Jonis in the Afterlife
an excerpt

Cold desk. I usually avoid sleeping in class since the teachers hate me enough, but sleep avoided me like I was Kalee the night before. Again, I’ve heard things. But I would get close, so close, and a thought would hit me. Something I wouldn’t want to think about, and I’d be wide again.

So my head couldn’t help but be attached to the desk as my eyes were closed.

But then things changed. I just felt it.

When I looked up, I wasn’t in that room. I wasn’t underwater. And something about where ever I was, it wasn’t cold directly, but there was something soul crushing about it, cold on the inside.

“Hello Jonis.”

I jumped as I realized I was looking right at someone. A woman. She was gaunt in the face, but her body was hard to make out because of her huge 1800s sort of dress.

“Who are you and where am I?”

“You’ll know in due time, and I think if you were to look around and quit panicking you’d see that you’re in a room.”

Well, I decided to take the advice, and the damn stranger was right. The room oddly combined Victorian era objects with something out of an old log cabin, all in very dark colors. And although there was no blood or death anywhere, something about the room was gorey. Maybe a presence. Though it could also have been the fact that the room had a faint smell to it, like something was rotting near this place.

“I spent my entire life here. And then some.”

I looked back at her. “Is this a dream?”

She smirked. “Yes and no. You are technically asleep, but I’m not a manifestation of your subconcious. I exist on my own accord.”

I cocked my head to the side. “You’re making no sense.”

“It doesn’t matter. What matters, is I understand your dream.”

I gawked, annoyed. “How could you? You don’t even know me, and you claim to not be some further detatchment of my psyche.”

Another smirk, “no, see, it’s you who doesn’t know me. I know damn near everything about you. It happens.”

“Oh, I see, so you’re just some creepy stalker then?”

“If that’s what you want to say to comfort yourself, go for it. But ask yourself one question: if I were just a stalker, how would I be in your dream?”

“Simple, you said this wasn’t a dream.”

“How did I get into your asleep state of mind then?”

“Again, this is easy: I’m not asleep.”

“My name is Victoria Blyss. Write it down as you wake up, and research my name.”

“We were in a battle of brains, Ma’am.”

I heard an echo of Mrs. Scott’s voice from a corner of the room: “Miss Greenfield!” And a hard jab to my shoulder.

“We’ll have to finish it some other time.”