Wonshik groaned.

It felt as if they’d been walking forever, all the while Jaehwan kept a distance several feet in front of him. There was now an overcast of clouds, making the once tranquil atmosphere placid and eerie. A thick mist rolled over the lake and surrounded them, hiding their path. Still, Jaehwan continued to walk, unphased by his obscured pathway.

Frustrated, Wonshik could only follow, the most solitary thing visible being Jaehwan’s back as they trekked in complete silence.

“So,” he began, attempting to break it, “when you said we were going to find answers, what did you mean?”

Jaehwan said nothing, his pastel robes gliding across the wooden planks of the bridge like a phantom. It seemed to stretch on forever, deep into the mist before them, and the mystery of it haunted Wonshik with every audible breath he took. His footsteps seemed to echo, bouncing off of invisible walls and hitting his ears with a clack, shaking his mind as his trepidation grew.

Wonshik quickened his pace, but without an ounce of effort, Jaehwan maintained their distance.

All Wonshik wanted was to go home. All he wanted was to hold his mother close and assure her that he was fine. But now, it felt as if he’d been led from one puzzle to another in this chaotic dreamland.

“Answer me!”

Wonshik started to chase Jaehwan, but he remained distant, ever so silently and effortlessly. He glided forward like mist itself, his robes curling and coiling with the wind.

Wonshik felt like he was running after a shadow, a silhouette of someone he thought was there who was now leading him deeper into the fog.

“You were supposed to help me Damnit!”

Still worn out from the previous chase. It didn’t take much for him to buckle.

Wonshik fell to his hands and knees, his temples throbbing and his heart pounding as he gasped for air. He felt entirely depleted, more than he’d ever been in his entire life.

Why couldn’t he go home? Why was this dream so lucid, so real, so Impossible to escape?

Wonshik…Wonshik-ah….

His eyes widened at the sound of his name. It was his mother’s voice, so loud and clear as if she was standing beside him. He quickly looked around. There was nothing but the fog, thick and looming wherever he turned, and even Jaehwan had vanished in the thick of it.

Wonshik scrambled to his feet, frantic as he breathlessly searched for something, anything that could lead him away from this trap. Even the ground he stood on was consumed by the fog. It was as if the bridge itself was fading out of existence.

“Son…my boy…oh God, please give him back!”

“Mom!”

His own voice came back in ripples of different pitches dancing around in the darkness.

“Mom…Mom….”

Wonshik swiveled left and right as his voice echoed about, the very timber of it changing, becoming distorted and foreign to him. A million voices in the dark. A haunting melody composed of his mother’s cries and several voices mocking his fear.

A nightmare within a dream within a nightmare.

That’s what this was, and Wonshik was stuck in it. It was the worse thing his mind could conceive and it was happening to him now. Everything he knew was fiction and every fiction was horror. Every step forward was a step back and every step back took him to the beginning.

What could he do to reach the end? What could he do to at least bask in the portions of this nightmare that were warm and soft and too fantastical to be true?

“Jaehwan!” he called out, the voices stirring in mimicked taunts.

It was desperate and needy and his exhausted mind could cling to nothing but that familiar warmth and the sweet scent of peaches and cherry blossoms. He had been the only glimmer of light in this realm of lies and darkness. But now, even Jaehwan had vanished and was nowhere to be found. All the while, the disturbing voices pecked at the final crumbs of his sanity.

Son, my son…come back…God please…”

Wonshik clutched his head and screamed, tears streaming down his cheeks to his trembling lips. He’d do anything to get out of here. Anything to snap into consciousness where he could wake up in his bed and hear the sound of his father’s booming voice, a reminder that he was home and could walk down to the kitchen and hold his frail mother in his protective arms.

Wonshik recoiled, laying on his side with his knees held against his chest. He could see nothing but the mist, consuming all and creeping around him as he lay helpless on the wooden planks. Everything hurt and nothing could drown out the daunting echoes created of his own wrecked voice as his phantom mother cried out for him.

His eyes felt heavy, threatening to close. So hopeless and desperate; he could bare this no longer. He cried aloud, not recognizing the broken sound that escaped his parted lips, his eyes drooped, threatening to close as he prayed for just a moment of silence in the chaos.

As his eyes finally came to a close and the cold darkness surrounded him, the voices ceased their mockery and all faded into a haze of uncertainty. All the while, a figure crept behind his helpless form, taking pity upon him, and shielded him from the enveloping mist.

.......

A/N: I feel like I’m still stumbling through this story. After a major death in my life, years of mental distress and instability, and recent racially charged events (I’m black), it’s hard to have energy left to write anything. On top of that, I’m not sure how obvious it was, but even though I have a general sense of where I want this story to go: I really didn’t plan it out. I want to apologize to those of you who have followed this fanfic and even those who are new to it. I truly love writing this fiction. It is a welcome reprieve from all that encompasses my life experience. However, it would not surprise me if I struggle with this forever or go on another lengthy hiatus or even stop one day. I truly hope this journey has been a good one regardless of my lack of guarantee. Thank you for your patience and understanding. Please take care everyone. Love you <3