Alexa was there again. The bombs were ripping through her on every side as she flew across the moonlight from the tops of every house. The sound. The sound. And in every corner lurched the same figures of disaster. The scene changed again but this time the ghost of her father was rearing up at her with a double barrel shotgun. There was smoke and the wall she was leaning against fell backwards into an empty theatre. She landed comfortably on a plush red chair, but the soft velvet turned sticky and wet and Alexa realised she was sinking in blood, she was sitting on a pile of flesh. There were groans and screams and in front of her a clown with silver shoes introduced the show.
The show was flashes of her life. Flicking. Flashing. Days of happiness. Days of sorrow. Her first kiss. The birth of her eldest. The day he learned to walk. Her marriage day. But every scene was corrupted. In every scene the same guantless figures. A man, battle wounded with shrapnel scars and a pitiful look. And in the shadows somebody, with a stretched and leering look. A look that was looking right at her. Laughing. Flicking. Flashing.
Alexa gasped and opened her eyes. She felt the cool, metal barrier of the motorway bridge in order to plant herself back in reality. Breath. She ran her hands through her thick black hair and pulled the cardigan closer around. The sound of rushing cars faded back into her mind, horns tooting, air whistling. She had always wondered what it would be like to die. And here she was. On this bridge. Ready to take the jump. Surely. Surely. She thought. It can't be as bad as these dreams. These haunting figures.
She jumped. Somebody had approached behind her.
It was a statement, not a question. She thought about doing it then. Now. Just do it. Before... It was another man. Man. He was looking straight into her eyes. There was so much understanding in his eyes, like he knew some secret nobody else did. He was odd. Strange.
"Be wary," said the man, "They come to steal your dreams and your life."
"My life is of no use to anyone."
The man ignored her response.
"What did they look like. Tell me. I must know."
But Alexa was in tears because her mind was playing tricks, and everywhere she saw the wounded soldier and the chilling leering man. So she flew over the railings and into the sky. For a moment she felt free, but even there the whistling of the wind was a cool voice singing;
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