Elias Trent's fingertips hovered above the keyboard, the blinking cursor waiting patiently on the empty page. The light from his desk lamp cast a soft glow across the dimly lit room, illuminating stacks of papers, a half-empty cup of coffee, and the faint smell of ink from his typewriter. It had been hours since he'd last felt truly awake, but the words hadn't come. He had been staring at the same sentence for what felt like days, the pressure of deadlines sinking deeper into his bones.
His eyes were heavy, but his mind was restless. Another day of struggling to piece together his next book—a thriller, something that might actually sell. But something was different tonight. The words, the ideas—they weren't coming. Instead, all he could think of was the strange dream from a week ago.
He ran a hand through his disheveled hair and let out a sigh.
As he sank back in his chair, his eyelids fluttered, and the world around him began to fade.
---
Elias stood at the edge of a vast field, the grass gently swaying in the wind. It was nighttime, but the sky shimmered with a soft, unnatural glow. He could hear distant sounds, muffled voices, but none of them seemed to come from anywhere close. He looked around, but there was no one to be seen. The landscape stretched endlessly in every direction.
He wanted to speak, to call out for help, but his mouth was dry, and no words came. He tried again—nothing. It was like his voice had been stolen.
Then, from the corner of his vision, a figure appeared. A woman, standing just out of reach. Her face was obscured by shadows, but Elias could feel her presence, like a weight in the air. He tried to move toward her, but his body wouldn't cooperate. His limbs felt heavy, as though they weren't his own.
"Do you know who I am?" the woman's voice asked, but it wasn't a simple question. It was a plea. Her voice cracked, like a broken record skipping over the same sound again and again, yet there was a certain clarity to it too. An urgency.
Elias tried to answer, but still, his mouth refused to move. His mind raced with thoughts he couldn't express. He wanted to shout, to demand answers, but the words never left his mind.
"I'm here because you asked," she continued, her voice wavering, now clear, then distant. "You've been reaching out. Do you feel it? The pieces of your own past… or your future? It's all connected. Everything you need is already within you."
Elias could see her mouth moving, but all he could hear were fragments, pieces of her words breaking and reforming in his mind. Each fragment was like a whisper, like something he was meant to understand but couldn't quite grasp.
The woman's figure shifted. He saw flashes of images—a child in a hospital bed, a glowing machine in a dark room, a clock ticking backward.
"Remember, Elias. You are the key," her voice echoed, now distant and fading. "You've been chosen to change it all."
Then, just as quickly as she had appeared, the woman vanished into the shadows. The landscape shifted, blurring like watercolors bleeding into one another, and Elias fell to his knees, gasping for breath. His heart raced in his chest, but no matter how hard he tried to speak, the words were trapped in his throat.
---
Elias woke with a jolt. His hand was still resting on the keyboard, but his face was pressed against the cold surface of the desk. He blinked rapidly, disoriented, the remnants of the dream still swirling in his mind like smoke.
He reached for the glass of water beside him, but his throat felt dry, raw, as if he'd been screaming in his sleep. His hands trembled slightly as he took a sip, the cold water offering little relief.
What was that? He didn't know what to make of it, but the dream—the woman's voice—it felt real. Too real.
He rubbed his eyes, trying to push away the lingering fragments of the dream, but it wouldn't leave. The image of the woman, her face hidden from him, haunted him. He had no idea who she was, or why she had spoken to him. Her words, the cryptic message about the pieces of his past and future, felt like a riddle he couldn't solve.
Elias glanced at the clock. It was 3:47 a.m.
He'd been sitting there for hours, unable to sleep, yet here he was again—wide awake, caught between the fading remnants of the dream and the harsh light of reality. It was like a puzzle, each fragment of the dream fitting together just out of reach.
Shaking his head, he stood up, trying to shake off the feeling of disorientation. He knew he had to get back to work, but the words wouldn't come. They never did after a dream like that.
But as he walked to the window and looked out over the city, he couldn't shake the feeling that the dream was more than just a random figment of his imagination. It felt like something was calling to him. Something he had yet to understand.
And somehow, he knew that this was just the beginning.
---
The days passed, and Elias tried to push the dream to the back of his mind. But it lingered, like an itch he couldn't scratch, and with each passing day, it grew more persistent. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw fragments of the dream—the woman, her voice, the cryptic words.
Then, exactly one week later, it happened again.
He found himself back in that strange field, under the same glowing sky, standing in front of the faceless woman. This time, he could hear her more clearly, her voice no longer breaking. But still, he couldn't speak.
"I've been waiting," she whispered, her tone more urgent now. "You've come back. Do you understand now? It's all connected. Your memories, your future… everything."
Elias's pulse quickened, but the words in his mind remained trapped, like a wall he couldn't break through. He was desperate to say something, anything, but all he could do was listen.
"You are the key," she repeated, her voice fading as the dream began to dissolve again.
And this time, Elias didn't wake up.
---
Elias jolted awake, his heart hammering in his chest. The weight of the dream still lingered, more real than any other dream he'd ever had.
He looked around his room, the quiet of the early morning settling in. The remnants of the dream were still fresh in his mind, like pieces of a puzzle scattered just out of reach.
The same woman. The same voice.
And the same cryptic message.
Elias swallowed hard. He didn't know what any of it meant, but he couldn't shake the feeling that something—someone—was trying to tell him something important.
His life was about to change, and he could feel it in the pit of his stomach.
He didn't know how, or why, but he knew one thing for sure.
The fragments of yesterday were calling. And Elias Trent would have to listen.
---