Ten Tapes

They wake up: The eight of them. Eight friends; two couples, three guys and a girl. All 17-22 years old. Their are no doors, no windows, no hatches no trapdoors or any such simple trickery. Naivety and "reasoning" would tell them it's a dream, a hallucination, an acid trip. It's not. In the centre of the room there is a large television set with a VCR recorder and ten tapes...

Chris sat silently amongst the gently dreaming corpses dimmed in the absence of anything but a dimly lit bulb. She lay furthest away which was ironic really.

His sky blue eyes - pupils huge from the darkness - swung back and forth to the far right and left corners like a pair of pendulums moving to a wild and panicked rhythm. Though not too panicked: Reason crept forwards in his mind like a comforting spider,

"It's a dream." It whispered, "Maybe that was too much?" It asked, "You have been feeling peaky, Chris." And it was right; Chris had been feeling sleepy, he probably had overdone it... Yeah, he'd just wait to wake up. If only everything didn't seem so vivid and alive and real.

Chris laid a hand on the cheek of the shrouded figure nearest to him, it's warmth was like an explosion of reality that spiked within his chest. He reeled back, cocked an eye brow and felt again,




The End

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