Waking from a Nightmare

Gregory was dreaming, he knew it was a dream because of the way things would change so abruptly, however, that didn’t make the dream any less frightening. His heart was pounding and his breath was coming in sobbing gasps as he ran down the long dark passage.

Torsten was right behind him. The man was walking, his staff held out in one hand, ready to strike. Even though he was walking, Gregory couldn’t seem to escape him.

Suddenly, hands caught Gregory around by his arms. He gasped and looked up, into Ackerley’s face. The brows furrowed and he said, “You are mine!”

“No,” Gregory gasped, waking suddenly. Trembling, he sat up. He was sitting in the middle of a large bed. The covers were soft and warm, not the cold satin from Ackerley’s room or the coarse cotton from the room at the museum.

The room was sparse, with simple furnishings. Beside the bed, there was a low nightstand, with a clock. A desk and chair stood at the wall to his left. The far wall had a cabinet and a wall unit with books and a stereo. There were two doors, one leading to a balcony and the other, presumably, to the rest of the building. Actually, except for how new everything was, it reminded Gregory of his flat.

He shivered and looked around again. “Where am I?” he said, blinking.

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