Sarah Russ

The setting was an open patio on a warm summers day. A table had been set and at each place was a child; maybe ten children or so at the age of five or six. Im one of these children. We are all seated at the table eagerly awaiting the promise of being given cake. Now, I really love cake so waiting for what seemed to be a very long time on a hot day as a little kid was simply impossible. I had grown too anxious and so I got up from the table and left to see if I could find cake on my own. There was a door to the left of the table and a door to the right. I chose the one on the left; wrong choice. I stumbled excitedly through the door and down a hallway. But I began to slow down as the bright, hot summer was replaced with a darker atmosphere and a more chilling air the further I traveled down the hallway. As I continued, I came upon a tank containing some sort of monstrous creature. It did not move but its face had frozen on it a vicious snarl and a frigid stare. You shouldnt be here called a voice from behind me. I trembled as I turned to face the voice that had spoken. It had come from a middle aged woman whose eyes contained the same cold gleam as the monsters had. I was taken firmly by the hand and escorted back to the table. In my absence, cake had been brought to the table. Even now, I was still quivering from the knowledge of having done something wrong. I was handed a plate with a large slice of cake but then taken away from the table by the woman. She led me to a large, enclosed garden. I couldnt see the top of the fence or plants as everything towered over me. I clutched my plate tightly for courage. The woman gently nudged me into the boundaries of the garden and with a devious smile, latched the entrance to the gate behind me, and walked away. I stared wide-eyed after her, still shaking. I began to hear a buzzing noise. All of a sudden, the buzzing was all over me; a swarm of bees; an endless swarm; endlessly buzzing; endlessly stinging. Each burrowing its needled stinger into every available space my body had to offer. Stinging my face, ears, eyes, hands, my entire body. I released a blood curdling scream. I flung my cake to the ground. It distracted a small number of bees, but they seemed to multiply before my eyes. The pain, it was excruciating. It clouded my vision. Never before had I experienced so many needled incisions all at once. Have you ever felt like every nerve in your body was being pierced? I blindly rushed forward if only to escape the pain for a moment. Tears and blood streamed down my face. I crawled forward, but was unable to get away. I couldnt escape the pain. I couldnt escape the needles. I tried to scream again, but my mouth was choked and swarmed with bodies of bees, needles and stinging. I was left to suffer in this garden of hell for three months. Again and again and AGAIN I endured the stinging. Three whole months But it was always that same hot summer day. I hid within the shade of the plants at a meek attempt to escape but of course it didnt do me any good. The stinging and the buzzing always followed me. It had turned my skin into an armor of crusted blood and battered lumps; every area was swollen and disfigured in such a way.

Sarah Russ

At the end of those three months, the bees vanished and the woman returned to take me out of the garden. We walked together to the patio. It appeared the same as I had left it. The woman took me to my seat at the table and handed me a plate with that same large slice of cake. Stunned, I realized my skin had returned to normal. I stared at the cake. I began trembling. Tears streamed down my face. I threw the plate on the ground and as it broke, the other children turned to watch me. They watched as I clasped my hands over my ears as tightly as I could and I screamed and screamed and screamed. I woke up in tears. Never before have I had such a vivid or memorable or fearsome dream. Now this dream happened, probably back in November. And one thing Id like to add was that, Ive had an intense fear of needles since I can remember. I guess the moral I would take from this story was dont travel to strange places with strange people. I wouldnt classify my life as boring, but none of the stories that I have collected have really stood out. So I chose to tell you all about the one and only nightmare that Ive ever had.