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  • Writer's pictureSiheli Siyathra

Net Of The Dreamweaver

As soon as I fell asleep, it began.

I was in the middle of a large labyrinth that twisted and turned in every direction. I recognized it: it was the same maze I had drawn back when I still played ‘Starboardia.’ It was a game in which you created a maze and gave it to your opponent. He or she had to figure a way out. The important thing was, I knew the way.

I began to run, hoping that I wouldn’t meet the horror that guarded the maze. The walls blazed with hieroglyphs. The tunnels narrowed as I got closer to the exit. Shadows flitted across the walls. Bats flew over my head. My footsteps echoed. Still, I ran ahead, afraid to stop and hear the silence. The maze was unlike any other structure I’d been in. Buildings were supposed to be lifeless. But the maze… it seemed to have a partly awake consciousness; a life force of its own. I cursed my imagination. Why did it have to be so vivid?

At last, I saw the exit. I ran for it. I was a few feet away when my worst fears came true. The Dreamweaver materialized before me, looking exactly like I remembered. He looked human enough, but any sane person could sense he wasn’t. He couldn’t be seen properly, couldn’t be described. Even standing before him threatened to shatter my mind. In one hand, he held a crystal scepter. In the other, the Net of Insanity. It was a net the Dreamweaver had woven. Anything that touched the net would be ripped of its sanity.

Instantly, I knew it was over. After the Net hit me, I would spend the rest of my life wandering around aimlessly, unable to get out. The Dreamweaver threw the Net. As my mind collapsed, I woke up in bed.

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