The Chloe's First Dream
2nd part of the book “Those Eyes Behind The Glass Door”
1 part you can find here: The Hard Truths of Growing Up
Chloe dismissed it as mere exhaustion the first time it happened. After a long, grueling day filled with endless meetings, a cascade of emails, and the polite smiles she wore like armor, she collapsed into bed, too drained to think. Sleep enveloped her quickly, and with it came the dream.
She walked through a park that felt oddly familiar, like a place from her childhood. The air was crisp, infused with the earthy scent of damp leaves. Trees swayed gently in the breeze, their branches casting long, dancing shadows on the path ahead. The stillness wrapped around her like a comforting blanket for a fleeting moment, as if the world had paused just for her.
But as she ventured deeper down the path, the atmosphere shifted. The air grew heavier and colder, pressing against her skin like an unseen weight. The soft rustle of leaves transformed into sharp whispers, as though the trees were sharing secrets meant only for them. Chloe’s steps slowed, an inexplicable unease knotting in her stomach.
Then, she saw it—the forest ahead.
It sprawled before her, a dark tangle of trees so thick that the moonlight barely penetrated the canopy. The entrance loomed like an open mouth, its edges blurred in shadow. A sense of foreboding washed over her; the air inside felt different, colder still, and the scent of dampness intensified, almost suffocating. Chloe hesitated, her instincts tugging her back, but something—a pull she couldn’t name—urged her forward.
With every step, her heart raced faster. She reassured herself that it was just a forest, nothing to fear, yet her palms grew damp, and her breath came in shallow bursts. The path narrowed, and the trees pressed closer, their branches arching overhead like a cathedral of shadows.
That’s when she heard it.
Footsteps.
They weren’t hers.
Chloe froze, her breath catching in her throat. The footsteps halted too, just a beat too late, as if whoever—or whatever—was behind her hadn’t expected her to notice. She turned, but the only company she found was the shadows stretching long and dark across the ground.
“Just your imagination,” she whispered to herself. But as she quickened, the footsteps resumed closer this time.
Fear gripped her. She didn’t dare look back. Her heart hammered in her chest, her legs trembling as she ran desperately. Heavy boots echoed behind her, growing louder with each frantic step.
When her apartment building finally came into view, relief surged through her. She sprinted up the steps, slammed the door behind her, and locked it with trembling hands. Pressing her back against the door, she listened intently.
The footsteps stopped outside.
And then, the knock.
It was slow, deliberate, each thud reverberating through her body. Chloe squeezed her eyes shut, willing herself to wake up. But the knocking continued, relentless and unhurried.
When she finally forced her eyes open, she was in her bed, drenched in sweat. The room was silent, yet her heart still raced. She checked the lock on her apartment door twice that night, convincing herself it was just a dream.
But deep down, she knew it was more than just a dream. It felt too real, too vivid, as if the footsteps were still echoing in her ears, leaving a lingering chill that refused to fade.
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P.S.
“Either My Son Or Nobody” is now available in a third edition, only in digital formats.
"Those Eyes Behind The Glass Door" is available, too.
I do not have paperbacks.
Contact me at liudmila.books@gmail.com for a special price to purchase my stories specifying your preferred file format. I answer in one working day typically.
I can add dedication on request.
