I stood in the dark, listening, and trying to make sense of the shadows. Needles of frost crunched underfoot, snapping at my ears as I sidestepped to the window. I was vaguely aware of the rich display of white, glowing in the darkness, all brushed with thick red and black paint.
Outside, the sleet hissed and spattered against the glass, oddly comforting. It was only when I stepped back that I noticed how cold it was. My eyes were wide, trying to make sense of the shadows. All I could make out was a shape as the door to my bedroom swung on its hinges and then was flung inward. It slammed against the wall, held there by the pressure of the fire extinguisher. The sound bounced throughout the small room, whipping my attention to the intruder. I stepped back, full into my own door, and pushed my back into it as I pushed out my hand. My fingers snaked around it, panting in the cold as I tugged it toward me. Then I wished I hadn't as it gained momentum and clattered into the room with an echoing bang.
"Who. . .who are you?" I forced myself to ask, even though it came out as a mutter. My legs felt weak, my mouth wrong. It felt funny, and I felt funny.
No response, just the clatter of footsteps and the scraping wood across floorboards. The cold was reaching a fever pitch and I felt a shiver roll down my back as I hugged myself. The air was filled with the sweet tang of fire, and I tried to make out the massive form that loomed over me. My heart hammered in my chest, the sound an old, familiar rhythm. The shadows danced everywhere, clinging to everything.
It was a dream. It was a nightmare. I was in a dream. This was a nightmare. I wanted to scream, but my throat wouldn't let me. I was frozen, helpless. I was scared, and that was all that mattered.
A flash of light lit up the room, followed by a deep thunderclap. There was a sigh, a little whistle of breath, and then I felt a gust of air before I saw three figures silhouetted against the window. My head swam. They were carrying a stretcher. I watched as they dropped it against the far wall, the metal clanging on the bare wood.
One of the figures turned, and the light from the window hit his glasses. I caught a glimpse of his pupils before they screwed into the darkness. To this day, I have no idea why they did that. All I have is that image, and the question of whether they were trying to see me, or just flaring in the dark.
