A Nightmare By Candise McMullin It was dark, completely black. Opening, closing my eyes. Still black. A distant humming, a chant? No, talking, apprehensive chatter. I feel about in the dark. A chair? I push it over, my arms stretched out wide in front of me. My fingers touch something solide, stone? It’s cold. I search for a corner, crevice, anything. I feel along with my hands… a corner…. Following upwards I find a low ceiling, I’m in a small room. No windows, no door. I’m trapped. Low ultraviolet lights slowly flicker on. I see gentlemen, and ladies. A small army of gentlemen and ladies. Doll like, fake, gathered around me. I’m in a glass box… no, a display case. My own personal prison, like a caged animal. Faces all turned up in apprehension. Gawking at me. I’m naked. I turn in attempt to put my back to my unwanted audience, to hide my shame.I cannot. I’m surrounded by this army of dolls. On all sides pale faces examine me. I search frantically around for something to cover myself. Nothing, the chair lies overlooked in the corner. I huddle down into the center of my cage, head between my knees, trying to block out the faces, all starring. Critiquing. I hear a faint tapping, growing louder with each passing second. No! footsteps! I look up with eager eyes. Help? Someone to get me out of this display case? I’m not a freak show! I stand up, searching. The audience starts to get excited in anticipation. Of what? Whose coming? The crowd parts and I gaze at… myself? What? No, this cannot be right. That isn’t me, I’m inside here, cold, naked, trapped. This replica, it’s paled face, red lipped like the dolls. This me, is one of the doll like audience. The imitation walks to my cage, puts their hand to the glass in front of where I stand, and smiles, a ruthless, mocking smile. By instinct, I reach out and outline my hand on theirs. I can feel the coldness from that hand. I can see the cruelness in eyes that I meet. Exactly like mine. A mirror image. The replica reaches downward flips a switch on the base of my cage. Water starts seeping through cracks at the base corners of the case. Rising slowly up to my ankles. I stare out at the dolls. At my face starring back in at me. What do you want from me? Why? What did I do to you? I’m screaming into an echo of myself, who is smiling back at me. That mocking proud smile. I close my eyes. Praying for this to be a dream... I feel the water rising to my chest. Frozen, icy water trickles up over my shoulders. I open my eyes and face myself. I’m screaming at myself, my throat is going raw, I cant feel my body. The water has risen to my chin. I splash frantically, searching for that chair, somewhere below me to stand on; I find it, climb on top. No use. The water continues to rise. I look out at the audience of dolls, smiling red lips; blank black eyes are watching me. Somebody, anybody, please! Stop! A cheer rises up from my audience. A wild animal roar. Applause, laughter, pure delight in my suffering, my fear. The water is over my head now; I reach about me desperately, searching for something to hold me higher out of the water. Theres no point, the water has reached the ceiling. I’m trapped. I’m drowning. I kick down to the bottom of the tank, my lungs aching, throbbing, yearning for oxygen. I face myself. That sinister, mocking grin. I pound at the glass, screaming, no longer afraid. Angry. Angry at myself, for not letting me out of this nightmare! I begin to feel faint. I’m losing consciousness. I’m drowning. My eyes start to get heavy, I can’t think, I can’t breathe. I see my arrogant imitation turn their back to me, walk away from my watery display case, turning back only once to give a cocky salute… as my water grave goes dark, completely black.