Chapter 27 - Riddles Riddles Everywhere
In the midst of my contemplation on the enigma of knowing her, I found myself delving into the intricate complexities of our shared history. The possibility of having encountered her in the past ignited a series of reflections, leading me to a singular deduction—this mysterious presence must be Iris. She, an embodiment of forgotten connections, emerged as the prime candidate haunting the recesses of my dreams. The revelation prompted me to speak her name aloud, an exclamation that elicited a disapproving frown from Eugene, who vehemently defended her innocence. Our exchange, however, distracted us from the crucial task of formally concluding our Ouija board session, unwittingly leaving a metaphysical door ajar.
As frustration welled within me, I grappled with Eugene's unswerving loyalty to Iris. His love for her transcended rationality, willingly entangling him in the intricacies of my troubles solely for her sake. The intensity of his devotion left me with a profound sense of heaviness, prompting contemplation on the nature of such unwavering commitment. Eugene's unwavering defense of Iris, even in the face of mounting evidence suggesting her spectral presence in my nightmares, left me in a state of perplexity.
Amid the emotional turmoil, tears brimmed in my eyes, and I sought solace by embracing a pillow tightly. The depth of Eugene's affection stirred a longing within me, prompting silent cries of sorrow to escape. Unbeknownst to me, I succumbed to the embrace of sleep, the dreamscape painted with hues of grief and longing.
In the quietude of my subconscious, a whisper escaped my lips: "I wish Iris is still alive." Yet, intertwined with this earnest wish was a more selfish desire, an unspoken yearning for Eugene's undivided companionship, if only for a fleeting moment, free from the overshadowing presence of Iris's haunting memory. The acknowledgment of these conflicting emotions left me introspective, questioning the bounds of friendship and whether, within those boundaries, I could not claim a piece of Eugene's heart without the looming specter of the woman we both sought.
The moon hung low in the night sky, casting an ethereal glow over the desolate landscape. As I found myself lost in the labyrinth of dreams, an ominous fog crept in, shrouding everything in a ghostly haze. The air turned icy, and an unsettling stillness settled over the dreamworld.
I stood in a dimly lit hallway, its walls adorned with faded wallpaper peeling at the edges. The silence was broken only by the distant echoes of my own footsteps, a hollow sound that reverberated through the eerie atmosphere. A foreboding presence lingered in the air, intensifying with each step.
Abruptly, the corridor seemed to elongate, distorting into a never-ending passage. At the far end, a flickering light beckoned, casting long shadows that danced ominously on the walls. As I approached, the source of the light revealed itself — a flickering candle atop an old wooden table.
The air grew heavier, and a sudden chill ran down my spine. The temperature plummeted as a spectral figure materialized in the flickering candlelight. It was Ms. Potts, a former teacher who had long departed from the realm of the living. Her visage was twisted into a ghastly expression, her eyes hollow and filled with malevolence.
A sinister grin played upon her lips as she extended a spectral hand towards me. At that moment, the dream shifted, and Iris appeared beside me, her eyes widening with fear. Ms. Potts, a vengeful spirit, had seemingly targeted us both in the realm of dreams.
The ghostly figure advanced, the air thickening with an otherworldly energy. Ms. Potts' whispers echoed, a haunting chant that sent shivers through the dreamworld. The walls seemed to close in, trapping Iris and me in a claustrophobic nightmare.
Suddenly, the temperature plummeted further, and an invisible force seized hold of us. I felt an icy grip on my shoulder, a spectral hand digging into my flesh. Iris, too, struggled against an unseen force, her eyes wide with terror.
Ms. Potts' voice grew louder, a cacophony of eerie laughter and malevolent whispers. The ghostly presence became corporeal, and with a jolt, her ethereal form manifested into a grotesque specter. Cold fingers gripped my throat, tightening like a vice, while Iris was ensnared in an invisible embrace, the air squeezed from her lungs.
In a desperate attempt to break free, I called out Iris's name, but my voice was drowned in the haunting symphony of Ms. Potts' malevolence. The dreamworld became a nightmarish battleground, where the line between reality and nightmare blurred into a harrowing dance of terror.