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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1980557-Insignia
Rated: E · Other · Other · #1980557
story for writing contest
Chapter One





It started with the violent, incessant nightmares. Each night, I saw the same thing.



         The pendulum swung in the air. Tick, tock. With each spin, a constant ring excreted from it. The ring's resonance booming throughout the eternal darkness.



         A tear, a blink, and a heartbeat. I could hear the drop of a tear. The blink of an eye. And the beating of the heartbeat.



         Then it ends with an abrupt awakening. Crystal sweat beating down my forehead. I take a swallow, and I look at the clock. It was six fifteen AM.



I unfolded the warm covers, and a blade of cold air wrapped around my legs. Hugging myself for warmth, I walked over to my drawers, and changed into my school clothes. My article of clothing included a white dress shirt and red tie. I also had to wear beige, khaki pants. I went to the bathroom, and stared at my white teeth through the glossy, glass mirror. I brushed my teeth, and a thick, white foam engulfed my teeth. A minty taste spreading throughout my mouth.



         I spit out the toothpaste into the sink, and rinsed it out. Walking down the steps, I can smell the smell of  bacon and eggs filling the air. The scent came from the kitchen.



         I walked into the kitchen, and sat down at the kitchen table. I took a bite of the crunchy, mouth watery bacon, and added the eggs.



         When I finished the, I got my book bag and walked out of the house.



         It was 2:30 PM, and the school bell rung. I walked out of my psychology class, to the sound of slamming lockers. Then I heard my name being called.

         “Evan!” a voice called. I turned around, and I was unable to determine the source of the voice calling me.

         “Evan!” I heard it again, and I saw the psychology, Dr. Richards, with his hands cupped around his mouth. I walked over to him. Dr. Richards was a balding, stocky man in his thirties. He had fair skin.

         “Yes, Dr. Richards?” I asked.

         “You know how I had you write down your dreams?” he asked.

         “Yes.”

         “Well I have a colleague who needs someone to perform in a dream simulation. He read your dreams and would like to hire you for a small price of three million dollars.”

         “Three figures! I'm in!” I exclaimed.

         “Follow me.” Dr. Richards said.
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