Tara was an accomplished lucid dreamer. She quickly created the dream she wanted from this morning’s memory. She appeared exactly where she wanted, at the entrance to the tunnels of the White Cliffs of Dover.
The tour guide was telling the group that Churchill had had the tunnels built to house gun battery teams… whatever. Tara hadn’t cared this morning, and she didn’t care now. Her ethereal self dove past him.
The tunnels had been dark in real life, but in her dream she could see everything clearly. She soon found what she was looking for, the cave in. “No-one living knows what lies beyond”, the guide had said (overdramatically). But Tara would know, soon. She willed herself past the rocks and emerged on the other side. The tunnel continued, so Tara followed it. Down, down it went, further down than she could have imagined.
She decided to turn back, but couldn’t. Invisible, ice-cold tendrils seemed to grab her by the spine and pull her further in. Panicking, she tried to wake herself but for the first time ever, she couldn’t.
Tara was dragged out into a wide-open space with nothing but blackness below. Something foul was hiding in that darkness. She felt it, and it was pulling her in. She screamed once, then the cold enveloped and immobilized her.
She was still conscious when the creature swallowed her whole.
Thanks for reading!
Written for: Sunday Photo Fiction – July 24th 2016
233 words (What? That’s “about” 200 words. *^_^* ).