Not again...
It was back...
That dream, appearing every night for weeks now.
But this time, Laura didn't bolt upright in terror as she usually did. She had grown used to it, in a strange way, as if she had finally accepted her fate. Even so, the moment she opened her eyes and saw the dim, flickering light inside that ancient, hollow train car, her chest constricted. She knew exactly what was coming next, yet she was powerless to stop it.
The air inside the carriage was thick with the scent of rusted iron and damp metal. The train rocked gently, its wheels clattering against invisible rails. Somewhere at the far end of the corridor, a child began to cry a faint, distant sound, yet agonizingly real.
Laura let out a soft sigh. Here we go again, she thought.
She turned toward the sound, but the hallway seemed to stretch infinitely, fading into the gloom. The crying grew sharper, echoing against the cold, dead walls. Then, the first drop of water fell, splashing onto her shoe. She didn't flinch anymore but her heart did.
Then came a deluge. The water rose rapidly, surging past her ankles, her knees, then her waist. She felt its crushing weight, stifling her breath. Despite having endured this dream dozens of times, panic still rushed in slow, familiar, and inevitable.
When the windows shattered, the flood swallowed her whole. Her lungs burned; her body froze. She tried to move, but the dream held her fast just like always.
And just before everything dissolved into blackness, the child's cry shifted into a whisper something she could almost make out.
"Wa... wake... up..."
...
..
.
Laura jolted awake.
Her heart hammered so hard she thought it might burst. An invisible weight pressed against her chest, making every breath heavy and fragmented. Her hands were trembling and ice-cold. Tears were already streaming down her cheeks before she even realized she was crying again.
It was always like this. She didn't understand why.
Every morning she woke up the same way: her heart aching, her eyes blurred by tears that didn't feel entirely like her own.
Today was no different. She sat in silence for a long time, trying to regain her composure, but the echo of the child's cry still lingered fading, as if following her out of the dream.
Laura wiped her face with the back of her hand, but the tears kept falling. They slid silently down her cheeks, refusing to stop. Her body still remembered the sensation of being submerged that crushing weight and the cold seeping deep into her lungs.
She turned her head toward the corner of the bed, where a small gray cat sat, wide-eyed and unblinking, staring at her.
"Good morning, Misty…" her voice was hoarse.
She reached out a shaking hand to stroke the cat's soft fur. Misty let out a low purr and curled closer; the cat's warmth pulled her back to reality for a fleeting moment. But even then, her hand continued to shake. Her pulse throbbed in her fingertips, and her skin remained deathly cold.
Outside, rain tapped softly against the porthole scattered drops at first, then quickening until it became a relentless whisper of water and wind. The sound filled the room, wrapping everything in a layer of heavy, damp silence.
Laura sat still, stroking Misty, her eyes following the raindrops sliding down the glass. The pale gray morning light filtered in, barely enough to illuminate her face. In that moment, she couldn't tell if the wetness on her skin was the rain outside or tears that had yet to dry.
There was something about the rain that made the dream feel close as if it hadn't ended, but had simply shifted from one kind of drowning to another.
After a long while, Laura's breathing finally slowed. The tremors in her hands subsided, and the tears dried, leaving her skin tight and cold. Misty continued to purr beside her, a soft ball of gray fur curled at the edge of the blanket.
The silence grew heavier, broken only by the steady hum beneath the floor the slow throb of the engine pushing the ship across the sea.
Laura leaned her head against the wall and closed her eyes, trying to banish the remnants of the dream. But as the room gave a slight lurch, a wave of nausea rose from her stomach. She pressed a hand to her chest, frowning.
"Not again…" she whispered.
Her body always reacted poorly to sea travel. Despite being on this ship for a week, the motion still left her dizzy and lightheaded as if she were still trapped in that suffocating dream.
She glanced at the small bedside table. The bottle of motion sickness pills was half empty, the cap left ajar, a few tablets scattered on a tissue. She had been taking more of them lately, but they hardly seemed to work anymore.
With a soft sigh, she picked up a pill, swallowed it dry, and reached for her phone. The dim screen read 6:27 AM.
Only half an hour left then she would reach her home island.
Laura looked out the small, round porthole. Outside, the world was draped in gray a blur of rain and waves incessantly battering the side of the ship. The sky and the sea seemed to merge into a single, endless ribbon of moving water.
She had always hated traveling like this. Flying was faster, easier. But because the storm last week had grounded all flights, the ship was her only way home.
Now, with every roll of the waves, her stomach churned. She closed her eyes, trying to breathe through the vertigo.
Maybe it was just seasickness.
Or maybe... the dream hadn't fully left her yet.
Because even with her eyes closed, she could still feel it the water rising, the weight pressing against her ribs, pulling her down into the deep.
...
..
.
Then the low, heavy thrum of the ship's engine suddenly shifted.
Slower. Steurdier.
Then, a calm voice crackled through the speaker above the bed:
"Good morning, passengers. We will be docking at Edevane Port in approximately thirty minutes. Please prepare your luggage."
Laura opened her eyes.
That steady, indifferent voice did nothing to soothe her the constriction in her chest remained. Beside her, Misty stirred, letting out a soft "meow" as if she, too, could sense the mounting unease.
"Almost there," Laura whispered, her voice raspy from sleep and the salt in the air.
She began to pack her things mechanically folding the blanket, zipping her worn leather bag, double-checking her phone and the pill bottle. Every movement was slow and deliberate, as if she were trying to delay something she wasn't ready to face.
Finally, she turned back to the door.
The metal surface was scratched and faded by time, but what caught her eye as it always did was the letter.
A strange, jagged symbol she had carved with the edge of a key a few days ago. It looked like a spiral, severed by a fractured line. She didn't remember where she had first seen it; she only knew it had appeared in her mind one night the night the nightmares began.
She told herself it was nothing maybe a lucky charm. A sign to stay safe.
But deep down, she knew why she had done it: to keep that thing out.
And now, standing there staring at the mark, a chilling thought flashed through her mind if she opened this door, it would know.
Laura's throat tightened. For a moment, she couldn't breathe. That heavy sensation returned as if the dream were still coiled tightly around her ribs. Misty rubbed against her leg, purring faintly.
Laura forced a weak smile and scooped the cat into her arms, holding her close to her chest.
"It's just a door," she whispered, her voice trembling. "It's just a door…"
The ship creaked. Somewhere in the distance, footsteps echoed passengers preparing to disembark. The pungent scent of salt filled the air. She gripped the handle, her knuckles turning white.
Taking one last deep breath, she threw the door open.
The hallway light flooded in stark, sharp, and blinding after days in the dim cabin. For a split second, everything stood still. Then, from somewhere deep within the belly of the ship, came the faint sound of water dripping… drip… drip…
The moment she stepped out, Laura's foot hit something wet and cold.
She froze.
It wasn't water. It was thicker cold, viscous clinging to the sole of her shoe like oil. Laura looked down. A streak of pitch-black liquid was spreading across the metal floor,
shimmering under the flickering hallway lights. Then the stench hit her heavy, rancid, like seawater mixed with rotting carcasses.
Her heart hammered. She looked up.
And then she saw it.
At the end of the corridor, right by the emergency exit, the creature was sitting there still.
She had spent the whole week hiding in her cabin, hoping it would vanish. But no it had never left. Its shape was only vaguely human limbs long and spindly, bent at impossible, fractured angles. Its skin was slick and black, as if it had just been hauled from the deepest trenches of the ocean. Its head tilted to one side, joints popping and cracking, and from beneath a mat of soaking wet hair, two milky-white sockets stared directly at her.
Laura's breath hitched. She went cold all over.
She told herself no one else sees it. The sailors, the passengers, they all walked past without a clue. Only her. Always, only her.
But this time… something was different.
It wasn't sitting still anymore. Its body began to rise, every movement long and sickeningly fluid. Fingers too long, too thin clawed at the wall, leaving greasy black streaks behind.
It was changing.
And for the first time since the nightmares began, Laura knew it was hungry.
A scream echoed in her head: Run!
But her body was frozen, paralyzed. Then, by some primal instinct, her legs moved on their own one step, then another and before she knew it, she was running.
Laura clutched Misty and her bag to her chest, her feet thudding against the narrow hallway. Behind her, she heard the sound of wet dragging, the scrape of claws on metal, and a low, wheezing breath that followed her like a promise.
The walls blurred past. Her heart was racing. She didn't dare look back.
Laura ran.
Her shoes clattered against the metal floor, echoing through the cramped corridor. The ship lurched, making her stumble, but she didn't dare stop. Misty clung to her shoulder, claws digging into her clothes, let out a raspy cry a sound swallowed by the frantic thumping of Laura's heart in her ears.
Behind her that sound again.
The wet, dragging slither.
And this time, there were footsteps faster, heavier, distorted, pounding on the floor as if they didn't belong to human feet.
"Go away…" she hissed, her voice thick and her breath coming in short gasps. "Please… don't come any closer…"
She rounded a corner and slammed hard into a man carrying luggage. His bag dropped, clothes spilling everywhere.
"Hey! Watch where you're going!" he snapped.
But Laura didn't even look back. She shoved past him, pushing into the growing crowd. People turned to stare, whispering in confusion.. but no one screamed. No one saw what she saw.
Because they couldn't see it.
But she could.
The creature's reflection flickered on the polished metal walls as she ran towering, distorted, its limbs undulating like shadows in water. Its face looked half-submerged, half-rotted, and this time… it was moving faster than ever.
Panic clawed at her chest. Ahead the exit, a red sign glowing dimly through the blur of rain. Laura tightened her grip on Misty and her bag, hurling herself forward.
She burst through the door, lunging onto the deck. The cold wind slapped her face. Rain poured down in a deluge, soaking her hair and clothes. Sailors shouted somewhere; mooring lines groaned as the ship prepared to dock.
Laura didn't stop. She bolted across the deck, splashing through puddles, ignoring the shouts behind her. Her heart was exploding it was right behind her, she knew it.
The gangplank lowered, connecting the ship to the wooden pier. Without hesitation, Laura charged down it, nearly falling as her feet hit the wet, cold wood. The scent of the sea and the storm filled her lungs.
She had made it the island.
But when she turned back. The creature was still there.
It was crawling off the ship, its long limbs twisting and contorting as it gripped the gangplank. Rain slid off its oily black skin, pooling into a dark puddle beneath it. Its head snapped up, those lifeless white eyes staring straight at her.
Laura took a step back, trembling so hard she could barely breathe. The world around her continued to move passengers laughing, workers hauling luggage but no one noticed it. No one screamed.
Only her.
Her heartbeat thundered in her ears as she took another step back, clutching Misty to her chest.
It was still coming.
And this time… it might not stop...