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Setting: A decrepit one story shack made of wood that looks to have been built around the early 1900s, now missing beams and derelict due to age and years of weather. Weeds have grown about it eagerly, brambles and vines clustering along the edges to grow along the walls, and likely acting as pressure to keep the building together and standing. A lone window offers a bleak look at dirt floors, mouse droppings, dead insects, and cobwebs.
I stare at this bleak house, my two dogs bouncing around at my feet in the high grass. I can feel the tips of the grass brushing my knees as I walk through it. I tug the edges of my dress close to my legs in retaliation and call to my pups, trying to keep them safe and at hand. I know there's someone watching us, and I don't think they have good intent.
I urge my pets toward the building, finally picking them up to carry them inside. The threshold pushes at us, however, with this energy field that is adamant about keeping us out. I lean against it and press a hand to it, mindful not to drop my pets. We fall through. What we saw through the window is not what's actually inside.
The walls are trimmed with soft gold tones against pale rose walls, with ornately framed pictures of what I thought were actors from 20s and 30s. As I got closer, I realized these were gangsters dressed in prominent garments, male and female, and with a few holding weapons.
I can't say how I knew these pictures were alive, but I understood the spirits of those pictures now lived in the photos, and that they were watching me with great curiosity. My eyes traveled to the floor to see marked footsteps that indicated they should be used to lead to a closed door nearby. I stepped on the marked steps and followed them to the door, finally setting my dogs down, who looked more like white poodles with strange perms so that their fur stood in wild curls. I tried to remove the curls, thinking they were jackets, but my dogs ran away from me as soon as I made the first attempt. Forgetting about the door, I gave chase down a hallway, and knocked over a table laden with coins. The coins spilled across the floor with a great clatter.
It alerts someone within the building, who comes rushing up the stairs from that very door I had ignored. So my decision is to run in the other direction as swiftly as I can. My legs have become laden, so all I can do is struggle to run, finding that dread is overwhelming me the more I try running. They're at the door, I see a gun glinting. I know they will shoot to kill me.
My phone then clatters to the floor, waking me from the dream, while my legs are suddenly freed from the heavy weight of my pit mix pup who had used my head as a pillow while I slept.
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