@SpookyJim
So I've been working on something for the past few hours, and I'd like some feedback on it. Here it is.
Some of us remember our dreams, some don’t. I can only remember a few of my dreams from when I was younger, but one stands out to me the most.
I was around 11, I think, when I first had this dream.
How I got there changed, but the destination was always the same. Ruined and crumbling stone walls, remnants of the past doomed to remain only in my subconscious. It was dark, as it always was when I got closer.
I could never see myself in these; it was like looking through a screen or playing a video game in first person.
There’s always a sort of gloom when you see it, an ambiance that can never quite be described. As for the “it”, well– That I could describe.
It was a furnace, not one for cooking, not even a modern cremation furnace. No, this was different. Older, somehow. It was concrete and stone, cobble to be specific, shrouded like the rest of the scene in dark blue winter shadows.
All at once, I was inside.
The scent of burnt meat and wood singed my nostrils. I was crawling through ash, old ash, so gray it was almost black like chimney soot. Whispers of foreign voices danced through my ears, making my unseen skin crawl.
I hated this part.
The scent had turned to stench and the shadows grew deeper in their darkness. How long had I been crawling through this?
The furnace was too narrow for me to look back, let alone turn around. Something, some unseen force, wouldn’t let me back out.
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