Content Warning: This story contains themes of violence, supernatural horror, apocalyptic elements, blood/injury, psychological distress, and existential judgment. Reader discretion is advised.
Author's Note:
This story explores honesty, temptation, and the consequences of human weakness under pressure.
Introduction
In a world where dreams can condemn or redeem the soul, one honest man finds himself trapped between his lifelong principles and a single moment of weakness. What begins as a simple nightmare spirals into a terrifying new reality, forcing Elvis to confront the true cost of his choices.
The Alley Encounter
It was a good night; the weather was perfect for a robbery. The three men huddled close together in a dark alley, whispering about the tasks they were about to undertake. None of them knew why they had chosen the careers of armed robbers. They just happened to be there, planning how to rob the bank or the homes around the bank without getting caught.
There was a noise at the other end of the alley and they froze. Slowly, they looked in the direction of the noise and each of them released the breath they had been holding. It was just a cat chasing a rat. The cat stopped in its haste and watched the men without blinking. Its dark fur made it almost invisible; only the yellow eyes could be seen.
"That cat made my heart beat faster," one of the men said. He was wearing a mask with just holes for his eyes, nose, and mouth.
"Shut it, Murphy," another said, elbowing him. "Someone could hear you."
"It is late and everyone is asleep," Murphy said, still watching the cat.
"Murphy is right," the last man in the group said. "That cat is looking right into my soul."
"Not you too, Elvis," the man with the broad shoulders said, glaring at Elvis.
"Look at the cat, man," Murphy said. "It hasn't moved and it hasn't blinked. Something is wrong somewhere."
The man looked at the cat and shuddered inwardly. He thought the cat was looking at him directly. That was not normal. Cats tended to run when they met strangers in an alley, not look at them like it was studying them. But he pretended for the benefit of the other two.
"Cut it, guys. We need to set the plan in motion. The night can't wait for us."
"No, Habib," Elvis said. "That cat is a bad omen."
The Dream
Elvis had always been a good guy. He had never stolen anything in his life. He didn't know how he found himself there. He didn't know these two people. They had just approached him and said they were looking for someone to join them to rob a bank. He had agreed just like that, no questions asked. He had just agreed to join them, and now they were all looking at a cat that was looking back at them like it was watching their souls.
"Pick a stone and throw it at the cat," Elvis advised Habib.
Habib shook his head. He would not be the one to stir a bee's nest. The cat was just watching. No way was he going to provoke it.
"Why me?" he asked.
"You're the leader," Elvis said as he bent down, using his hand to grope on the floor until he came up with a stick. He handed it over to Habib, who took it and held it like it was a live snake.
"Throw it now," Murphy said as he shifted to the right of Habib.
Habib held the stick and raised his hand. He felt a cold breeze blow at him and his heart froze. The night was too warm for such a breeze. His heart started beating faster and his breathing came hard. He swallowed spit he never knew had filled his mouth. He took a stance ready to throw the stick when the cat hunched its back and then meowed three times. Right in front of their eyes, it started growing in size. The three men stood there watching with wide eyes, frozen on their feet.
As the cat's transformation finished, it was the size of a lion. It moved slowly and deliberately toward them. The air around them grew thick with fear, and the three men wet their pants when the cat stood in front of them. They watched the dark fur and yellow eyes gleam, and they could hear the scraping of its claws on the hard pavement.
"I'm dead. This is why they say crime doesn't pay. It is my first time and yet I'm facing judgement," Elvis thought as the cat stopped in front of him. In a lightning-flash movement, its claw slashed at him and a deep gash appeared in his cheek. At first he wasn't aware because the slashing was so fast, but later he felt something slide down his cheek. With his heart pounding, he raised his hand and touched his cheek. It came away bloody. The smell of blood hit him — that unmistakable iron tang. He looked at his hand and screamed.
Awakening
He woke up in his room, heart pounding in his chest and throat raw and dry like he had crept through the desert without water for days. His vision was blurry like hot sand in his mouth. He groped his way to the tap in his kitchen, splashed water on his face, and as the cold water touched him, he started coming to himself. He cupped water from the tap in his palm and drank. He swore he could hear his throat hiss like it was a burning coal.
He rested on his counter by leaning on the table. *What a dream.* How could he have agreed to rob? He had never stolen in his life. He shook his head, and as he did so, he felt pain on his cheek. He frowned, not knowing what was going on, and then he remembered the claw in his dream — the pain as he felt the blood flowing down his cheek. He froze as he slowly lifted his hand to his cheek and felt the skin. He swore and hurried to his mirror in his room.
The room was dark. He turned on the light switch, but there was no light. This had never happened, he thought. Then the light flickered on briefly and went out again. In that brief moment, he saw his face. He saw the claw mark. Strangely, the wound had healed. It was like it had happened about six months ago.
He moved to his door and yanked it open. A white blinding light hit him.
The New Reality
Elvis is a man of thirty-five years old, never married but living well in a good neighborhood that housed the elite in society. He is tall, of average build, with brown eyes and dark hair tied in a ponytail. He is a businessman who imports goods and sells to middlemen. He is honest, loyal, and trustworthy.
He had grown up under the tutelage of his father, one of the biggest importers of perishable goods. Yet his stock was always sold out. Many customers already booked in advance even before the goods reached port. His father had instilled the art of honesty in his son. He had taught him about doing the right thing always, no matter what it took.
One day in his warehouse after they had witnessed a business partner come to complain about the treatment they got from the middlemen, his father had knelt in front of his son with a serious look.
"My son," he had paused, looking around the warehouse — the dust that never ended, the smell of sweaty workers, the stacks of crates, boxes, and bags arranged in rows after rows with name tags on them so as to get goods quickly. He had patted the young Elvis on the head and continued, "All this will be yours one day, my son. Learn to be honest no matter what. Never take advantage of others. It is better not to sell a single good than to use corrupt means to sell it."
"Yes, father," the young Elvis had replied.
"And always treat your workers like your family. They are more important than any business deals. They are the ones who look after the goods. You treat them well and they will make sure your goods are in good condition and there is no sabotage at all."
"Yes, father," he had replied.
That was the kind of person Elvis had been. He had taken his father's advice to heart, and when he had that dream, it had shocked him because how could he agree to be a robber? That was not a good sign at all.
So as he came out of his house and got blinded by the bright light, his mind played all that had happened, from when he was a kid to his adult life. Everything was great, and the only stain he had on his person was the dream where he had agreed to join those two robbers.
He couldn't see anything. All he saw was just plain white. The brightness was like a blanket of snow. It was everywhere, and when he closed his eyes and covered his face with his clothes, the brightness still penetrated and he groaned in agony. He soon smelled fear all around him. It was like the fear was alive. He could taste it. He could even grab it if he wished. But he stood there at his door because when he tried to get back in, his door was locked and he couldn't open it. So he stood there, and slowly the brightness started dispersing. In about five minutes, he could feel the light turning to grey and then a dim darkness, but one could see. As his eyes adjusted to the dimness, the first thing he saw was the people flying in the sky.
He stood there watching with his mouth open. *This isn't real,* he thought. He watched them and saw that they had wings and were wearing white. They had pointed ears. He watched open-mouthed, and then writing started appearing right over his eyes. He saw the letters written in the form of white smoke and rubbed at his eyes.
"Where am I? Is this still a dream?" He squinted and read the letter: "Only those who are chosen can fly."
"What is the meaning of this?" he thought. He dragged his eyes to another letter: "The test has begun."
"What test? What is going on here?" He finally dragged his eyes off the sky and looked around him. He saw a few groups of men hurrying to enter a black jeep. What surprised him was that they were armed with all manner of guns. He hurried to them and they stopped as they watched him come.
"Good day, friends. I just woke up. Please, can you tell me what is going on?"
The men looked at each other and then at him. They looked at him like he was mad. He knew then that he needed information or he would keep roaming in this strange situation.
"You just woke up?" one of the men said. His voice was rough like he had been shouting, and he had broken nails and teeth that needed brushing.
"Yes," Elvis said.
"That is impossible," the man said, and his companions nodded their heads. Elvis looked at them. They were five plus the man who had answered him and a woman. He looked at their clothes. It was different from those who were flying. These people looked lean like they had never eaten for days. Some of them had burns on their skin, unkempt hair, dirty nails, and body odour that even the flies were afraid to near.
"Why is that impossible? Please, what is going on here?"
"We have been trying to survive here for the past two years now," the man said in his tough voice. "The world has ended and the chosen have been called. Those of us not called need to fight the beasts of the underworld. See, each person needs to kill about two hundred beasts. Mind you, those beasts aren't easy to kill and people hardly survive."
"Wait!" Elvis said, raising his hand. "How can this be? I was just sleeping, having a dream, and when I woke up, I'm standing here."
"Of course," the man said, and Elvis swore he could see sympathy in the man's eyes. But he guessed he must have been mistaken because the man just grunted and said, "You were tested in your dream and you failed, and so here you are."
"What! I don't think so."
"That is how it has been. That is how the chosen were taken. It was fair and square."
Elvis was shaking at this. How could this be? He had lived a good and honest life. He had never committed any crime, and just because of a little dream he had... He shook his head and asked the man, "You said the end of the world?"
"Yes. I was a pastor," the man said. "I had a dream and I was given a choice. I picked the wrong one. I thought I could just have my way and be done — one sin, I thought, not knowing it was what would condemn me here."
At this, Elvis's head snapped up. He looked at the man and said, "I have always loved an honest life. I have never taken anything that doesn't belong to me. I dreamed two men asked me to join them on a robbery and I agreed. Maybe that was my test."
"Of course," the man said.
"Come on, Pat," the woman said, dragging the sleeve of the man. "We need to go or we will not see any beast to kill."
The man nodded, and before he climbed the jeep, he said to Elvis, "Don't trust too much. This is a killing field now. Even a single bite from an ant will kill you. And if you can kill a beast, start hunting them. The faster you kill them, the better chance for your situation to change. And another thing — they are the only edible thing in this land."
The Approaching Beast
Elvis wasn't even listening anymore. His mind had gone blank as he watched them drive off. "What have I done?" he muttered. "How can someone be tested in a dream and not in the real world?"
He watched the jeep take a turn in the far distance, and soon it was out of sight. He turned to look at his door and another pang of anxiety hit him as he tried the handle, but it was like the door had changed to solid rock. No matter how he strained, it wouldn't budge.
He slid down, panting and leaning on the door. A single tear fell down his cheek. He tried to hold it back, but then a big sob rocked him. The world had changed. You could do good all your life, but one single act of weakness could destroy everything.
He heard a shout and raised his head. His eyes were blurry from the tears, so he wiped them with the back of his hand. He saw a young woman running toward him. She was shouting as she ran, but he couldn't make out the words she was saying. All he could see was the terror in her eyes, the tears streaming down her cheeks, and her breathing — it was coming out like someone who had been underwater for an hour.
He stood up and hurried toward her. His legs were shaky and he had no strength, but he couldn't see a woman in distress and do nothing. Soon he was running too. When he was getting near her, he heard what she was shouting: "Find somewhere and hide! The beast is coming!"
He stopped in his tracks and looked behind her. He saw nothing but a dark cloud in the distance. The young woman reached him and dragged him with her. He tried to look back as he followed her, but the road they were following sloped upward, and one wrong footing would make you slip — and whatever was coming would get to you.
The Bloodline Ledger
Subject: Cursed Visions, Devilish Heirs, & The Price of Sin
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