Polayna began to cry at the thought of what could be beyond that door. Hope, fear, insanity, pain, love…Every emotion rushed over her frail body. The door knob itself was inviting. To have human contact again made her smirk an almost crazy person’s smile. Flashes of past lovers embraces and family hugs rushed through her mind.

She had been wandering for so long she msut have trained herself to forget these memories. Her life felt like it had always included the giggles and voices of young girls, she had almost forgot that this was not true. She had memories, she had a life before this prison, she had forced all the memories out, but now all of them were rushing in like waves against well polished stones.

If she touched that knob, if she could open that door, could she be home? Could she see her mother’s warm smile and smell her cooking once again? Could she feel the warmth of freshly washed flannel sheets and smell that clean clothes line scent she so adored? Why were all these thoughts rushing in now after so long? Just then she realized something…the voices, the giggles, they had stopped. There was a glowing light that appeared around the edges of the big red door. Silence and light were never so inviting…

why all these thoughts of home would be flooding through her head. There was nothing behind this door and she knew it. The bright light became more intense as the door opened a little wider. The memories flooded into her mind and the bright light washed over her tired body. As the door opened wider, the light became more intense. And so did the memories. She could remember laying in her bed late at night, waiting for her father to get home from the factory. She could remember all the fighting in the next room…even though they thought they were being quiet. She remembered her mother…her protector. She remembered everything. All at once. It was all there in her mind as the tears began to flow down her cheeks and the door opened all the way. The light felt so warm and good. The light was comfortable. She was going to walk through the wide open door and into the light. This ship, the voices, the endless days walking through empty corridors…now she could leave it all behind. It was over. Her entire life packed into an eye blink as she stepped over the threshold and into the brightest light she had ever seen.

The memories stopped flooding. The light became dark. The red door closed behind her. Her mother was not here. And neither were her favorite cookies whose scent still lingered in her mind. It was dark and this wasn’t over at all.

She could hear his voice whispering in her ear. It sounded so close to her. And she knew that it was not. He was nowhere. She was in shock. The giggling girls began to tickle the insides of her ears. They giggled and he whispered…together. Her body curled up tighter as she began to shiver almost violently on the cold unforgiving concrete. This was all very wrong. But she wanted to listen to all the voices. They were comforting. They never left her. They were always there. The giggling girls weren’t so bad. They drove her crazy but they weren’t bad at all. And now he was back. She had not heard his dark little whisper since…since her father was alive. Where was it coming from. She had killed that voice many years ago and now he whispered…a faint backroud chorus to her happy giggling voices…”Poor Polayna…Poor, poor little Polayna Bunchnut…Daddys little girl…Daddys bad little girl…Polayna Juniper Bunchnut…My litle PB&J…why did you do this to me baby girl?” The whisper became a terrifying scream as the voice reverberated through her shivering head. “You’re a bad girl Polayna! What have you done!! Stop listening to the voices baby girl! Don’t listen to the happy girls. Listen to me!” She could not shake anymore. The cold was too much. The voices would not go way. He was right…poor poor polayna bunchnut was a bad girl. He was right about everything.

Polayna felt a warmth come over her suddenly. That same warmth she had felt years ago, actually right before her coming to this prison. That evil warmth. That warmth that felt like a blanket of terror yet made her grin and her eyes eclipse. That stern voice echoed in her head and the words repeated “poor poor polayna…what a bad girl.” She had forced this feeling way down in the bottom of her gut for so long. Her mind had not let her remember that cold winter day for so many years, but now she drew strength from it. She started to stand up, her body burning up. Yes, listen to the deep voice, hide the other voices. She swung at the air, “STOP,” she yelled out. Suddenly the girls giggles were gone. The whisper grew louder, the evil tears started to fall. She couldn’t wipe the frightening grin off her face. It almost scared her how good this all felt. It was as if she had strength of a thousand men and her thoughts were clearer than ever. The light was getting brighter, the more Polayna moved around and the more she fed this evil the brighter the light. “Yes, Daddy…I’m still your little girl, come save me Daddy” was all she could speak. It was strange to hear her own voice after so long. “No stay away Daddy, I don’t want to hurt you again.” The voice coming from her mouth took two tones, as if two of her were battling inside. The good, the evil…they were fighting. The evil was winning though, yet again it was winning…

and both voices were gone. There was only one voice now. And it was hers. She wasn’t cold anymore at all. Poor Polayna was a bad girl. A very, very, bad girl. She was going to make this shit stop right here and right now. She spoke in a voice that she had never heard before. Nobody had. “I killed you for a reason Daddy. You can’t come back. Ever.”

Speaking his last words, her father whispered into her mind, “Yes I can. I’m inside of you. I’m part of you. You can’t escape me. I never left you.”

A wicked grin spread across her face as she felt him inside of her. She was becoming the evil that she feared the most…and she was loving every second of it. His dark laughter and the voices were swirling around in her mind as she stood on the cold concrete laughing maniacally. Who needed those stupid giggling little girls. She had him. And his hate and his anger…and his drive to kill…to take what was hers.

At that moment, she knew that whoever was doing this to her…whoever had put her in this place to begin with…was going to get a huge helping of whip ass stew. Courtesy of dear old daddy and his wonderfully evil genes. She walked down the concrete path standing tall and afraid of nothing. She was going to find out who was resonposible and put the belt to their sorry asses post haste!

Just then a snippet of a memory rushed in her head and back out again. A boy, a young boy..who was it? There it was again. She wanted to grab the memory and hold it in her hand and study the picture. She put her hands on her head and shook it back and forth. Half of her mad and wanting to keep walking, running to that damn light. The other half wanting to know what memory was trying to come forward now. As she ran, or leaped was more like it the memory lasted a bit longer with each leap. It was her brother. She had a brother. Why did her father favor her over him? Why was he so mean to him? Why did he treat him like that and keep the two of them apart. Or so he thought. Polayna had snuck to his room when she heard him crying at night, she had comforted him, she had been the only loving touch he had ever felt. Why? She stopped. Ah, yes her mother…her mother the protector. The protector of her. But she was the mother of two children. Why were they so disappointed in Max? What made him so threatening? Now she grew more angry, she began to run again, it was all coming back to her. She had to protect Max, she had to kill her father. “Thank you daddy for being so cruel and making your death so easy,” she said with that evil grin.
She felt the rage inside take over, she even started to groan a bit, letting out the anger further and further. Damn them, damn them all!
The light grew closer and closer, she felt like busting right through it, whatever ‘it’ was. All of a sudden she had the dull instrument in her hand, the one she used that night so long ago. Now she was confused. What was happening? Where is Max? She had to get to Max, now that was the most important thing in the world. She had a reason now to escape. Whatever this place or dream or thing was, she had to break out, she had to get to Max, she was his only hope. She ran faster and faster, she was running so hard her feet were numb from the cold concrete and constant running. Max…Max….Max?

There she stood with her feet freezing on the hard black concrete. She could feel the weight of the baseball bat gripped in her right hand. Starring into the light ahead, all she could think about was her baby brother…Max.

His face was always a little too round for his age and his eyes were more green than anything else. On his left cheek was beauty mark that would make Cindy Crawford proud. His greenish eyes always looked like he was smiling just a little bit…even when he was angry. And his chestnut hair was always three cuts past due.

Mom and Dad hated him. Tears popped from her eyes as she looked into the light without blinking, with no fear. The tears flowed as she thought of all the hatred inside of her father…inside of her now. Her younger brother was different. He could do things…and her father hated him for it. Even her mother couldn’t hold back his rage when Max would decide to use his gift. She looked down at the heavy wood bat. It was still bloody…from that night.

Thank you daddy. One clean blow to the head..HOME RUN! out of the park! Two vertebrae smashed clean through. His neck was broken before he could feel any pain. It would have been so clean…so clean. But he lay there…with a crushed spinal column and a half crushed wind pipe…wheasing and gasping for air…”Polaaaayna!...You are. a very very …bad little giiiirl” It rattled out of him in harsh gargled whispers. She stood with the bloody bat and memories of daddy. She stood IN the light, thinking of Max and how she did it for him…all for him.

She looked into the blue light coming from the old bulb in the corner of the basement. She spun around to see her little brother reaching for her. Her mind was playing tricks on her. How could he be here in this prison? How could she be..be..in her basement? She looked at Max who was holding a tray of food…”Max..I have to save you.” She collapsed on the concrete floor of the basement. Max set the tray down and looked at sister. He cried. She had no idea what reality was or wasn’t. She was catatonic now…locked inside her own head with nobody else for company. She had been staring into the naked, dangling, light bulb for three days – Her food uneaten and her cot unslept on.

Polayna lay on the cold concrete path hungry and missing Max. She could almost hear his voice…through all the others as she looked into the light with her eyes wide open.

in the grey cinder block wall. The cement had chipped away enough over the years to give her a daily ray of hope…a small whiff of pure life from the neighborhood beyond. School girls screamed their cruel haikus in ears. She screamed with them while her fingers jammed themselves into the jagged crack. Her fingers began to bleed. A small chip of bloody cement fell to the floor next to her cot.

She stood up on the cold path and looked around. Where had this blood come from. Her left hand was covered with it and the path was sprinkled with her dark crimson stains. The haikus continued in her ears as she walked forward towards the light. The light was moving as she got closer to it. She reached for the light. She stood…arms open…reaching for the light.

The smell of burning blood permeated the room while the naked,dangling bulb cooked her bloody finger prints. She stood transfixed. Smelling her burning fluid and smiling into the light.

Polayna freaked out. She grabbed the bloody bat and scrambled up the ladder. All of her weight slammed against the wood door. She could feel the pressure against the other side give way. The door burst open and Polyana was free. Dust covered sheets were draped over everything in the house. The yellow police tape still surrounded the kitchen…the spattered blood sprinkles were still splashed across the white refrigerator door. The bat felt heavy in her hand. The whispers started in her head….”We love you Polayna..we love you…don’t leave us now. Stay with us.” She ran.

The front door cracked off its hinges against the weight of her small frame. She could have opened the door but smashing it in felt so much better. She felt alive. Strong. The cold winter air felt good against her sweaty body standing in the sticky, blood smeared sundress. A man rode up the street on his bike towards the old Bunchnut house. Time stretched out while Polayna looked at the man riding slowly…her father. It couldn’t be her father. Somehow, she knew it was. Her fury released itself in a crazed, high pitched, wailing scream. She screamed as she ran down the driveway towards the man on the bike. He looked at her with terrified eyes as the bike wobbled and stopped in front of her house. He was the deer and she was the furious bright headlights bearing down on him with the weight of a car behind her.

She held the bat in both arms high over her head, swinging it straight back until touched her butt. The swing was deadly. His terrified expression was saved for eternity as the top of his head exploded under the blunt force of the bat. His body slumped off his bike and smacked into pavement. A small river of blood gushed from his massive head wound. Polayna felt good. Better than she had ever felt before. The power she felt now…she had vanquished her greatest foe. He would never hurt her again. She wanted the world to see this. It wasn’t robbers. It wasn’t Max. She did it. She was the killer now. She looked down and grabbed a small bunch of her sundress to wipe off the small chucks of brain left on the bat. She knelt next to him…his face locked in eternal dismay…his head half missing…and she kissed his cheek. The bat dragged heavy on the grass as she walked across her front yard towards the neighbors house.

I agree! this is almost at an end and a new one shall begin! :-)

I just thought the story was getting somewhere. That is what I like about doing this…if you don’t like the way the story is going…change it. (and everyone is perfectly free to not like the way the story is going) That is what’s fun…how the story shifts according to each persons taste at that moment. If no one really wants to change it…then feel free to start a new story and I will add to it! :0) I feel like stories don’t ever have to end. They just change and adapt to whoever is writing them.

Either way…I’ll add to what is written.

I think I am just at a ‘block’ right now…It’s been great and I want to continue and hope to write many many more stories like this with you and others!

I’m going to have to think about a response to your last entry though. I like how this story has changed and I still have no idea where it’s going!

Suddenly Polayna woke up as if out of a sound sleep while under water. Gasping for air she sit up and tried to shake the dream. The dreams were starting to scare her now. First a floating prison, then a secret basement and now…now…murder and death in general. Every night a new dream, a new vision. She knew there were things in her families past that she wasn’t clear on. Whispers here and there with mumbled words from distant family members and the towns people. Was it true, had her mother murdered?

She wished she knew her mother, even a picture would be nice. Lately she felt a connection to her mother even though she did not remember her. She felt like she was trying to contact her somehow. Why wouldn’t anyone talk to her about this?

She slowly climbed out of bed, not bothering with her slippers. She went to the hall bathroom and splashed cold water on her face. Trying to erase the images she had just dreamt about. That mans face was etched in her brain but who was he? Who was Max? Polayna was an only child and never heard anyone speak of an “Uncle Max”. As she looked in the mirror she noticed how tired she looked, drained. She had not felt herself for at least a week and had been spending nearly every hour in bed. Every hour in bed and dreaming; nonstop dreaming and tossing and turning. It was like a moving playing in her head and it felt so real.

She was pretty even with dark circles under her eyes. Her long red hair flowed down her back like cashmere locks. Her pajamas were cute and innocent, even for a 16 year old beauty. She smelled pancakes and slowly walked down the stairs, feeling the soft plush carpet almost squish between her toes. As she walked down the stairs she passed pictures of her winning awards for sports and academics along with family pictures showing how happy she was and the joy that surrounded her.

Her father was cooking breakfast and greeted her with a smile. “Morning daddy,” she said. “Sweetie what are you doing up, you should be in bed, I can bring breakfast up to you.” She wanted to ask him about her mother, but Pamela walked in and she didn’t want to make her uncomfortable. Pamela had raised Polayna from the age of three. She called her mom, and felt close enough to her, but not she imagined a real biological mother would feel. But Pamela was nice enough, she taught her womanly things and always had an ear for Polayna to talk away to. But this matter was a private matter, she needed to talk to her father alone.

“I feel a lot better daddy. I had a bad dream and just want to be up for awhile, maybe lay on the couch and rest.” Polayna loved her father very much, but knew he was keeping secrets, maybe to protect her, but it was time to find out these secrets and stop these dreams.

Polayna sat in the meticulous living room with her father. He said he had something important to talk to her about after breakfast. Even better, he wanted to talk to her alone. Without Pamela there, Polayna felt at ease expressing herself to her father. Across the room, the sun light played with the myriad glass figurines sitting lonely and dust free beneath the window sill.

She sat up straight on the overstuffed pink love seat. “Daddy, I have been having these dreams. Horrible dreams about killing a man on a bike and floating prisons and voices in my head. I’m afraid to sleep anymore.”

Her father looked down at his black slippers for a long time before answering her. “Polayna, I have something to tell you. I have waited long enough and it’s obvious you are ready to hear this. Polayna you a dreamworker. I am too. You have a gift. We have a gift.”

“What’s a dreamworker daddy? What does this have to do with my horrible dreams? I killed a man in my dream last night! And I enjoyed it! His face…it was so terrified.”

“Your mother and I wondered if you would have the gift too. It seems that you do.”

Polyana sat forward on the love seat. “Mama knew about this?! Why didn’t she ever talk to me about it?”

Ronald Bunchnut looked at his daughter long and hard before he answered. “Polyana honey, your mother wasn’t murdered. She killed herself. She wasn’t able to control her gift and eventually it controlled her.”

The shock was immediate. These dreams controlled Polayna now. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner? What is a dreamworker?”

“The Bunchnut family is the last in a long line of dreamworkers. You are the last woman left with the gift. Dreams are real Polayna. Everyone dreams. And everyone thinks that they are exactly that…dreams. They aren’t. One persons dreams are another persons reality. Always. Even the most wild dreams are true somewhere, someplace. Dreamworkers acknowledge and accept that everything they dream is happening somewhere. There is so much evil and so much hurt in this world that your mother couldn’t deal with it anymore. She never learned to work her dreams.”

This was too much information to process so Polayna didn’t try. She just asked more questions. “What do you mean “work” her dreams?”

“Being a dreamworker is not enough. Generations of us have come and gone but only a choice few learn to control it. To use it. That dream you had last night…about the man on the bike…somewhere that was happening while you dreamed it.”

The thought of bludgeoning someone to death with a baseball bat made her sick. An uncontrolled stream of steamy breakfast flew from her mouth onto the plush pink carpet. Someone, somewhere died last night. And she saw it.

“Polayna, I know how strange this is for you. But let me tell you…you can control these dreams. You can change them. Have you ever had dreams about places or things that don’t seem to be from this planet?”

She wiped the corners of her mouth tasting used pancakes and contemplating voiding the last of her breakfast onto the living room floor. Her father was totally unphased by the runny pancake chunks on the floor. “Yes, I had dreams about some sort of spaceship prison with voices screaming poetry at me. That can’t be real.”

“It is honey. Somewhere, someplace, that is really happening. And you can change it Polayna. You can make a difference to those people in your dreams. If you learn to control your gift.”

She sat in her disbelief. She could have saved the man on the bike.