Darkness was all around me. It was comforting, but… painful. It greeted me as it stabbed me in the back. Every time I looked up into the white eyes and smile pain surged through my body. “How tragic! How tragic!” Its rusty voice echoed around the room as if there were no end to it. “Little boy is a baby! Little boy is crying! How tragic!” It screamed in my face. Finally it stopped and I was allowed to look it in the face, but it was all a blur. “Why does little boy no give in? No more tragic if he does… Little boy is idiot! Little boy does not deserve body! Me deserve body! Me! How tragic! How tragic!” It yelled one more time before my vision edged its way to blackness. I screamed and nearly jumped out of my bed when I returned to reality. I sat straight up in the bed with my hand gripping my face as if I needed some evidence to prove that all of it was just a nightmare. As I was trying to calm down my breathing I felt a slight pain coming from my back. I dropped the hand that had a death grip on my face and gently brushed my back, which caused me to hiss in pain. I could feel something wet on my fingers. The only thing that came into mind was blood. “Was that dream real?” I thought out of panic, but soon my other hand that had been helping to keep my body up proved me wrong. Another hiss of pain escaped my mouth as I paid my attention to my hand. In the darkness I could make out that it had brushed itself against the machete in my bed. I gave a blank stare at the machete as my brain tried to figure out this mystery. How did it get in my bed? I or even my family did not own a machete. After awhile of not getting an answer I carefully slipped out of the bed so that I did not disturb my four younger siblings, taking the machete with me so the same thing did not happen to them. It least it happened to me and not them. I lit the candle that rested by my nightstand on a candle stand with a tinderbox and used it to guide me to the kitchen. I set the candle and machete next to the basin of water that my sister Joy had fetched last night. Next, I took off my shirt to make the task easier. I used a cloth that was nearby and started to wash off the crimson liquid off of my back. Once I was sure I cleaned up my wounds I slipped my shirt back on and stare at the bloodied water. “It is still dark out. I will have to change the water later.” I decided. My attention was soon drawn to the weapon that had a drop of my blood on it. The question of how it got into the bed still echoed through my mind. I shrugged it off and picked up my light source and the machete. I made my way back to the bed that I shared with my siblings and placed the candle stand back were it belong on the nightstand. I decided to have the machete to lay next to it and took my place in the bed. I blew out the candle and slipped back into sleep, this time without any nightmares.
I screamed and nearly jumped out of my bed when I returned to reality. I sat straight up in the bed with my hand gripping my face as if I needed some evidence to prove that all of it was just a nightmare. As I was trying to calm down my breathing I felt a slight pain coming from my back. I dropped the hand that had a death grip on my face and gently brushed my back, which caused me to hiss in pain. I could feel something wet on my fingers. The only thing that came into mind was blood. “Was that dream real?” I thought out of panic, but soon my other hand that had been helping to keep my body up proved me wrong. Another hiss of pain escaped my mouth as I paid my attention to my hand. In the darkness I could make out that it had brushed itself against the machete in my bed. I gave a blank stare at the machete as my brain tried to figure out this mystery. How did it get in my bed? I or even my family did not own a machete.
After awhile of not getting an answer I carefully slipped out of the bed so that I did not disturb my four younger siblings, taking the machete with me so the same thing did not happen to them. It least it happened to me and not them. I lit the candle that rested by my nightstand on a candle stand with a tinderbox and used it to guide me to the kitchen. I set the candle and machete next to the basin of water that my sister Joy had fetched last night. Next, I took off my shirt to make the task easier. I used a cloth that was nearby and started to wash off the crimson liquid off of my back. Once I was sure I cleaned up my wounds I slipped my shirt back on and stare at the bloodied water. “It is still dark out. I will have to change the water later.” I decided. My attention was soon drawn to the weapon that had a drop of my blood on it. The question of how it got into the bed still echoed through my mind.
I shrugged it off and picked up my light source and the machete. I made my way back to the bed that I shared with my siblings and placed the candle stand back were it belong on the nightstand. I decided to have the machete to lay next to it and took my place in the bed. I blew out the candle and slipped back into sleep, this time without any nightmares.