Escaping the Abyss Part 7

Been a few months since I wrote another part to this ongoing mini series but here is another piece…

Nanku began having a dream nearly every night.

As he slept he dreamt that he was floating in the air. The clouds carried him weightlessly across the warm sky and he looked down on the peaceful world below and smiled feeling comfortable and safe. He watched the world lazily from above and saw soft green trees and calm rivers flowing to open oceans. He even closed his eyes and rested as he traveled slowly across the land.

Then a change in the wind pulled Nanku down like hands grabbing him with grips too tight on his limbs. He struggled to break free but was unable and continued to sink lower. He felt as though they were also stealing his breath as dread filled his lungs though he was unable to scream.

Suddenly, the hands released him and he plummeted towards the earth unable to slow himself or stop; no one there to help break his fall. Nanku’s eyes bulged from his head and his tongue swelled in his mouth as fear squeezed his heart.

Without warning, the hands gripped Nanku once more and his fall halted. The hands threw him across the sky like a leaf tumbling head over foot. Nanku’s arms and legs flailed about uncontrollably. It was as if the boy was in a whirlwind with the sky and ground spinning around him.

Again the arms grabbed him and held him tightly then again they released then caught him and repeated the process all over again. All the time Nanku could not scream but was enveloped in terror and felt as though he were dying from fright.

Faces appeared and laughed at his fear seeming to feed off his emotions. They cackled and howled as though at a grand party with Nanku as the entertainment. They were huge faces that morphed and shifted with the wind and followed the small boy while they toyed with him.

At last Nanku fell to the ground and in that instant he did he burst from his dream panting and sweating and began to sob as he curled into a ball to hold tight to his last bit of self. The rest had been stolen and chased from him.

Each night he had the dream it took a little longer to recover from the horror of the nightmare. He could not have known then that the dream would become a metaphor for his life.

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