Parts Dirty Immigrant Storyteller

A Nightmare

The night before we left for The Wild and Wonderful City, I had one of the most vivid nightmares I’d had since coming to this country. All the stress from moving to another strange place did not help. I was homesick and wanted to be around people from my island simply because I knew only they would understand the images in my head. I was restless that night but somehow fell asleep.

I walked into the concrete building. My legs were shaking so hard I stumbled and almost fell. Smoke filled the room, causing my eyes to sting. Gunshots and explosions rocked the structure as the battle raged outside. Tears rolled down my face and I wiped my eyes with my fingers, but that made them burn even more. I walked further into the room, my chest burning, my skin tingling. I thought I saw someone move and I almost fainted with fear. Suddenly, it was quiet, and I heard myself breathing, the sound echoing in my head. I thought I saw someone move again, so I stopped and looked around. I took a step, my boots sliding on the floor. I thought I had stepped on a rock so I bent over and picked it up. I almost passed out when I realized I had picked up a severed finger and immediately froze as a cold breeze whipped through the room, clearing the smoke. I looked around the room, my vision still blurred. Body parts covered the walls of the room; fingers, toes and raw flesh dripped off of the ceilings. There was a body laying against the wall in a corner, the young man holding his stomach. Its contents spilled out, some of it lying on his lap. In the mush of flesh lying on the ground, I saw boot prints made by retreating soldiers. The walls were crying, blood draining onto the floor.

The stench of blood and rotting flesh burned my nostrils as hundreds of flies buzzed around, the sound resonating in my mind. Rats scurried around my feet. Some stopped to bite at my boots, so I took a step, trying to get away from them, but only managed to slip and fall. The rats scattered in every direction, snarling as if infected by rabies. I lay there for a second, blood and pieces of mashed flesh soaked into my shirt. I pushed myself up with my hands, worms crawling up my arms. My hands slipped and I landed face first into the mess. The rats were not affected by the commotion I made; they were too busy feasting on the body parts.

I got to my feet just as a group of soldiers charged into the room shooting, so I dove to the floor trying to avoid being shot. A soldier fell next to me, a gaping hole where his nose used to be. Blood squirted out of the wound, landing on my face. It was warm and tasted salty. I sprung to my feet and began running. I did not care where I was going; I just wanted to escape. I saw a wall in front of me and tried to stop, but the floor was too slick. Just before impact, a dark hole appeared and I fell through. There was no light at the bottom; it was so peaceful.

By Bombastic Nation

Me name is Anderson A Charles. I am a writer story teller and Podcaster, the original Steve urkel, yes I did that. Also played basketball in college ( that's because I am seven feet tall.

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