"LEAVE ME ALONE!"

The guy kept running for his life. His sweats are cold, running through his chin. His breath was short, he wasn't fast enough to left the girl who chased him alone. Fear fuel his lungs, the fear of being haunted by an unknown spirit.

Chris didn't know where was he going, yet he kept running deep, far into the woods. The more he ran, the darker it gets.

"What do you want from me!?" He yelled, desperately wanting to escape the girl.

He tripped over a rock and struggled to crawl with the last bit of energy he had. Unfortunately, the girl caught him. She was looking down with something unknown in her hand.

Before anything happened, the guy woke up from his dream. He breathes heavily, looking to the sides just to find himself woke up in his room. It was a mess, but he's glad it was just a dream.

Or so he thought.

The dream kept repeating, driving him to the edge of madness. It was always the same: a girl chasing him, and him tripping over the same rock in the same woods. The dream was vague and didn't give him any answers, but it made him paranoid around girls.

Chris was well-known for his sweet behavior towards anyone. But after he kept dreaming about the girl repeatedly, he kept his distance between girls. They thought it was weird, some of them even start a rumor about Chris who hates girls.

It was not the case, but Chris doesn't seem to care. He wants to keep it that way, the only way for girls to stay away from him.

"Damn it, it happened again." Chris stroke his hair. "Who even is she? Do my dreams have something to do with any of my relatives? But none of them looked like her. Who is she?"

His eyes stared at the alarm clock, it was two and a half in the morning. It happened again, he woke up even before the girl say anything.

"Could it be related to my ability to see the dead? But I lost that ability a long time ago. I haven't seen that girl before," he said to himself. Chris was laying on his bed, looking in any direction to make sure no one was there but him.

The room was dark, with only faint moonlight filtering through the curtains. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he noticed his room was decorated with posters of singers like Elvis, Justin Timberlake, and Michael Bublé. He loved blues and pop music, which contributed to his poetic nature.

Chris had once won a poetry competition, and his name had spread throughout the city. Although he wasn't famous, some people knew of his talent. He was a talented and kind person, but also quite shy, expressing his feelings through writing.

Everyone admired his work.

Chris had once been able to see the dead. Not quite see, but he could hear them most of the time. He wasn't an expert on those kinds of things, so he named the spirits himself.

The one that only can be heard was The Talker. They kept talking about things that made them died or their beloved ones. Chris liked The Talker personally because he loves to hear stories. And theirs were rather interesting to hear.

The one that could make themselves be seen by him was The Illusionist. They looked nothing like the day they died. They were always nice, lured him with their greatest appearance. Fortunately, The Illusionist didn't manage to do so. Chris doesn't know what do they wanted, but he feels like he's grateful to the fact that he'll never have the chance to figure it out.

The two types of spirits that were pointed can't touch mankind. However, some spirits liked to cause chaos. Chris liked to call them The Troublemaker or people have known them as a poltergeist.

The Troublemaker had nothing to do with grudges nor unfinished business in life, they just liked it to make a mess in the human world. At least, that's what Chris had known.

His ability was useful, he could tell which one telling lies and which isn't. That is, for the humans. He could see their past lives, he could also tell what sins they've done. Though he doesn't see it if they didn't ask for it.

The lost ability was a pity, but Chris enjoyed it when he can't hear nor see spirits anymore. It was quite peaceful, and he liked it that way.

That is until he dreamed about the same nightmare every night. It was rather frustrating, he couldn't even think straight when a girl walking towards his way. It was terrifying. Chris took it as a warning from his brain, which he believed was a source of his ability and why he lost it.

Because he thought he wanted it; he wanted the ability to disappear. Yet he needed it, to the point he regretted everything he'd done for the ability to vanish.

He closed his eyes. "I hope this is nothing."

***

It was disheartening that his hope was in vain. The nightmare continued. This time, the nightmare went longer than expected.

In the dream, the girl swung a bat with nails at him. She looked at Chris with a menacing expression. The girl said something, but it was unclear, so Chris wasn't sure what she meant.

Though, it's clear that she wanted to get rid of him. Chris was certain that none of the girls he'd met looked like her, so he was especially cautious when he went outside.

"Ay, Chris. My man!" A guy punched his shoulder softly. It was Jonathan, Chris' classmate. "What's up?"

Chris didn't answer. The silent treatment he gave stings a memory in Jonathan's brain. He lowered his voice. "The dream again?"

The poetic dude just nodded. It was rather a pity to see his friend acting lousy. Jonathan didn't like it, but he respects things Chris told him. He doesn't think a dream is that big of a deal, but he knew it's something for his friend.

"The girl is trying to kill me, John," said Chris. He glanced at Jonathan from the corner of his eyes, didn't move his neck. "She is trying to kill me."

"Why?" Jonathan frowned.

"I don't know. She said something before the bat hit my head; before I woke up. But I couldn't remember it clearly. It was blurry, though I remember her appearance."

Jonathan blinked. "How... how does she looks like?"

"She was---"

At that moment, Chris bumped into a girl. He fell on his butt, dropped his books all over the floor.

"Woah, dude. You okay?" asked Jonathan. He was trying to help Chris up, but another hand was there, waiting for Chris'.

"I'm so sorry!" The person said. It was a soft, feather-like voice. The voice was rather soothing, anyone would've liked it.

But Chris didn't.

His heart was thumping, his hands were trembling. He looked up just to find a black-haired girl with a pink butterfly pin on her left bangs.

The girl smiled. "Hello, my name is Britney."

Chris' lungs were full of fear. He turned pale, his muscle went rock hard. His memory repeating itself, stung Chris' brain to make his fear grew bigger.

It was... the same sentence as the girl's in my dreams.

***

1.238 words.

WHAT EVEN IS THIS ONE LMAOOO