Just a Dream

Inside of a small, gloomy bungalow I crouch in a corner of an obscure bedroom. The walls are drab, a hint of grey is what the paint appears to be, but I'm too paranoid to notice. There are vines clinging to the peeling paint of both the outside and inside. The scene is black and white, though here and there are hints of color that used to be. It almost resembles the house in Big Fish.

So I'm crouched with my knees up to my chest, to scared to move. About to cry because I don't know what I'm doing or why I'm there, a heavy haze crawls between the door and the dusty floor.
In rapid succesion, my mind reels in the possibilities of all this could mean, finally choosing the conclusion that, somehow, the attic has caught fire. Still too scared to even twitch in fear of what changes would come to me because of being in a burning building, I allow my brain to do the moving.
Even though I know nothing good will come from being a flaming building, I'm too scared to dream about life outside of it. What will happen? What will become of me? What will I do? What will others think? I'll have no house, what will I do with nothing but my soul to my name? What will it be like outside of my rotting, decaying, decrepit "home?" How will I start to live?
As I think these dumb questions, the smoldering roof begins to fall to the floor around my sweaty body. A yell from outside catches temporarily distracts me. A man's voice is saying He's willing to rescue me. I'm not sure... it's scary. I've only been outside of this depraved and marred existence a few times, "less than the fingers on my grimy hand" I think, as I lift them up for the first time from around my bent legs.
-Now, to you, the outsider, it seems perfectly logical that I would want to get out of this "dying" house, but to me, it's all I know. It's all I've ever known but for a few glorious seconds that I spent out in the open. Though I remember those ephemeral moments, I'm not sure if I trust them, afterall, soonafter they occured, I got scared again and ran into my dilapidated house again. I'm not sure if those few good rememberances are worth the risk of leaving my dear, but wretched home that has been mine and solely mine for so long.
A bang at the door. I instantly percieve what's happening. It's the voice I had heard from the other side. He's talking to me now. He says I don't need to be frightened and reaches out His hand for me to grab onto. Reluctant, even with his reassurances, I weakly put my hand into His.
He smiles gently and acts calmly, knowing that He can too easily panic me. As we walk through the living room, legs beginning to shake from exhaustion, they crumple beneath.
Opening my eyes, I realize He's carrying my in His arms to the outside, away from my decrepit house.

As it caves in for the last time behind us, I feel remorse for it, but then look at what is before me. It's beautiful beyond words. But even with the beauty, there is destruction. Not the kind experienced in my house, a different kind.

The End