Haunted Dreams

A dark cavern, a woman with a black tattoo at the back of her waist, bat wings upon her shoulders. She stood about 30 feet from him, bathing in a pool, lit barely by candles held up by local vegetable life. He was filled with incredible curiosity, unable to escape her. He approached slowly, cautiously, stealthily, holding his breath, tensing, inching, and with each step, the hair at the nape of his neck started to rise, his body telling him to flee. Quickening heartbeat, a sweaty brow, and with nothing but the desire to flee, but he couldn’t, he had to keep stepping forward, closer to the beauty that bathed herself…
And then, she turns around, and he feels nothing but pure terror, piercing him straight into the heart… something beneath her hair, a face, right there, just visible…

He sat straight up in his bed. Sweat covered his body, and the covers clung to it. That dream again, that dark beauty, that terror. But in spite of it all, he felt drawn to her. What was she? Who was she? He dreamt of her nearly every other night, coming closer and closer to seeing her face. Why did she haunt him so?
The morning routine was simple. A shower, some cereal with buttered toast, a cup of coffee, black, no sugar, as his father told him, like real men drink it. A peek at the newspaper, the front page, skim the articles. Politics at the headline, skip. Woman’s body found in sea, skip. Sports section, skip. A look at the business page, a look at his stocks. Light a cigarette, take a drag, calm himself down. Dress in a business suit, walk out the door, get in his 2001 Toyota Celica. Then a quick drive down to Wall Street, to go through yet another day of business, trading, figures on large boards.
A day finished, time to go home, settle down to some self-cooked dinner, another cigarette, and then a shower before sleep.

A dark cavern, a bathing woman with a tattoo 30 feet from him, small bat wings flexing lightly. He finds himself walking up to her, step by step, stealthily, holding his breath, creeping along, with everything inside of himself telling him that he needs to get away from her. But he couldn’t, and then she turned. The sheer terror, piercing to his core, as he starts to see her face… but he can’t.
He turns, he runs. But he knows she pursues him, and she is unstoppable. She is power itself, and he begins hear her speak. A few words, barely legible. “I am Adrianna... !”

He awoke once more, covered in sweat. Adrianna. The name was familiar, so familiar. He couldn’t put it out of his head. Adrianna. He knew it. After sitting there for five full minutes, he decided he couldn’t dredge up the name from the recesses of his memories, and he went about his routine.
Buttered toast. Cereal. A cup of coffee. Cigarette. A look at the newspaper. More politics. G8 summit was coming up, skip. The woman was identified, skip. Sports section, ski… wait.
The woman was identified. Adrianna Lucretia. Her husband identified her, and foul play was suspected. He began to sweat. He couldn’t concentrate for the rest of the day. Sloppy driving, a stock market that he couldn’t keep up with. All day thinking the name. Adrianna, Adrianna, Adrianna. A drive home from work.
And then it came time to sleep. He couldn’t, he wouldn’t. He drank coffee, kept drinking it. He sat on his couch, trying to keep awake. He lights a cigarette. Takes a long drag. Starts to exhale, leans back for comfort, and then he slips to the Otherworld. His hand hung limp, the cigarette falling to the floor.

He snuck up on her, inch by inch. His heartbeat racing, wanting to get away, but he couldn’t stop himself. She turned, he tried to face her, couldn’t do it, ran. But he heard her shouting after him.

“I am Adrianne, Erinnyes! Home to Tartarus, where the condemned lie,
as far from earth as earth is from sky!
I am punishment, I am merciless, I stand at the gates,
I am daughter of Nyx, the night, sister to the Moirae, the Fates!"

"Know your fate, mortal, for the crimes you have committed!
Know that the dire sound, that you hear emitted,
Know the face you see before you, as the sun’s great flare,
Know that you shall look upon it, and you shall despair!”

She caught him, whirled him around, made him face her.

It was the face of the woman he killed. He screamed. Fire licked at him, burning his skin, drying hers. He did not awaken.