That
night, Sandra found herself back in a dreamy world. Although, no longer
standing on a wind-beaten hill, no longer floating high above a huge
banquet hall, she was strolling along a narrow and littered street. A
cold wind was blowing hard in her face and all around her, old
newspapers and tincans moved. She raised her right arm to her forehead,
protecting her eyes from the stinging dust particles. A narrow side
street veered to her left and she turned onto it, finding shelter from
the wind. The side street ran between two rows of dirty houses and
lights were shining in windows and doorways. In one upstairs window, an
old lady stared out through a dusty pane, although she turned away as
Sandra passed. Suddenly, she heard footsteps sounding behind her and she
turned sharply, catching a glimpse of a shadow disappearing into a
doorway. On turning and moving on, she could hear the footsteps clicking
along with each step she took. Faster, faster, getting closer all the
time.
Two large dumpsters were jutted up against the left wall and she darted
between them, hoping whoever the footsteps belonged to would just pass
by. Tip-tap, tip-tap, tip-tap went the shoes on the pavement. Tip-tap,
tip-tap, tip-tap, and then nothing. They just stopped. Precious seconds
passed, heavy breathing out there in the side street. A shadow appeared
in her line of vision, footsteps moving slower now. Much slower, moving
closer. She tried to pull herself out of it, to think of her loving
husband and to wish herself awake. Suddenly, a man appeared before her.
A powerfully built man with shoulder length, ice black hair and a
V-shaped beard. Eyes dark and pinlike, a man wearing a long dark cloak.
In his right hand, he held a large red apple and he smiled an unearthly
smile, edging closer, closer all the time. She screamed for help. Men,
women and children were staring through the dusty windowpanes at her,
her screams going unheard. The appled-hand came closer, the foul smell
of death lingering on his putrid breath.
“No, stay away from me!”