章 147: Chapter 147
The air was heavy with dust, dry as if the world had long forgotten how to rain. Every step Dave took through the woods felt like a small betrayal of his body. The forest clung to him, sharp branches snaring his jacket, the crunch of brittle leaves underfoot echoing too loudly in the stillness. His heart pounded with each breath, not out of fear, but anticipation. He had waited for this moment for too long.
The Cave of Godly Dreams.
It wasn't a place most people knew about, nor did they care to. It sat deep in the woods, shrouded in legends. They said those who reached it would have their dreams fulfilled—but only if they paid the price. And that price wasn't small. They said you had to kill at least fifteen people, drag their bodies there, and leave them at the cave's entrance. No one could know what you'd done. If you were caught, the curse would return everything to how it was, but worse. Far worse.
Dave's hands gripped tighter around the shovel, its weight in his palms a reminder of what he'd done. Fifteen people. Fifteen bodies. He knew them all by name. Each one had a place now, somewhere in the woods. They hadn't mattered. Not in the end. They had been obstacles, stepping stones toward the life he wanted.
The cave was not far. He had been there once before, years ago, when he had first heard the whispers in the dark. The others had warned him it was just a rumor. But then, how could anyone explain the first time his deepest wish had come true?
It hadn't been much—just a small thing. A job, an opportunity. But then he knew. He knew the curse was real.
This time would be different. This time, his dreams wouldn't be small.
Dave reached the entrance of the cave, barely more than a split in the rock, covered with a thick, gnarled growth of vines and moss. It looked as if it had always been there, waiting for someone to find it. He pushed aside the tangled mess, the vines scraping against his skin, leaving streaks of red, a reminder that his journey had been anything but clean. The bodies lay in a small pile just outside the entrance, the twisted forms hidden beneath tarps, their eyes staring into nothing.
He had done it. Fifteen. It had taken months, but now, it was all about to come together. The air inside the cave was damp and cold, a stark contrast to the heat of his anticipation. He pushed through the narrow opening, dragging the bodies with him, one by one. Each one dropped with a thud that echoed through the empty space. His chest tightened with a mixture of satisfaction and something else. Something cold.
"Here we are," he muttered to no one.
He knelt by the first body, a man named Bill. Bill had been a problem, always getting in the way, always saying the wrong things. Dave had made it clean. No one had ever suspected him. That's how it had to be. Clean. Quiet. The cave had no mercy for those who weren't willing to pay the price.
He arranged the bodies in a circle, each one facing inward. This was how it was supposed to be done. There were no instructions, no guidebook—just the whispers in the dark, the stories from those who had made the journey before him. And now, the dream that had driven him all this time was within his reach.
The cave seemed to breathe. The walls pulsed with an odd, hollow sound, as if the stone itself was alive. It was ancient, this place, older than the trees outside, older than the world. Dave could feel the ground beneath him tremble, just slightly, as if it were waiting for something.
His heart beat faster. He wasn't scared. He wasn't. But the air felt thick now, oppressive. It pushed against him, but he didn't care. He was too close.
His hands trembled slightly as he took the last step in his ritual. He knelt in the center of the bodies, closing his eyes.
"Make it real," he whispered, his voice hoarse. "Make it all come true."
The sound grew louder. It wasn't a hum or a buzz—it was the cavern itself, the very rock around him, alive with something dark. The smell of decay filled the air. Something shifted behind him, a whisper, and Dave's heart skipped a beat. He turned quickly, but there was nothing.
A voice, faint but clear, broke through the oppressive silence. "You're too late."
Dave's blood ran cold. His body froze. His mind scrambled for an answer. He turned in every direction, but the darkness was still there, suffocating, consuming. It wasn't supposed to happen like this.
"You're not alone," the voice whispered again.
Dave didn't move. His eyes scanned the cave, desperate. The air was thick now, heavier, colder, and he could feel it pressing down on him. It wasn't the cave doing it, not anymore. It was something else. Something much darker.
The ground beneath him cracked. The first body jolted, its eyes snapping open. Bill's face twisted in agony, his mouth opening in a scream that didn't sound human. Dave scrambled backward, his heart slamming against his ribs. It wasn't real. It couldn't be real.
One by one, the bodies rose, like marionettes pulled by invisible strings. Their limbs were stiff, unnatural, and their eyes held nothing but malice. Dave's breath quickened, the nightmare folding over him. He stumbled to his feet, his legs shaking.
"You shouldn't have done it," the voice said again, clear now, as if it came from all around him.
The bodies circled him, their movements jerky and broken, but relentless. Each one had a hand outstretched, reaching for him, the cold touch of death trailing their fingers.
"No," Dave gasped, trying to push past them, but the cave seemed to close in. The walls pressed tighter. He was running out of space, running out of time.
The last body, a woman named Sarah, reached for his throat. Dave screamed and shoved her away, but she wouldn't stop. Her hands were ice-cold, and as they wrapped around his neck, he felt his own heartbeat stutter.
"You should've stayed away," she said, her voice hollow, like a voice from the grave.
The others were closing in now, their hands pulling at him, dragging him back toward the center of the circle. The air tasted like rot and the ground felt like a tomb. His body fought, but it was too late. He knew it was too late.
The dream he had fought for so long had come to nothing.
The cold hands gripped tighter, and he gasped for air, his vision dimming. He fought harder, but the bodies closed in, one after the other, their cold fingers pulling him deeper into the circle. They were dragging him down, pulling him to the ground, but it wasn't the ground he felt. It was the cave, the rock itself, pressing in.
The dream, the one he had craved, would never be his. Not now. Not when the cost had been too high.
The last breath he took was filled with the stink of decay, and when the world faded into blackness, the last thing he saw was the glowing eyes of the bodies, staring back at him, accusing him.
And as the bodies faded, as the cave claimed him, a whisper echoed in the dark:
"You are part of the dream now."
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