A Time to Harvest
The Second Dream
You are on a cold, earthen floor. It’s dark here, but not so dark that you don’t realise you are in a root cellar.
Gnarled knots of decayed vegetables droop above your head, root tendrils brush against your face and bare shoulders when you stand. You are naked, cold, and vulnerable. You see long wooden shelves lining two walls, holding jars containing pulsing, slightly glowing objects. Could they be brains? As you begin to approach, you turn as you hear a low, ugly growl that makes. your hairs stand on end. The growl transforms into guttural words speaking a strange language you don’t understand. Panicking, you run towards the stairs but, in true nightmare fashion, the stairs never get any closer as you run and run.
The roots grow thicker as you attempt to escape; grasping your hair and limbs. It is only when the strange voice reaches a booming crescendo that the roots part and you finally stumble onto the stairs. Darting upwards, you see a sturdy looking trap door barring the exit. The voice issues a final scream of rage as you hammer at the trap door and somehow manage to break it open, flooding the cellar with starlight. Sweating and panting, you climb outside to see that you are in a clearing surrounded by Sugar Maple trees. You take a few cautious steps across the wet grass. Something cold and sticky wraps around your ankles and begins to drag you back towards the cellar. Painfully, you are bundled down the stairs and the last thing you hear before complete darkness descends is a roar of bestial laughter. You wake up, shaking in abject terror, the laughter still echoing in your ears.