Shirley has always had a nervous disposition, but trying to be brave isn't always easy... especially when you don't have a duvet to hide under...
Running. Running at full speed. Escaping. Escaping from death, from everything I have ever feared.
A cheetah. I am running as fast as a hunter; a hunter stalking its pray.
I'm the pray. It's after me, you silly cow. Running? No. Waddling is more accurate. If you don't run faster you are gonna die!
Dammit! What is it with me and negativity? I WILL escape. I WILL run faster. Like a cheetah.
My legs tore down the hard dry grass that resisted against my pounding feet. My muscles protested as a red hot pain flared through them like a wave. A wave of agony.
I dared to glance behind me, stare my assailant in the face for a second as I bricked it down the hill like Forrest Gump with ants in his pants. In that second all I could see was the dark velvet sky and the air emitted from my feet of fury. No zombie, no crazed man with a gun, just-
Water. I was surrounded by water. A small stumble led me to a sea of cold water. I knew I should've gone to Specsavers but there was no water in sight!
I kicked furiously, dragging my weight through the dampness of the water which seemed to be growing ever stronger, until I realised I wasn't going anywhere. I was running out of air. Pulling and struggling, I reached out desperately for the surface, but it was as if someone or something wad holding me down.
I looked down, and saw a face. The face of hell. And it was staring at me in the face.
Well it was probably staring at my feet, but either way, it made the Exorcist look like a supermodel. The scream that I hoped would gain attention was an epic fail as I forgot about the water that filled my lungs with ice.
Dying. I was dying. Dying and sinking. Being dragged to hell. My last vision alive was the dark thick water and my escort to hell.
False alarm. I woke with my face buried in my pillow, which was suffocating me. I was also wet. Sweat or urine I do not know, but my heart and stomach were in my mouth and I knew that my Frosties cereal would have to wait another day.
Drying my face with a towel, I thought my torment was over- until my older brother Bill burst in.
A mischievous smile faltered on his lips. He saw me jump, the bastard, and he knew that another nightmare had deprived me of sleep.
"Sleepy, Shirley Wirly?" he mocked as he rubbed my wet strawberry blonde hair, which had no doubt frizzed up in my sleep.
Ignoring him, I resumed my drying off, and thought over what was playing with my mind.
And then I saw it. The face from my dream.