[Featured on WATTPAD PICKS]
The last thing you'd imagine Earth's General having is an identity crisis, let alone in the middle of an interstellar war, but for General Avalyn Concerto she begs to differ.
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How long had Ava been running? She couldn't tell. It was pitch black. There was no light, no clock; she couldn't see past her hands or how far she'd run. She kept moving anyway. Running was the best thing she could do for now.
The further she went, the darkness turned into a long hallway, showcasing faceless paintings off peeling walls. A green door popped up near the end. Was that the exit? It had to be, if not some place safer than here.
Ava picked up the pace and ran faster and faster, but the heavyweight of gravity confined her to the floor. This had to be a dream. She was just sleeping next to Sam.
Something cool caught her ankle. A dark blob squeezed her skin as hundreds fast approached. Fingers sprouted from the goo, flattening into a hand. They grab at her thigh, her waist. Her hair was tugged violently back from behind. She couldn't escape.
They scratched Ava's skin, left bites of frost. Her breath froze in the stale air. She tried avoiding the hands the best she could, but with each step, her muscles burned. Her shoes grew heavy as lead covered boots.
This was only a dream, it had to be, yet she couldn't even use her gliding abilities at all. None of her abilities were working when they should be. They always did in her dreams. What the hell was going on?
With one last push, Ava closed in on the decorative green door, with a facade of swirls and contours and a lion head for a handle. Light seeped out from the base. She latched onto the iron handle and pulled it open. And closed it just as fast.
The hands rammed against the door. They scratched the wood where her back pressed, billowing the sides out. Her heels dug into the carpet. She searched for a lock. A giant plank of wood appeared high above her head. It was long enough to cross the entire threshold of this door.
It was now or never. Ava jumped and yanked the plank down. It latched shut and rested on its iron arms. The scratches seized in an instant. She could finally feel and hear the erratic thumping of her heart.
An eerie silence cascaded over the room, clashing with its Neo Pop colors and dark Gothic inspiration. A brick fireplace was against the right wall with a fire blazing heat into her chilled bones. Bare walls, no paintings hung in this room, yet she was being watched.
Mounds of food laid out in decadence across a long metal table with a tall and wide centerpiece. There were steaming vegetables and fruit floating in sweet liqueur, topped with Ava's favorite desserts of macaroons and chocolate. Tons of chocolate. A roasted pig sat at the end with a delicious red apple stuffed inside its mouth.
This need to eat overwhelmed her. It smelled like chicken, like moose pie and ripe fruit. She could taste them in the air, and before she could stop herself, she picked the apple up. Its red coating shined brilliantly from the Gothic chandelier, begging her to eat it.
"Didn't your mother ever teach you to never take food from a stranger?"
Hairs rose on the back of her neck. His voice was so deep and chilling—hypnotizing. Ava stiffened and peeked around the centerpieces metal thorns.
