Ashes and Laughter

 Ashes and Laughter

I didn’t plan to sleep that night.
But my body gave in.

And I dreamed again.

I was running through a street I didn’t recognize.
Everything looked… burned.

Ashes were falling from the sky, soft like snow.
But the air was thick, heavy.

The strange part — maybe the worst part — was the sound.

Children.

Laughing and crying at the same time.

The laughter echoed like it came from speakers.
The crying felt like it was inside me.

I looked around, but couldn’t see them.
Just shadows darting between buildings, too fast to follow.

I wanted to scream, to call for help, to stop running — but I couldn’t.

And then it came.

A thick, black smoke rolled in from the ground.
It wasn’t natural.
It moved like it was alive.

It wrapped around my legs.
Pulled me down.

And I fell.

Into something endless.
A dark so deep it felt like I had no body. No weight.
Just falling.
Forever.

When I woke up, I couldn’t breathe.
My chest hurt.
My hands were clenched so tightly they left marks.

I still smell the smoke.

I still hear the laughter.

I don’t know where this city is.
But it feels closer every time.