I sat in art class, admiring the odd mural on the table beside the teacher's desk. It was blue, with dashes of orange here and there. A student ran in to deliver a note to the substitute art teacher. The teacher looked sadly at me, delivering the news that Josh had died in a freak train accident.
The back story unfolded: Josh, for some reason, was attending high school, despite his mother vowing never to put her kids in public school AND that he was only thirteen. He was on some sort of team, who went on a field trip via train. He sat in a cranberry filled apartment. Suddenly, the tunnel the train went through collapsed onto them, killing all the passengers.
Families and schoolmates mourned for the deaths of Josh and his friends. But there was one thing that only I seemed to remember: Josh had died over a year ago. I reminded everyone of this, and suddenly a mystery unfolded: Did Josh really die the first time? Or is someone imitating him?
I woke up feeling sick. I stayed home from school, allowing another dream to unfold.
It was clear this young couple was visiting my grandma, Mamabugs. They casually walked up the winding staircase, flirting the way up to her room. The stairs were wooden with long blue rugs stretching across the center. The staircase seemed to go on and on, at least covering three flights.
The male must have said something offensive: the girl violently shushed him. But it was too late. There was a loud cackling laugh all through the case. The lights flashed, showing terrible images of eyeballs, human tongues, and other body parts... all made into candy. The carpets flipped inside out, letting the male fall into a candy factory. The woman ran down the stairs, screaming for help.
Scene change: My friends, classmates, and I all headed upstairs to confront Mamabugs about her hobby. In the same position as the couple, the lights began to flicker. The staircase door locked; Mamabugs' voice came onto the loud speaker, revealing her intentions: She didn't want to make us into candy like the others, especially since my sister, Kelly, and I were in the staircase. She wanted to have us test the candy, making sure they were delectable and... edible.
The prospect of having to eat human didn't go well with my group. They yelled at her, cursed her, etc. Mamabugs gave us a day to wait in the staircase and think about the option. If we didn't succumb... Well, I hoped I'd at least be delicious.
We wait there for hours when Mamabugs came through the staircase, calmly and sanely talking with each of us, asking us how we were, how school was... Kelly and I looked at each other: This was our chance. While our grandma questioned another kid, we snuck up the stairs into her room. We searched for a key, but instead found that her little window led to a ivy-covered balcony hanging over the rest of the house, which led to the front door, which led to freedom. I stuck my head out: the rest of the house was ginormous! And the furniture... giant-sized! The piano took up half the room, with large stools and chairs surrounding the balcony.
I was halfway out the window when my hips got stuck. Kelly pushed and pushed, but when I was almost out, Mamabugs' screech came through the room. Her claws hooked into my ankles, trying to yank me back inside. I struggled and struggled, finally wrenching myself free. I slammed the window shut, which, for some reason, kept her inside. I prayed for the safety of everyone still in the staircase, hoping that Kelly's presence would keep them from harm.
I looked over the balcony.Suddenly, I remembered escaping exactly like this in another dream... And I didn't want to take the same course. Instead of taking the easy route (jumping to the giant stool, leaping to the piano, and climbing down the piano bench), I ran to the other side of the balcony, marking my spot. This time, I climbed down the balcony's pole, using the ivy as foot holes, to the sofa. I jumped from the sofa to the piano to the stool, shimmying down the legs.
I ran to the door, pulling out my cellphone. Dead. My cell was dead. I ran to the neighbor's house, hoping they'd understand my situation. I stole Bea's phone, dialing 9-1-1 as I ran to the middle of the street, watching my grandma's house as if it'd suddenly explode.
The cops took forever to arrive, but when they did, all my friends were safe again. My grandma, poor dear, got her Candy Factory shut down and was off with a warning after being dubbed senile.
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