress had been torn away.  I wanted to avert my eyes from the ghastly scene, but something kept my eyes locked on the little girl’s.  Her eyes were not open wide in burning agony, but filled with a fiery hate that could stop a heart.  The little girl looked back up at me, right in the eye, and smiled.

***

 

     I woke from the nightmare in a cold sweat.  My white sheets had become tangled with my legs, and my body was contorted in an interesting manner.  I was trembling, and tears of pure fear leaked out of my now fully awake eyes.  I was just about to turn on the lamp beside my bed, when I saw a figure out of the corner of my eye.  Someone was standing at the edge of my bed, watching me.  I could feel my hand trembling as I found the switch to my lamp, and turned it on.  The little girl from my nightmare was standing at my bedside.  Time seemed to slow down as she extended her hand out towards me.  Crimson blood dripped from her perfect porcelain fingers, and splattered onto my white bedspread.  It looked as if a small heart lie underneath my comforter, slowly bleeding its life away.  Then I saw something around her wrist that caught my attention.  It was a bracelet, my mother’s bracelet.  It had been years since I had seen that bracelet.  Against her bloodied skin, the shiny silver looked brand new.  Suddenly, my bedroom door was thrown open, and my mother appeared in the doorway.  Her face was taunt with fright.  “I thought that I heard you call...” she breathed.  Her voice died as soon as her eyes fell upon the little girl standing at my bedside.  My mother's eyes widened as she stared at the ragged girl.  A thin line of sweat began to trickle down her forehead, and her breathing became rapid.  There was something off about her expression, though.  I could There was none of the fear that I had first felt at first seeing the horrendous little girl in her expression.  Instead, anxiety was etched into her expression.  Despite my incessant terror, I forced myself to look at the little girl.  She was a younger version of myself, the bloodstains slightly concealing  a birthmark on her cheek that has been known to run in our family.  Then there was my mother's bracelet.  Its alluring shine heavily contrasted with the girl's bloodstained dress.  "Mom?" I asked, "What is going?"  The little girl smiled.