Hazel POV

　　'Where am I?'

　　As soon as my eyes land upon the ground, I see something red. It doesn't look like any soil texture I am familiar with. I bend down and touch it with my hands. It ... it is no soil. It is wet and it looks and feels like … like blood.

　　"No … No … No …" I immediately get up and take my hand back. Rubbing the now blood-covered hand with my back, I turn around and start to run.

　　As I am running, my gaze keeps falling on the ground.

　　"Please don't be red … Please don't be red."

　　I feel icky. I don't know to whom the blood belongs to or to how many of those species. But it doesn't stop—no matter how far I go—it's still there.

　　I bend down taking the support of my knees and look around. I notice that no one is here, except me. No humans, no animals, no birds, no trees. Nothing.

　　"Argh…" I pull my hair in frustration, and my hand touches something wet. A small drop flows on my face, traveling from my forehead down to my nose, and then reaching my lips.

　　'No … No … No … it can't be.'

　　I slowly bring the hand in front of my eyes, and I see the same red liquid.

　　Blood!

　　A scream escapes my mouth as I feel my head hurting like someone has hit it hard.

　　The sound of my scream is pushed down by the sound of hundreds of screams.

　　I raise my head. I am surrounded by thousands of people. They're either hurt, injured, or—dead!

　　The ones who are alive are crying and sobbing with what they have left. Their bloodshot eyes filled with dread send shivers down my spine.

　　They are not scared of what came, but of what is yet to come.

　　"What the..."

　　It is then that I notice that they don't look like me - they don't have two hands, or two legs, or a face. All I see are their eyes.

　　They are completely different than any ordinary human, and yet I could feel the fear inside them.

　　I am lost in a dilemma, should I go over and ask them? or should I just stay, and wait for what is going to come?

　　'How did I get here, why am I here?'

　　I think  I shouldn't wait. Something inside me tells me not to.

　　I drag my sore legs toward them. I try not to make any noise as I approach them with caution. They are already hurt and scared, and I don't want them to be in more pain.

　　They might not be humans, but they are alive. And they should stay alive.

　　I take a pause—until its gaze meets me. It shivers and moves a little back; I guess from not being able to recognize me.

　　"Who are you?" I ask, but it doesn't reply; it just keeps staring at me.

　　"You shouldn't be here," it finally says. The others have noticed our conversation and started gathering near it.

　　"What is going on?" I ask again to get some answers.

　　"You shouldn't be here! He will come … He will come and kill us all!"

　　'Someone is coming to kill them all?'

　　"I-I d-don't … I don't understand … who will kill us and why?" My voice shivers, and I notice his pupil slightly expanding. He keeps shifting his eye from his peers to me. After a long silence, he responds to me.

　　"Not you, but us. His army is already towering us. All of us are going to die," he says. His eye turns toward others, and he starts screaming again.

　　My mind is full of questions and I am about to ask it more, when the sudden rumble of thunder shakes my body completely.

　　I stumble back a few steps with the outburst of the piercing screech around me.

　　"Go away ... go away ..." Their wailing becomes more desperate. I don't feel anger in their voice; they're just scared...scared for me.

　　The sudden strain on my eyes makes me look up, and that is when I see the sky. Never in my life, have I witnessed anything like this. My lips part as the words die on my tongue. The view, like a painting taken by a grand master, puts "vanilla sky" to shame. As I blink my eyes, it changes color from calming white to glazing yellow. The yellow then turns into a scorching orange. I feel dryness in my mouth—the final color takes its form. Blood red!

　　The sound of thunder pierces my ears, and my head pounds hard. The thunder's intensity keeps increasing as its new waves arrive. I put my hands on my ears and collapse to my knees. My chest is throbbing and my heart is racing. The thunderstorm is so loud that the blood starts sipping throughout my ears. I can't even look up.

　　I hear a continuous ringing in my ears. My heart is beating fast as I rub my ears again and again. There is no more screaming, no thunderclap, no sound at all.

　　I gasp for air, but I can't breathe—my body is turning blue—every living being has stopped existing in this moment.

　　'Am I going to die?'

　　My eyes are struggling to focus on the bloody ground; my vision is still blurred. I cough and spit, trying to inhale as much air as possible. The ground shakes, and my foot slips, scratching my knees against the rough surface. The sound of the wheels of death resounds, breaking the silence.

　　'Cracking of whips'

　　'Clattering of wheels'

　　'Galloping horses'

　　'Thumping of my heart'

　　Each sound is getting louder. Why does it feel like the end is near? My hands find the surface as I start to move back as soon as possible.

　　A sudden screech of the chariot and all the sound vanishes. No cracking, no galloping, no clattering. I blink back the tears that are threatening to surface. Even though I can't hear them, I feel the shaking of their legs, the thumping of their hearts, the continuous chanting and praying.

　　'Stup!'

　　I swallow the spit forming in my mouth as I hear the heavy footsteps approaching.

　　'Whoosh'

　　'Thump'

　　'Thump'

　　'Thump'

　　'Thump'

　　The muscles in my body are tense as I look by my side. I don't know for how long I didn't blink. One by one their bodies are torn and tossed aside. I can't move, and I can't breathe.

　　As if breaking out of a trance, I stand up and my legs move on their own, ready to sprint and put myself in front of those bodies.

　　'No …' I am about to scream, when someone places their hand over my mouth dragging me away from them.

　　"It is not the right time." I hear a whisper, and then my eyes open.

　　'Again this dream?' 'It's like the 6th time this week'

　　I'm still lying on the bed—thinking about it—when my alarm goes off

　　My body is sore and legs are paining. Like always, I can't remember the start of the dream but just the end.

　　"So, if I shouldn't be there, why the hell would you show me the same dream over and over again, huh?"

　　I ask like a maniac; looking up as if he were to answer my questions.

　　They say: if you see the same dream many times, it has to be true or come true. So, every time I wake up from this dream, I pray that it's just a dream.