“Indy? Hey, I think your coffee’s ready.”

Indy suddenly finds herself standing stock still at her favorite-and-now-crowded coffee place. She seems to be forgetting the reason she is here. A thinned lip, middle aged woman looks at her as if waiting for her to say something. Indy opens her mouth, then closes it, unsure of what to say.

“You’re Indy, right? Your coffee is getting cold,” again the woman says to her, gesturing to the coffee on the counter.

Like a TV being switched on, Indy now remembers walking in, ordering herself the usual drink and waiting in line while it’s brewed and fixed. Refusing to be the subject of everyone’s attention, she nods at the kind woman, takes her drink and sits outside.

She takes the first sip of her fix, her mind all the while racing back to the strange dream she had this morning. She looks at her trembling hands. The sun is up yet here she is, cold to the bone. “What’s happening to me?” She silently asks herself.

All night, she was in a constant state of dreaming and waking up. She had dreamt of doing something unimaginable and then had jolted herself back awake, heaving and sweating. That continued on for a number of time before she finally got up. Her eyes found the window. She was surprised to see that it was wide open, the curtains swaying and rustling.

Abruptly, she walked over to the window to close it but had tripped on what seemed to be her clothes crumpling on the floor. She did not remember going to bed naked. She snatched on the blanket to cover herself before finally shutting the window close.

She stole several glances around her room and was relieved to know that she was all alone. “But why had I slept naked? Why was the window opened?” The questions racing back and forth in her mind.

Indy sat on the bed to compose herself. She took a long and hard look at her naked body and noticed that it was a little bruised up and sore. She had a couple of unexplainable scratches across her left arm but the wound was already cleaned up and treated.

Frantically she got up to examine her clothes on the floor and sure enough, they were heavily soaked with blood. She had no idea whose blood it was but she had a feeling it wasn’t entirely all hers.


Did you enjoy reading my short story, INDY? Do leave a comment, I’d love to hear your thoughts on it.

Stay tuned for other stories. – NAZ

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