Ansel stood in the middle of an unfamiliar event, surrounded by strangers. Not a single face was familiar to him. The air was filled with a mixture of floral scents and soft murmurs, but Ansel felt isolated, like an outsider in a world he didn't belong to.
To his right and left, rows of people sat neatly on polished wooden benches. They were dressed impeccably, men in tailored suits and women in elegant dresses, their colors ranging from pastel pinks to deep blues.
Directly in front of Ansel stood a magnificent floral gate, crafted from pure white lilies and delicate white roses. The flowers intertwine to form a perfect heart shape, symbolizing love and unity.
As he crossed the threshold, a gentle melody floated through the air, wedding music, sweet and solemn, played by a string quartet hidden somewhere beyond the crowd.
The realization dawned on him: he was at a wedding. Yet, despite the clarity of the moment, he had no idea whose wedding it was.
Ansel remained still, his heart pounding with a strange mixture of awe and confusion. His eyes scanned the scene carefully, taking in every detail.
The delicate laced on the bride's gown, the groom's nervous smile, the priest's serene expression. Slowly, he turned his body toward the altar, where the couple stood hand in hand.
The bride and groom were exchanging their vows, their voices trembling with emotion. The bride's eyes shimmered with tears of happiness, and the groom's grip tightened around her hands as he promised his lifelong devotion.
The priest's words echoed softly, blessing their union in front of the gathered guests. As the vows concluded, a wave of applause erupted from the crowd.
The clapping grew louder and louder, swelling like a tide that threatened to overwhelm Ansel.
The sound became unbearable. Ansel pressed his hands firmly against his ears, trying to block out the overwhelming noise. He even pushed his fingers deep into his ear canals, desperate for silence.
But the clapping only intensified, a relentless crescendo that seemed to pierce his skull.
Dizziness washed over him like a sudden storm. His vision blurred, colors bleeding into one another as his eyes struggled to focus.
His legs weakened, threatening to give way beneath him. The world tilted, and he felt himself slipping into darkness. Just as he was about to collapse, the clapping abruptly ceased.
The sudden silence was profound, almost deafening in its stillness. The crowd's cheers vanished, leaving only a heavy, expectant quiet hanging in the air.
He was still at the wedding, yet something about the silence felt ominous, as if the moment held a secret yet to be revealed.
He put off his hand from his ear. He opened his eyes and looked around. He was very surprised by what happened. It was as time had stopped. Everything looked like a statue and didn't move at all.
"What is this? What happened? No… this isn't me, I didn't do anything. Not me." Ansel's mind raced, panic bubbling beneath the surface as confusion clouded his thoughts. His heart pounded erratically, each beat echoing the disbelief that something was terribly wrong.
Suddenly, a cold drop splattered against his forehead. Instinctively, he raised his hand and rubbed the spot where the drop had landed. His fingers came away slick and sticky. He blinked, eyes widening in shock as he realized the liquid was blood.
"Blood..." The word barely escaped his lips, a whisper swallowed by the heavy silence around him.
Ansel's gaze shot upward, searching for the source of the bleeding. But above him, there was nothing, only an endless expanse of clear, pale blue sky stretching infinitely. No branches, no wounds, no explanation.
His eyes darted around, desperate for answers, until they settled on the flower gate ahead.
The once pristine white flowers of lilies and roses that formed the heart-shaped gate began to change. Slowly, almost imperceptibly at first, the white petals started to lose their purity.
A creeping crimson seeped into their edges, spreading like ink in water until the entire gate was stained a deep, unsettling red.
A sudden sound broke the eerie stillness, a footsteps. They were deliberate, slow, and heavy, approaching from beyond the flower gate. Ansel's breath caught in his throat as the figure came into view. It was Heka.
"Heka, you…" Ansel's voice trembled, but no sound emerged. His throat tightened, words trapped inside like a caged bird.
Heka stopped just before the flower gate, his presence commanding and cold. From behind his back, he revealed a single black rose, its petals velvety and dark as midnight. With a slow, deliberate motion, he pointed the rose at Ansel.
Ansel's body froze, rigid as stone. He tried to cry out, to warn, to plead, but his voice was gone, dissolved into the heavy air. Panic surged through him, but he was powerless.
"My voice, I can't speak. Heka… don't come here, you should go as far as possible. I beg you… don't do that…" His silent plea echoed in his mind, desperate and raw.
As Heka held the black rose, its petals began to fall, one by one, drifting down like dark snowflakes.
Their vibrant colors drained away into black. The flower gate, once a symbol of love and purity, had become a harbinger of something black and foreboding.
****
Ansel woke up abruptly, his body drenched in cold sweat. The remnants of the dream clung to him like a heavy fog, thick and suffocating.
It had felt so real, more vivid than any dream he had ever experienced. Yet, strangely, it wasn't about him. It wasn't about his life, his fears, or his desires. It belonged to someone else.
He glanced over at the clock hanging on the cracked wall of his small room. The hour hand pointed firmly at 1:00 AM, the dead of night when shadows seemed to stretch longer and silence grew deeper.
Though it was just a dream, to Ansel it was far more than that. Before the dream had even come, he had seen a vision.
An unsettling glimpse of something dark and foreboding. Now, that vision had returned to him in the form of a dream, haunting him relentlessly.