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Down the Lonely Road of Snow

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I remember when the dreams started, the first one it was just me. It was night and I couldn't see far in front of me, and I wouldn't look behind me. All there was, was a long sidewalk with snow on either sides, my pace was slow and I would shiver often due to the cold and falling snow. And when I finally sensed dread, my mother woke me up to get ready for school, it stopped for about ten nights, then it happened again.

I was on the same lonely stretch of sidewalk, snow on either sides, it was the same all though I did hear it behind me that time. It wasn't a human thud, thud footsteps, it was not bipedal, it sounded more like pid pad, pid pad not hoofed, it was strange and I was about to look, but my mother woke me again. The dreams continued like this for a while. But then it got worse.

Everything was the same, over the course of time more footsteps had found their way behind me. The dream had seemed like it would play out the same, but of course, it didn't. I seemed to slow down as the dream went on, finally I stopped and stood there wanting to see what was behind me, but also not wanting to. I woke up and ran to the bathroom across the hall and barfed into the toilet, that dream was making me sick, literally.

I thought I was free of the dream, and I was. For a few years.

I was in college with my friends, there was a big test and I didn't have much sleep, and when I finally did, I knew the dream before it started. The same sidewalk, the same snow, the same dread. I didn't know until it happened, I turned around to see four pairs of icy blue eyes, starting at me, and one pair of glowing red eyes. I turned back and ran, I became dizzy and I couldn't see but I kept running, when I could see again, the snow was as red as the monster's eyes and the snow wasn't falling anymore, no. It was replaced by blood dripping down, it ran cold down my spine and I woke up in bed.

I smiled and giggled, I took a few stripes of cloth and carefully gagged my friends. I found a knife and I went up to my first friend and I stabbed her in the throat and pulled upwards, when she was dead I carefully carved embalms and symbols into her arms and when I was done I smiled and looked upon my artwork, it was sloppy and I did it again to my second friend, this time slicing an X into her stomach deeply, this time I took a pocket knife to do the designs and it turned out much better.

The third and last friend, was also my life long friend, I smiled and tied her down before waking her. She saw me smiling and holding the blood covered knife; I held the tip to her neck and sliced down her neck, down her chest, down the stomach. She died quickly and so I began carving, I carved symbols with my pocket knife and smiled and looked upon my masterpiece, I decided to number them on which I did first, to which I did last and smiled as I took more pocket knifes and pinned them up by their hands to the walls.

They caught me, not like I was hiding, they threw me in jail, but I only ate little bits and the rest of the time curled up into a little ball, smiled, and rocked back and forth. They decided to put me into a mental hospital instead. It was the same, one day I found something sharp and drove it into someone's back I didn't know who. But I immediately heard the sounds of a gun, click, click, BOOM I fell limp and woke up on the sidewalk, everything was normal, I still walk on the sidewalk, never looking back.

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