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墨書 Inktalez
Ethan wrapped himself in a towel, still feeling the warmth of the hot water lingering on his skin. Stepping out of the bathroom, he walked barefoot across the wooden floor, feeling its chill contrasting sharply with the heat enveloping him, which helped to awaken his senses. He shook his head lightly, trying to cast aside the strange illusion that had just haunted him.
Approaching the small bar in his home, he opened the liquor cabinet and took out a bottle of aged whiskey. The bottle glimmered with a tawny hue, seemingly emitting a low invitation for him to find a moment of relief in this brief tranquility. He skillfully poured himself a glass, the amber liquid gently swirling within, flickering softly under the light.
Ethan gazed down at the whiskey, its golden liquid swaying like a river of gold in the glass, reflecting the turmoil within him. He knew he needed to relax; no matter what, the earlier experience could not be easily erased. He required some time and space to gather his thoughts, and at this moment, that glass of whiskey seemed to be the only thing that could offer him a fleeting sense of peace.
He raised the glass to his lips, taking a deep breath before gently swirling the liquid inside. The spicy aroma of the whiskey filled his nostrils, bringing with it a familiar warmth and stimulation. This sensation felt as if it were slowly pulling him away from his taut nerves. Ethan understood that the numbing effect of alcohol could temporarily dull the tension strung tight by fear and anxiety.
"It's time to relax..." he whispered to himself before downing the whiskey in one go. The fiery liquid rushed down his throat, burning as it slid past his vocal cords, quickly spreading warmth through his nasal passages and stimulating his senses. That intense feeling momentarily clouded all his thoughts, easing some of the tension swirling in his mind.
He set the empty glass down heavily on the bar, breathing slightly heavier. The numbing sensation from the alcohol spread through his limbs, offering him a semblance of relaxation; although the fear within him had not completely vanished, that oppressive feeling seemed temporarily subdued. He closed his eyes and allowed the spicy warmth to flow through his body as if searching for an exit to release his tightly wound nerves.
Taking another deep breath, he felt that tightness in his chest finally ease a little.
Ethan placed the whiskey glass down firmly; it clinked softly against the bar. He felt the alcohol's numbing effects coursing through him as that persistent tension began to wane. With alcohol taking hold, his thoughts became hazy but still tinged with unease. He slowly walked toward the bedside, treading lightly so as not to disturb Sofia, who was already fast asleep.
Standing at her bedside, he focused on Sofia's sleeping figure. She lay there peacefully, her breathing steady and her expression serene, seemingly unaware of Ethan's inner turmoil at that moment. However, a flicker of unease crept into Ethan's heart. He tried to suppress that discomfort, reminding himself that there was nothing wrong with Sofia’s face; yet that bizarre and twisted visage continued to haunt him like a ghost in his mind.
He bit down on his lip, resisting the urge to look at her face again for fear of encountering that indescribable horror once more. The terror from that fleeting moment remained etched deeply in his heart, making it impossible for him to shake off. Ethan slowly closed his eyes and reminded himself: "Don't think too much; it's all just an illusion... just an illusion." He repeated this mantra in his mind, attempting to use reason to quell the rising tide of fear.
Gently lifting the covers, he carefully lay down, moving cautiously as if afraid to break the night's tranquility. Resting his head on the pillow, he stared at the ceiling; though exhausted, he still couldn't fully calm himself. The soft yellow light from above cast a tranquil glow throughout the room, yet Ethan's eyes remained wide open with anxiety, unable to focus. The contours of the ceiling gradually blurred in his vision as his thoughts began to drift away; everything around him became indistinct.
He lay there as his breathing gradually slowed and deepened, allowing that focus within him to dissipate little by little. The fatigue brought on by alcohol finally began to erode his consciousness, leaving him too weary to continue thinking. As his gaze lost its focus entirely, the outlines above faded completely from view; Ethan's awareness was overwhelmed by heavy drowsiness. His body relaxed as taut nerves finally found brief respite; he sank deeply into slumber as if all fears had been pressed down into obscurity for now.
Ethan awoke from a heavy slumber, and the moment he opened his eyes, his heart tightened. The scene before him was not the familiar comfort of his bedroom, but a place he knew all too well yet feared immensely—the small wooden cabin, the home from his childhood memories. He lay on a rickety wooden bed, surrounded by an atmosphere that exuded the musty scent of aged wood, as if time had come to a standstill here.
The walls of the cabin were mottled, with faint light seeping through the cracks. Old furniture was scattered around, dust covering every surface, and the air carried a stale odor. Outside the window was a dim night, resembling an abyss that could never be illuminated. This was the place he had dreamt of countless times during his childhood, where those haunting memories he had desperately tried to forget now unfolded vividly before him once more.
A wave of uncontrollable fear surged within Ethan. He knew this was a dream, yet the vividness of it made it impossible to dismiss. He realized he was trapped in some bizarre predicament from which he could not easily escape. "No... this isn't real... it's just my dream!" He tried to suppress his rising panic, shouting at himself, his voice echoing hollowly in the cabin.
"Hey! This is my dream; I can control it!" Ethan yelled loudly, attempting to break free from the confines of the nightmare. But no matter how much he shouted, the surroundings remained unchanged; the darkness in the cabin felt suffocating, as if the entire space were ensnared in an inescapable cage.
His fear intensified, and he could no longer endure this strange sensation. He began to slap his cheeks forcefully, trying to awaken himself through pain. His palms struck his face repeatedly, sharp jolts of pain radiating throughout his body, yet he still could not escape. The dream persisted; the walls of the small cabin loomed around him as if mocking all his efforts.
"Damn it! Wake up!" Ethan cried out while slapping his face and frantically glancing around. Every corner felt so familiar, so real. This dream had completely taken control of him; he could neither manage nor break free from it. Even the pain within this nightmare felt achingly real. The inescapable fear weighed heavily on his chest like iron, leaving him breathless.
He felt trapped in this dreamscape, losing grip on reality. This was not an ordinary dream but a nightmare that materialized his deepest fears; he could neither escape nor awaken. Each slap seemed only to pull him deeper into that dark abyss.
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