His eyes struggled to open as a burning feeling filled his vision. The cold air made him shiver...
After a while, his eyes adjusted enough to see what had happened.
"Oh, I get it now. I'm dreaming. I mean—I have to be," the boy muttered in a monotone voice.
Cory found himself in a prison cell that looked as if it had been abandoned for years.
The rust-covered cell was a brownish-orange. Water droplets trickled down the walls, and the buzzing of the illuminated yellow light panel polluted his ears. Every few moments, the light would flicker off, then on, repeating in a random cycle.
A torn, plain-white mattress sat on the left side of the cell. There was no toilet or desk. It was dark—too dark to see beyond the bars. Everything outside the cell was pitch black.
To the right, a rusted sheet-metal sign read:
Cory Ashworth – 2B
The eerie silence, paired with the buzzing light, sent chills through Cory's spine. But the fact that he knew it was a dream kept him sane.
He tried to stand but was immediately pulled back down.
His right hand was handcuffed to the back wall of the cell. The other end of the cuff was locked through a rusted handle that looked barely attached.
"That handle doesn't look too sturdy," he muttered. "Maybe I can break free if I pull hard enough."
Cory gripped his right wrist with his left hand and began to pull. The metal screeched. After a bit more effort, the handle gave way, and the cuff snapped loose.
The part attached to his wrist somehow also unlocked, as if the mechanism would unlock upon breaking free.
A teenager in this situation might've felt panic, or even terror. But Cory felt something strange—a lingering sense of safety, like the room was protecting him.
He stood and dusted himself off.
Cory slowly looked around, taking in the room again. The mattress was worn to the point of being shredded, its foam leaking out in small patches. The cell bars caught his attention. He stepped around the mattress and grabbed them.
Incase of the off chance that the gate is unlocked, Cory tried to open it.
The gate stayed shut.
"It's too dark to make anything out. I'll investigate the cell for a little while longer."
He thought the setting was strange for a dream. He'd had stranger, sure—but something about this felt too real.
Cory experienced lucid dreams often. Controlling your dreams and knowing you're inside one was a rare skill, but he'd practiced for years. With enough time and the right methods, anyone could do it.
Although, just because you're aware of your dream world...Doesn't always mean you're the one in control.
Shatter!
Blackout.
The light vanished in an instant. Glass scattered across the floor.
Cory froze.
He was... afraid.
Heavy breathing filled the ringing silence. Steam rose from his mouth with each trembling exhale.
The presence—the safe warmth from the light—was gone.
Something was wrong.
His chest tightened.
Danger was approaching.
A sound broke the silence.
Clang.
Then, a long metallic groan—like rusted iron bending under pressure.
Another step.
Clang... creak.
It was getting closer.
Cory backed away from the bars, breath shallow.
Clang... creak... clang... creak...
The sound stopped—just outside the cell.
Something was slipped through the bars. It rolled slowly across the floor.
Cory couldn't see it.
He crouched and swept the cold concrete with his hands until he touched something solid and cold.
It felt like a small metal cylinder.
He turned it over, feeling its shape. Near one end was a small button below a cup-shaped surface.
He pressed it.
A white beam of light cut through the darkness.
A pocket flashlight?
Did someone give it to me—on purpose?
I need to wake up from this nightmare...
After he sat the flashlight in a pocket on the right side of his chest, Cory began to think of ways he could get out of his cell.
He pointed the light down the corridor outside.
The sight alone made his stomach sink — something he wasn't ready to see.
Blood trailed along the second floor of the hallway where his cell was.
The smell blended with the rusty iron, so it had gone unnoticed until now.
Instinctively, Cory took a few steps back, like he wanted to forget what he'd just seen.
Frightened for his life, he whispered, "This is all so wrong..."
No lucid dream of Cory's were able to make him feel this tense.
This was no longer just a dream...
He took a brief moment to fully accept his situation.
Although Cory was afraid, he was determined to escape this dream-like reality and get back home. Quite a challenging task, considering the cell gate was locked — and that was seemingly the only way out.
Cory examined the room once again.
To fully understand the situation, he said aloud what he saw, in order:
"A mattress, a sign with my name and cell block number, along with the broken chain."
He stepped toward the mattress and inspected it, hoping to gather any new information. But in all honesty, the mattress couldn't have looked more ordinary — despite the tearing, which looked like it came from something unknown.
An idea formed.
Cory dragged the mattress aside, hoping to expose anything underneath.
A wooden trapdoor was found, hidden under the mattress.
There were four small square holes in the center, allowing Cory to see a ladder reaching down into another cell on the first floor.
The handle was rough, with sharp splinters sticking out of it. Cory placed both hands on it and pulled.
It didn't move.
"Shit," he moaned in frustration.
He kicked the trapdoor as hard as he could, but it didn't budge.
A key slot sat on the bottom right corner of the door.
"There's gotta be another way out. I need to look around some more."
The metal sign was the only other object of significance in the cell.
Cory walked over to it, searching for anything useful.
It was bent slightly to the left, as if something had once held it straight.
A screw was bolted in tightly on the right. The left side had only a hole — where another screw clearly used to be.
He forced the sign down, pulling the left side to the right until it stood vertical.
Cory discovered a small, secret space about ten centimeters in width.
It contained a metal key that looked about the same size as the key slot in the trapdoor.
"This has to open it... It has to."
Just as he picked up the key, an alarm went off.
The blaring sound frightened Cory.
Clang... creak... clang... creak...
But faster, and more abundant.
Many pairs of footsteps were running back and forth across the corridor.
Cory, frozen in place, slowly moved his body in the direction of the cell bars.
The footsteps stopped, but the alarm did not.
Something was looking into Cory's cell.
It was human.
At least, most of it was...