The White Mansion

The dream is so deeply intertwined into my mind that it is impossible to forget.

The setting was disturbing — a white mansion, void of color except for that night when it was bathed in red light.

I awaken as a stranger to myself and the others around. Women, men, children, all of us are gathered. I don’t know their faces. I don’t recognize them from memory or reality. The only thing we shared was confusion.

Why are we here? Why can’t we remember?

Time skips forward after that. The dream fades in and out, but from what I can piece together, we form a bond. Strangers become allies bound to a mansion that won’t let us leave. Together, we develop a plan: search the house for answers, and so we split up and search.

I wander the seemingly endless white hallway, opening door after door, each room empty. Then an ear-shattering scream sounds from downstairs. I run down the spiral staircase, getting halfway before seeing the others staring at a man. My mind can’t compute the details of his face.

“They’re gone,” he said. “They were there, then they weren’t.” Chatter of confusion erupts.

Who is he talking about?

“Who?” Someone asks.

“The kids.” The kids? Suddenly, everyone begins looking around, and it’s true. There are no children in sight.

Where did they go?

The crowd becomes frantic. Incoherent shouts ring throughout. Again, the dream fades in and out. When it reforms, I’m upstairs in the hallway again, but I’m not alone. The others rush back and forth, checking room after room, desperately searching for the children. I move to join, but before I take a single step, there is a door beside me that calls to me. A door that wasn’t there before.

I place my hand on the cold silver handle and turn it.

The door creaks open.

Inside, large monitors are displaying live footage from the white mansion. I see the others on it, running around, searching. Then something moves and my attention shifts, but it’s not something, it’s someone, dressed in black from head to toe.

I scream and slam the door. I cover my pounding heart as I back away. I rush to the banister and alert the others. Soon, everyone is gathered at the door, but when it opens, the person dressed in black isn’t there. My mind begins to scramble, wondering if what I saw was real. But the others don’t notice; they’re too focused on what they can see, the monitors.

“We’re being watched.” Someone states.

“By who?” Instantly, the white mansion is flooded with red light, and sirens blare. People scream, covering their ears, racing toward the door, shoving one another aside.

I watch from the banister as they rush down the stairs to the front door, pulling on the handle, but it doesn’t open.

Then I see them.

Five figures in black. Five of them, moving to the chaos.

I open my mouth to voice the threat, but the words die in my throat. They are too quick.

Screams turn to shrieks as the figures descend, knives flashing, and the sound of stabbing echoes off the white walls.

I cover my mouth before it makes a sound and run. I shut myself inside a bathroom, my back against the farthest wall. My breath comes out in shallow bursts. I try to get control of it, and once I do, I am consumed by silence.

I don’t hear screams. I don’t hear anything. Is it over?

Then a rapid knock comes from the other side of the door.

“Let me in, please.” It’s a woman’s voice. “Please, I don’t want to die.” I creep towards the door.

“Is it just you?” I ask.

“Yes. Please open the door. They’re killing everyone.” Part of me wants to be selfish and back away. Pretend I didn’t hear a word, but I don’t. I unlock the door, and the woman rushes in. I close it and lock it back.

I face the woman to see that she is covered in blood.

“They started killing everyone…we didn’t even see them until…” Her voice trails off.

“Did anyone else make it?”

“I don’t…I don’t know.” A loud slam in the distance stops me from asking any more questions. I press my ear up against the door and listen: screams and stabbing. They’re coming.

“We have to go.”

The woman shakes her head and backs into the wall. ‘No.. I-I can’t.”

“If we stay here…we die.”

“I’m not leaving.” There’s nothing I can say to convince her. She made her choice, and I have to make mine. I crack open the door, checking if the hallway is empty. It is. I look back at the woman who’s shaking her head at me and run.

I run down the spiral staircase to see the floor littered with bodies and crimson.

I don’t know what happens next because the dream ends there, but I’ll never forget the stark transition from white to red.