Prologue: Tom

This is the prologue for the current draft of my horror novel "...nice dream". I am concentrating on other works so this will not be out for some time, but any new chapters will be posted to my Wattpad as well.

For a moment, Tom was lost.

The music was up too loud, the lights were too dim, and there were far too many people dancing sporadically – and for the most part, badly – for him to be anywhere near close to comfortable. This general disorientation did not mix well with the not insignificant amount of alcohol had had consumed, and he was now beginning to feel everything around him blur into everything else, the party becoming an incomprehensible blur of colours, lights, sounds and people. Around him people kept on dancing, apparently completely unconcerned with the fact that Tom didn’t look like he could stand up straight for too much longer. Part of him wasn’t particularly worried about that right now. There was something more important to him at that moment, something that was more important to him than anything else in the world.

Sarah wasn’t here yet.

Tom didn’t understand it. Sarah was supposed to have arrived ninety minutes ago – by his boozy estimation from looking at the oven clock in Aiden’s kitchen, anyway – but as of that moment, there still wasn’t a sign of her, and Tom was beginning to compile a list of reasons she may not have shown up yet.

Maybe traffic’s a bitch out there right now.

That wouldn’t hold someone up for that long though.

Would it?

A few other thoughts meandered their way through Tom’s head before one occurred to him, one that would solve the mystery entirely.

Tom was going to check his phone.

This momentous decision made, Tom reached into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out his reliable Android – if I hear one more dickhead roast me for not buying the new iPhone whatever the fuck, Ima shove their phone up their asshole – and pressed the button on the side to power up the screen, squinting at the jumble of lights in hopes that they would resolve themselves into something meaningful. He squinted down at his phone for a solid ten seconds before words resolved themselves, words he found did nothing to abate his concern.

Sarah 30 min

i dont think i can do this…

The rest of the message was cut off, and Tom knew to read the rest of the message he would first have to unlock his phone. As he struggled to, he found that his concern for his best friend was only growing.

What’s going on, Sarah? Are you OK? Oh, Jesus Christ…

***

“Tom!”

Tom snapped out of his trance, and he realised he must have trailed off, allowing memories of recent events to fog up his mind. He looked over at his friend Kevin, who was surveying him with a look of mild concern. Tom quickly began the process of brushing this concern off, putting on a mildly embarrassed smile.

“Sorry,” he said, “Lost in thought.”

As Kevin accepted this statement Tom found that the memory he’d been lost in was slipping away, and within seconds he couldn’t even remember what had been occupying his mind so.

Something about a party? I dunno.

Whatever it was, Tom didn’t have time to dwell on it. Kevin was already standing up from the bench that they were sitting at, and that was a fair indicator to Tom that the two of them had about five minutes to get to their next lectures before they were in deep trouble. Most of the professors at their university didn’t care enough to take attendance for their lectures, but Kevin’s first-year Physics course and Tom’s computational physics profs certainly did. Luckily the two of them had their respective classes in the same building, so they were able to walk together, keeping a brisk pace as they walked through the campus.

As Tom looked around he regretted having to rush the journey – it was an unusually nice day for the time of year, and the sun felt good on his face as it warmed the ground from the months of winter that had just passed. Around them students walked up and down the pathways that made their way around the campus, either heading to classes, from classes or just wandering, soaking in the warm air and chatting to their friends about their lives. The more Tom walked the more he found a feeling of fatigue falling about his shoulders, and he let out a breath of exhaustion. For a moment he realised he couldn’t even remember what classes he’d had already that day – he must have been really tired.

“God, I want to go to sleep,” he said, “Today’s been rough.”

Kevin nodded in agreement. “Heard that. After your comp physics class, do you have anything else today?”

Tom blew out his cheeks. “This one, then Chemistry at two thirty. I’m pretty sure I’m gonna fail that one.”

Kevin chuckled by way of agreement. “I’m so glad I don’t have to deal with Chemistry anymore. Got that shit out of the way first year.”

“Lucky fucker,” Tom snorted.

“Hehe.” Kevin brushed something off his shoulder. “Wasn’t a walk in the park though. My prof for it was so boring.” He elongated the word ‘so’ for dramatic effect.

“Carruthers isn’t exactly Brad Pitt either,” Tom admitted, “Jesus Christ, you’d think they would teach profs how to teach sometime.”

“Most of them don’t want to teach,” Kevin said, “That’s what I heard. Some of them have to if they want to get their papers done and shit like that.”

Tom wasn’t certain about the veracity of this claim, but he decided to accept it – after all, there had to be a reason some of his instructors were so boring.

“Oh, by the way,” Kevin said, “You coming to Jack’s party tomorrow night? It’s sure to be a banger.”

By now the two were walking through the halls of the Physics building, their footsteps echoing through the largely polished stone interior that often put Tom in mind of old mausoleums. He had no memory of actually entering the building, but he chalked this up to his lack of observational skills – many a time did he go into ‘autopilot’, walking to destinations without ever really looking up at his surroundings.

“Oh hell yeah,” he said, nodding his head excitedly. Kevin’s parties were always good ones. “God knows I need a drink after this week. Shit’s been tough.”

“You do know you can buy booze down the liquor store, right?”

Tom shook his head. “Didn’t get paid till this morning. Haven’t had a drink all week.”

Kevin nodded in understanding. “Ah. Know if Sarah’s coming?

Tom opened his mouth to answer, but for a second he found he was unable to answer. For the briefest moment he felt a terrible sadness take control of him, one he couldn’t make sense of. He was terribly depressed, he was sure of that much, but for what reason, he had no idea. However, the more he tried to latch onto that sadness and interrogate it, the more he realised it was slipping away, passing from his conscious mind and into the nether, disappearing entirely. He frowned to himself, trying to put the sequence of thoughts back together in his mind, but he found he couldn’t do it. He then looked back at Kevin, then realised he was still expecting an answer to his question.

“Dunno,” Tom said, “I’ve asked her, but I think she’s got her own thing going on.”

Kevin shrugged. “Well let me know if she is coming. I really liked having her at the last one. She’s really nice.” He leaned in conspiratorially. “You asked her out yet?”

Tom rolled his eyes at the not so subtle dig. As long as he could remember, everyone had assumed that he and Sarah were wildly in love with each other, simply because they were the closest of friends. “Piss off,” he suggested.

Kevin chuckled. “Just kiddin’, man.”

As Kevin said this the two arrived at a door, one that led to one of the smaller lecture rooms in the Physics building. Tom stopped at the door, recognising it as the room his next class was in.

“This is me,” he said.

Kevin nodded – he and Tom had done this walk many times, so he was well aware of where Tom left the walk to his class. “Tight,” he said, “See ya after class, eh?”

Tom gave a thumbs up in response, and he watched as Kevin walked away, whistling a tune he couldn’t quite place. He then turned and entered the lecture hall, a minor weight settling over his shoulders as he did.

Ah, shit. Here we go again.

Tom walked through the rows of desks up to the back of the room, heading to a seat in the middle of the room. He sat down at what he considered to be ‘his’ desk, glad that nobody had taken it – it always through him when someone sat in ‘his’ spot. He opened his backpack and pulled out some paper, then reached into his pocket to produce his favourite pen. It wasn’t any less cheap than any other ballpoint pen on the market, but Tom always preferred it due to the fact that it flowed much better than any other pen he’d tried writing with. As he got his papers ready to go he noticed that the professor had walked in, and he knew the class was seconds away from starting.

Good. Let’s get this done.

Out of the corner of his eye he was aware that the other students in the class weren’t chatting amongst themselves, not even so much as a whisper to be heard. Instead they were simply staring forwards, their faces almost entirely blank and their hands hovering over their papers, pen in hand. To Tom it was almost like the room was filled with automatons, all designed to look as human as possible.

Bullshit, Tom thought to himself, they’re just paying attention. You’ve been watching too many movies.

Something in him wasn’t quite so sure.

The professor began the lecture, and Tom began copying down anything that sounded important – he didn’t want to fill his paper with the entire lecture. He looked up from his paper briefly and saw that the prof was drawing a diagram on the whiteboard, and Tom made a note to copy that down as well, as it looked pretty important to him. Part of him wondered what importance diagrams had in a course where they were predominately learning how to write computer code, but he decided not to question it – perhaps it was simply the expected result of a code they would soon have to write. He looked back up at the whiteboard to make sure he got it right, then he frowned.

The diagram on the board had completely changed shape. It wasn’t just that the prof had erased a line here or there to correct a mistake – it was a completely different diagram.

What the hell?

Tom looked down at his paper, and he found that the notes he’d copied down were now complete nonsense, simply a series of words and scribbles, often repeating and looping over and over again. Of the diagram he had begun drawing, there was no sign.

Tom looked back up at the whiteboard, and found that the writing had changed yet again, the diagram now also completely absent from the board as well. He looked over to the professor, ready to excuse himself from class on account of illness – he was now certain he was over tired, and just needed to lie down for a moment.

However, the professor was already looking at him.

Staring, in fact, with a gaze that seemed to pierce straight through Tom and look into his very soul.

“Thomas,” he said.

Tom stared forward at his professor, not daring to break eye contact with him. Around him he was aware that his classmates were no longer staring at the whiteboard, their laser-like gaze now turned on him, their faces still entirely blank. In Tom’s mind, some of his classmates at the very edge of his peripheral vision didn’t seem to even have a face, a flesh-coloured expanse where their defining features should be – but he didn’t dare look at them to find out if this was truly the case.

Tom swallowed, realising he was now beginning to get scared, and he tried to meet his professor’s gaze. “Yes?” he said weakly.

The professor’s face didn’t change, his stare staying even. Without breaking eye contact he pointed to his left, to a door Tom had somehow never noticed on the opposite side of the lecture room from which he’d come in.

“Someone wants to talk to you,” he said. His voice was now completely monotone, and Tom could almost swear his voice had also changed, becoming less human and more… something else.

Tom wasn’t sure what to do, but he figured it was probably best to do as the professor had told him. He slid out of the chair carefully and began to step towards the front of the room, his hands shaking as fear began to claw at his throat. Around him, his classmates watched him go, their gaze never breaking away from him as if they were cats watching a particularly feisty rodent.

This can’t be real this can’t be real this can’t be real

As Tom approached the new door he realised it was slightly ajar, and he pushed his way through it to find a corridor, one that looked like it better belonged in the basement of the building rather than the first floor. The ceiling was low and decked out with fluorescent lights that were dim and worn out, and the walls were a deep grey cement that seemed to soak up what little light the ceiling fixtures emitted. Pipes that Tom presumed to be part of the air conditioning hung from the ceiling, making the already cramped space appear even more claustrophobic. At the end of the corridor stood a shape, but the light was too dim down there for Tom to make out what it was exactly.

Tom looked behind him and realised that the door he had passed through was now closed, and somehow he knew it had been locked behind him. He looked back down the corridor and found his eyes were beginning to adjust to the poor lighting, and he was now able to discern the shape that was standing at the other end.

She wore a white dress – a simple piece of clothing, no frills or anything. Her dark hair was matted, as if she’d just come out of a bath, and she was looking down, allowing shadow to fall over her eyes, hiding them from Tom’s vision. However he didn’t need to see her eyes to recognise her, and when he did he quickly began approaching her, his apprehension melting away to become relief.

“Sarah!” Tom cried, “Thank God it’s you. What are you doing here?”

Sarah looked up slightly to see Tom approaching her, but her eyes were still obscured by shadow. Her face was one of confusion, as if she had no idea where she was. As Tom got closer he noticed twin scars that ran down her arms, scars that looked relatively fresh – no older than a fortnight.

“Tom?” Sarah said. Her voice was quiet and distant, as if it were coming from miles away. “Are you there?”

Tom nodded as he got within arm’s reach of his friend. “It’s me. I’m here.”

Sarah was now frowning. “I got so lost,” she said, “I… I was so scared. And alone.”

Part of Tom was confused by Sarah’s words. To him she sounded helpless and frightened, so much like a character lifted from the cheap pulp fictions he would see at the local grocery store. But the part of him that realised this was small, insignificant to his primary urge, which was to hug his best friend in a reassuring manner.

“It’s OK,” he found himself saying, “I’m here now.”

“Too late.”

Sarah’s voice had changed. It was no longer that of a helpless girl. Now, she sounded angry.

Schlock.

Tom felt an explosion of pain in his back, and he knew even before he pulled away from Sarah that there was a knife in his back. Somehow he could almost see it, a large kitchen knife like the ones he’d seen his parents use to carve a turkey at Christmas. He slowly backed away from Sarah, and now he realised he could see her eyes.

Whilst they were indeed her blue eyes, they were now faded and dull, the pupils grey with cataracts. They looked less like eyes and more like marbles, glassy balls that stared vacantly through Tom. Her face was twisted with hate, a rage that almost threatened to pull itself off of her and manifest itself physically. Her dress was now also soaked, like her hair, and stained with dry brown patches that Tom immediately knew to be blood. The scars on her arms were open gashes now, and blood was pouring from them, dripping from her fingers onto the floor below.

Tom could feel blood pouring from the new wound on his back, but the knife kept the worst of it in – he knew if he removed it he would likely bleed out right then and there. The pain was now unbearable, and he crumpled to his knees, letting out a scream that started in his throat and echoed through the cramped corridor.

Around him the walls seemed to be fading, melting away into a void of nothingness. He could hardly focus on Sarah now, who was advancing on him, looking down at him with her glassy eyes and a face that was deeply accusing. She knelt down in front of him and met his gaze, and Tom stared into her dead eyes, finding nothing beyond them except her anger and resentment.

“You should have been there for me,” she growled.

Before Tom could open his mouth to protest Sarah began to scream in his face, but it wasn’t an ordinary scream. Instead it was mechanical, like if the high-pitched whine of an old cathode-tube TV was amplified to deafening levels. As Sarah screamed she raised another knife, just like the one in Tom’s back, and he knew with absolute certainty that this one was going straight into his heart.

“Sarah, please!” Tom screamed.

Sarah raised her knife.

And then there was another sound.

A loud, almost violent beeping sound that cut through everything else and made everything go away.

***

Tom’s eyes opened, and he felt a jolt run through his body as he awoke.

For the shortest of moments he was confused, the delirium from the abrupt shift from sleep to consciousness addling his mind. However, within a moment he knew exactly where he was.

He was in his bed, in his apartment.

It was seven in the morning.

And his alarm was still beeping at him.

Tom reached for his bedside table and picked up his phone, swiping the screen to shut the alarm up. The phone obeyed his command, and the beeping noise ceased, leaving the room in almost complete silence, save for the quiet whirring of the fan that sat next to his bed. Tom rolled over onto his back and stared at the ceiling, collecting himself from the nightmare he’d had.

It was OK.

It had just been a dream.

There was no knife in his back.

And Sarah…

Oh, God.

Tom felt a violent wave of sadness crash over him as the memories of the past fortnight all flooded back into his mind simultaneously. More than anything he didn’t want to do anything now. All he wanted to do was lie in his bed all day and cry, to feel the anguish that clawed at his heart. But he knew he couldn’t. He knew he had to get out of bed and face the world beyond, no matter how cruel it was.

More than anything he had wished that this was the dream, that everything out there wasn’t real.

But there was no such luck.

Sarah was still dead.

And Tom knew that there was nothing that could possibly ever change that.