The following story by Siddarth Tumu ’18 won a 2017 Scholastic Gold Key Award. Enjoy!
Dreams
Photography by Jared Caputo ’17
Between the gentle rasps of my snores I heard a sharp metallic sound echoing from the depths of the hallway. As I cautiously awoke from my slumber to investigate, a sudden feeling of sheer dread hit me. I grabbed the pocketknife I keep on the bedside table as I crept across my room. I cracked my door open just enough to peer into the hallway. It occurred to me that I had no plan for actually dealing with an intruder. Choosing to ignore my better senses, I squeezed through the door and tiptoed down the hallway, furtively poking my head into each room I passed with mounting fright. A bright light suddenly shone on the back of my head. I turned around to see a well-built man about my height with a look of defiance and pure hatred in his eyes.
As I adjusted the blanket to fully cover me, my thoughts shifted to a mysterious cloaked figure. I was just able to discern two glaring eyes and a malicious smile. As the figure drew his hood back, I let out a scream of pure terror. Suddenly, his face dissolved into a nebulous array of shapes and colors.
The moment our eyes met seemed to draw out for an eternity. Sizing each other up, determining what the other was made of, looking for ways to best position ourselves. As he made a motion towards me, I was possessed by an overwhelming sense of rage, rage at how some intruder thought he could break into my house, steal my things, and hurt me. I lunged at him, driving him back into a wall. His heavy breathing surprised me, unbecoming of his apparent youth. Taking advantage of the instant of surprise, I grabbed my pocketknife and thrust it at him. Swiftly bringing his flashlight up, he deflected my knife but dropped the flashlight as he stumbled backwards. Darkness engulfed the hallway as the flashlight shattered into a thousand pieces.
I was walking down a brightly lit corridor lined with doors on either side. I looked into each room only to find it empty. Reaching the end of the hallway, I started to turn around and caught a hooded figure approaching me. As I turned to face the hooded figure, his body dissolved into an empty blackness.
Scuffling down the hallway, I tumbled into my own room. Dawn was approaching and the sun’s first rays glimmered over the horizon, faintly illuminating my room. He pushed me onto my bed, ready to strike the final blow. I glimpsed my pocketknife lying on the floor just beyond my reach. How it got there I did not know but I realized it was my only way to stay alive. With a newfound determination, I struck the intruder’s head. I quickly grabbed the knife. As quickly as he had fallen down, the intruder was up again, charging at me. Mustering every last ounce of strength and courage I had, I drove the pocketknife into his heart. Though I could not clearly see his face, I sensed the monumental surprise in his eyes and as he fell into my arms I gently lay him on the bed. My mind was numb as the magnitude of my actions dawned on me. A piece of me had died with the intruder, the joyful blissfulness of an innocent and carefree life. I collapsed onto the bed, next to the intruder, and allowed my aching muscles to succumb to a deep sleep.
I looked down the corridor again; the hooded figure was nowhere to be found. I entered and sat down at a desk. I found myself across from the hooded figure. He leaned forward, taunting me to reveal his identity. I reached over and pushed his hood back, revealing the bloodied face of none other than the intruder! A cold shock overwhelmed me and everything went black.
Somewhere in the back of my mind an alarm clock was ringing. Waking with a start, I glanced at the alarm clock. It read 5:30 a.m. I noticed that sweat was dripping down my face and my covers were damp. My muscles were tight and I felt an indescribable strain on my body, on my very existence. My mind was racing. Taking several deep breaths of relief, I realized that the ordeal had been nothing more than a nightmare. My hand touched the bed to feel something warm, sticky. I turned on the lamp and glanced at my bed—there his body lay in a growing pool of blood.