Alex Browning managed to drag his head up from the comfort of the pillow below him. Opening sleep crusted eyes and rubbing his hands over his face in an effort to warm it, he looked around the room in confusion. This specific room was alien to him, but so had all the others in the last few weeks. Glancing around for anyone he knew, he soon realized that he was alone. Not good. He hated being alone, especially after what had happened only a few days earlier to Sam Washer. Poor guy never saw that damn bi-plane coming...well, neither did anyone else. Sighing to himself and throwing his legs over the matress in the cold, dark room, he noticed that the carpet was plush...very plush. Taking a startled glance again around the room, he noticed an ornate victorian mirror hanging above a massive oak dresser, upon which stood two very old looking brass lamps, gleaming in their own luminescence. Standing up slowly, he turned and looked at the bed behind him. It was lavishly dressed in dark curtains, oak wood beams and stands, and a very plush king size matress.
'Oh no' he thought, the words seeming to ring through the room as if spoken loudly, 'not this dream again'. It had been weeks since Alex had dreamed about the room where his fiance Marilyn had died so many months ago. They had been happy, boistrous, even naive in their love. They had rented a room in the most luxurious hotel in the tiny town of Redlands, California, at a very fair price of six undred a night, considering the room size. They had made love almost all night, only stopping to breath and eat, tearing the bed to shreds in their passion. However, the next day would not be as happy. Awaking groggy and more than a little sore, Alex had reached for her, running his hands along her cold side...cold? No, that wasn't right...why would she be cold? He had bolted upright in the bed, looking at her face...where it should have been, at any rate. For some reason, a tall, oval shaped mirror close to the bed had shattered and fallen on the large bed, a large chunk slicing her neck cleanly and quickly. He had been sleeping to well to notice the blood flowing into his side of the bed, but he now realized the stiffness with which his bedclothes clung to his body.
Looking down, he almost vomited as he saw that the entire bed was drenched, still squishing sickeningly, in her life essence. That had been the most terrifying and motionally draining experience of his life...at that time, anyway. Too bad he didn't know then what he knew now...that his friends, his closest family members, even his college teachers and his pets, would all soon die tragic, almost impossible deaths at the icy hands of a sadistic, twisted, evil and malevolent force known as Death. He hadn't seen it, hadn't heard it, but he had felt its presence after the loss of his...of Marilyn. Ever since then, he had been running from it, finding others that had suffered similar bizarre and horrifying experiences and befriending them, ever convinced that as long as they stuck together, as long as they watched each others backs, they would survive.
It turned out, though, that not all backs could be watched. Four of the twenty people he had met and traveled with so far had 'bit it', as Sam was so keen on saying before he himself was taken in a tragic, unbelievable freak storm. And now, after all this time, the dream...the God-awful, horrifying, never-ending pain filled dream of the night that Marylin had died, was back, almost as a warning...He had to wake up, had to escape, before it managed to finish itself. Glancing around furtively, Alex noticed a door creaking slightly on old brass hinges...why had that never been there before? Perhaps, in his desire to escape, his subconscious had created an available exit for him? Shrugging, he walked over to the door and pushed it open slowly, the creaking, grinding hinges pushing back in protest. There, only five feet from the threshold, was...the bedroom. Glancing behind him, he was astonished to find himself in the bathroom, water running in the shower and blood on the floor.
He suddenly realized that he was feeling pain, and he looked down at his throbbing hand, the knuckles bleeding badly, chunks of glass sticking out of the flesh and bone. Looking up, he caught staggered reflections of himself in the now shattered mirror, which he apparently had punched without remembering. Just then, as he was about to pass out from the blood he had not realized he had been steadily oozing, Morgan Reilley dashed in, catching Alex as he slumped to the floor. Alex barely heard Morgan calling his name, yelling from far away for him to hang in there, that help was coming, that he would be okay. Alex could only nod, whimpering slightly in an attempt to speak. Then, darkness took him, and he was awoken then next instant by a doctor in a sky blue uniform standing over him, grinning grimly.
'Oh no' he thought, the words seeming to ring through the room as if spoken loudly, 'not this dream again'. It had been weeks since Alex had dreamed about the room where his fiance Marilyn had died so many months ago. They had been happy, boistrous, even naive in their love. They had rented a room in the most luxurious hotel in the tiny town of Redlands, California, at a very fair price of six undred a night, considering the room size. They had made love almost all night, only stopping to breath and eat, tearing the bed to shreds in their passion. However, the next day would not be as happy. Awaking groggy and more than a little sore, Alex had reached for her, running his hands along her cold side...cold? No, that wasn't right...why would she be cold? He had bolted upright in the bed, looking at her face...where it should have been, at any rate. For some reason, a tall, oval shaped mirror close to the bed had shattered and fallen on the large bed, a large chunk slicing her neck cleanly and quickly. He had been sleeping to well to notice the blood flowing into his side of the bed, but he now realized the stiffness with which his bedclothes clung to his body.
Looking down, he almost vomited as he saw that the entire bed was drenched, still squishing sickeningly, in her life essence. That had been the most terrifying and motionally draining experience of his life...at that time, anyway. Too bad he didn't know then what he knew now...that his friends, his closest family members, even his college teachers and his pets, would all soon die tragic, almost impossible deaths at the icy hands of a sadistic, twisted, evil and malevolent force known as Death. He hadn't seen it, hadn't heard it, but he had felt its presence after the loss of his...of Marilyn. Ever since then, he had been running from it, finding others that had suffered similar bizarre and horrifying experiences and befriending them, ever convinced that as long as they stuck together, as long as they watched each others backs, they would survive.
It turned out, though, that not all backs could be watched. Four of the twenty people he had met and traveled with so far had 'bit it', as Sam was so keen on saying before he himself was taken in a tragic, unbelievable freak storm. And now, after all this time, the dream...the God-awful, horrifying, never-ending pain filled dream of the night that Marylin had died, was back, almost as a warning...He had to wake up, had to escape, before it managed to finish itself. Glancing around furtively, Alex noticed a door creaking slightly on old brass hinges...why had that never been there before? Perhaps, in his desire to escape, his subconscious had created an available exit for him? Shrugging, he walked over to the door and pushed it open slowly, the creaking, grinding hinges pushing back in protest. There, only five feet from the threshold, was...the bedroom. Glancing behind him, he was astonished to find himself in the bathroom, water running in the shower and blood on the floor.
He suddenly realized that he was feeling pain, and he looked down at his throbbing hand, the knuckles bleeding badly, chunks of glass sticking out of the flesh and bone. Looking up, he caught staggered reflections of himself in the now shattered mirror, which he apparently had punched without remembering. Just then, as he was about to pass out from the blood he had not realized he had been steadily oozing, Morgan Reilley dashed in, catching Alex as he slumped to the floor. Alex barely heard Morgan calling his name, yelling from far away for him to hang in there, that help was coming, that he would be okay. Alex could only nod, whimpering slightly in an attempt to speak. Then, darkness took him, and he was awoken then next instant by a doctor in a sky blue uniform standing over him, grinning grimly.