Dreams

I stood in front of my door as those nearby had left, one by one, until I was all alone. Anticipating what was to come, I grasped the discolored brass handle of the door and began to slowly turn the knob. The inside of my house was dark; all I could see was the light of the moon creating strands of beams that hit the floor and a silhouette of where I knew the furniture to be. I wasn’t scared.

I could feel the thin blade against my neck, and as I shifted my eyes slightly below the right of my neck, I could see the silver glistening in the moon. The blood leaking from my neck had begun to stain me, so I shut my eyes. Blackness. But I could still feel the thin razor being pressed deeper into my throat. When I knew it was time for me to die, I opened my eyes.

It was morning, and I had woken up.