The Scent Of Horror

A group of my fellow high school students is spending a few days at a retreat in the hills. There is a mine track rollercoaster that tours guests through the woodland ridges. My brother-in-law built the coaster and tells me it's dangerous. A few of us pile in a cart and start up the giant hill. When we get to the top, there is another small hill before the significant drop. Joseph, the teenager, sitting next to me, leans back exaggeratedly far. He doesn't see the next hill coming. When the cart takes the mound, Joseph's head hits the track, and he begins to fall out. I try to pull him back inside, but it's too late. Joseph lies on the route with a severe head injury. The cart malfunctions and starts rolling backward. Joseph is run over. He is dead. While in shock, I try to call Chad to inform him of the situation. I tell him to stop the mine carts on the track. My frantic fingers cannot find his number in my phone. The next cart rolls along and runs over Joseph's body. I see Chad standing on a boulder. I inform him of our situation. The roller coaster comes to a standstill. We get off of the ride.

"This ride is dangerous!" I yell to Chad. Heated, he yells, "I told you it was dangerous!"

Standing on the ground, I can see paramedics carrying joseph's body down on a gurney. I can't look. I turn and walk away. As dusk approaches, most of the guests have left the retreat. I call my mom and ask her to pick me up. I'm standing next to a cabin where the female guests stayed. A car pulls up. I assume a guest is picking up their belongings, so I walk away. As the sky is dark and the retreat is still, my mom shows up. Chad tells her what happened. While the scent of horror is still in the air, we drive home.

I wake up

Respect the Wind

A Dream From The Past

My mom and I talk about a paradise that we have visited. A perfect place, except for the many days of rain. I can't recall the name, but it sounds like Hawaii.

We move to Las Vegas. This is the paradise that we believed in, although, the place we described was quite different.

I stand outside in the front yard when off in the distance, I see a black tornado. It isn't clear yet whether the twister is coming our way. I run inside and tell my mom of the storm. My mom, a kid, named Joseph, and I run down into the basement. My sister Kristen is asleep in her bedroom, which is at the entry to the basement. My mom tries to convince her to wake up to avoid the danger. She stays in bed.

While hiding in the corner of the basement, I can hear the tornado getting louder. It is very close to our house. I run to my sister's room and yell at her to get up. To seek shelter. Once again, she declines until she hears the sound of the storm tearing her room apart. She sees how important the situation has become and decides to seek shelter, but it is too late. The black tornado sucks her out of her bedroom window. The rest of us hide.

When the storm is over, we turn into an Italian family. My name is probably Vinny Santoro or something like that. A family friend comes over to ask a favor. He wants to rebuild my sisters demolished bedroom. For how much? He says, $25,000.00. My little Italian brother, standing next to me, assumes that mom will never go for that. I tell him to let me talk to mom and see what I can do. The family friend is pleased.

I walk into my deceased sister's room. Everything is painted white. Glass cupboards and shelves are everywhere. One of our cleaning ladies, an older woman, is in one of the cabinets working. A young cleaning lady walks in. I go to her, and we embrace. I begin to cry. Dream ends.

I wake up