It’s not real

Words 494

“The flat looks great.” Sandra stood back and admired their handy work.

“Thanks for helping me get ready for the party. You’re a good friend. I wouldn’t be doing this if it wasn’t for you.” Cassie, hugged Sandra, tears threatening to overwhelm her.

“You deserve it, after the year you’ve been through.”

The car crash. It had taken her parent’s lives and was never far from Cassie’s thoughts.

“They should to be here for my twenty first birthday celebration, Sandra.”

“It wasn’t your fault, Cass.”

But Cassie knew differently, she’d been taking drugs before driving her parents home that night. They both died.

💀

Soon the little apartment was crowded with her college friends. Cassie took a drag of a spliff and passed it to her boyfriend, Zak. He lifted her long blonde hair away from her ear and whispered, “Anything stronger?”

To Cassie, the strobe lights seemed to get more intense, brighter, more colourful, flashing in time with the beat of her heart. An observer, on another plain,
she watched herself dance with wild abandon.

In the kitchen she stared at ice melting in the sink. She’d never seen anything so beautiful. Her glazed eyes locked on to an ice cube changing shape, drops of water sliding, slipping from its smooth surface. She saw her fingers elongate and turn into icicles, melting, dripping, running like wax from a candle. “It’s not real,” she whispered.

💀

The harsh overhead light showed the mess, the floor, sticky with spilt drinks, empty beer and wine bottles were strewn everywhere. Cassie’s head ached. Everyone had gone home at last, even Zak, who’d wanted to stay the night. But she’d wanted to be alone, to sleep off the effects of the drugs. She made her way to bed, chips and spilt popcorn crunched under her bare feet.

💀

Rolling onto her back, she listened. Something had woken her. A slow knock came again. “Who’s there?” she called. There was no answer. Getting out of bed, she moved to the door. “Who is it?”

“Cassie”, a deep voice intoned.”your parents sent me to collect you. They need you to join them.”

Her heartbeat sounded in her ears. Breathless, she waited. When a wide, curved blade tore a hole in her door, she screamed and backed away from the jagged hole. “It’s not real, it’s not real,” she muttered under her breath.
At last, she dared place her eye up to the hole, all the time whispering under her breath, “It’s not real.”

Opening her eyes she saw a grinning skeletal face looking back. The door swung open. Cassie watched in horror as he raised his weapon. With one swift slash, the steel scythed through her slim white neck. Her head tilted forward, held on with a sliver of sinew. The blood from her carotid artery spurted down the wall and dripped from the Reaper’s scythe..

Her last thoughts from her dying brain were, it’s not real, it’s not…, its…