Free Writing.

Immortality = You have eternal life.
 Callous = Cruel and cold hearted.

 24th February 1993 

 Every night he visits me. 

 Never in my dreams. 

But always in my nightmares. 

 His voice is dreadful and sinister. The way he speaks is full of strength and intensity. His words have never been heard without a drop of venom. The words he says make my hair-raise and my spine fill with chills.

“I have the key. The key that unlocks all. Happiness, immortality, riches. Anything from your wildest dreams.” These words are drilled into my brain. Permanently tattooed and now immovable.

 “The door. Go to the door you will find all in there.” His voice is abnormal, Callous and hardened. With absolutely no hint of humanity what so ever. 

It’s always the same. A square room, the walls and floor pure white. Every corner perfectly even. There's one oak wood rocking chair in a corner, with a small wooden bedside table beside it. There's one door placed in the center of the wall opposite the chair. 

 I envision myself sitting on the plain rocking chair. My long brown locks in knots that look identical to tangled wires. There’s gigantic eye bags hanging from my eyes that give the ‘zombie coming back from the dead’ effect. I look as pale as a ghost that's been dipped in white paint. You can tell I've been scarred by the unbalanced look that's plastered on my face or maybe it’s the way my hands tremble down along with my body. I’m wearing what looks like a silky baby pink nightgown that reaches to just up to my knees. 

 I stand up slower than a snail sliding across salt. My knees clash against one another. My footsteps fill the silence in the room. My heart beating faster with each footstep. My body shakes as goosebumps begin to cover my arms and legs. As soon as I reach the door I outstretch my arm. My icy-cold hands meet with cool metal. I begin to turn the handle in a sluggish way, afraid of what’s hidden beneath the thick wooden door. My heart feels like it's about the jump out of my chest. 

 I never got past that. Everytime I’m about to open the door I awake.

 But it still haunts me. He still haunts me.