John stared me down. His eyes, bloodshot, and the red seeped into his irises. His teeth grit. By the second, he grew taller, and so did the shadow behind him. Lastly, his skin turned red like a pepper, taking on its shine, too.
My stomach churned. But I cleared my throat. “John,” I began, “I never liked you in the first place.”
He growled, and in a fit, he tore his dress shirt open. “That doesn’t excuse you from bowing down!” His voice was deep and echoed through the barren hellscape.
“I am no longer loyal to your kind!” I argued.
He screamed, and readied his arm to swing at me. But I turned and sprinted across hell, mindful of the cracks in the dirt. I stepped on one, and fell in blackness.
Agh!
I lurched forward, stopping myself with my arm against my knees. It was my bedroom, bright and pastel blue. I rubbed my eyes, and drew out a long breath. Yes, I was awake. Just before the alarm set off.
The dream gave me chills. What if it turned out that way in real life? How would I ever face my new boss again?
I liked John.
Invader Stim Homerpants 