shuhaige
42
In the stillness of the night, I woke up to an unsettling coldness that sent shivers down my spine. The sensation was accompanied by an all-too-familiar unease in my stomach, a discomfort that had become increasingly unwelcome. “Oh no, not again,” I thought with a sense of resignation. It seemed that my stomach was determined to play tricks on me in the middle of the night.
I wasted no time, bolting out of bed and rushing towards the bathroom. The dim light cast an eerie glow as I leaned over the toilet, my body heaving as I expelled the contents of my stomach once more. “What the hell?” I muttered, my frustration and confusion evident in the way my voice wavered.
After the episode, I felt a mixture of exhaustion and annoyance. It had been only last night that I’d drunk that soothing cup of tea and drifted into sleep, hoping that the worst was behind me. Yet here I was again, facing the same uncomfortable scenario.
I glanced at my phone to check the time, only to be met with the glaring numbers of 2:00 AM. Sighing, I hastily pulled my hair into a bun and made my way downstairs. The cold tiles underfoot sent a shiver up my spine, but my stomach’s insistent demands overpowered the discomfort.
In the kitchen, my rummaging hands found a pack of noodles, and I set to work making a simple yet comforting bowl of noodles with eggs and gnocchi mushrooms. The sound of the sizzling pan and bubbling water provided a strange sense of solace, as if the kitchen’s familiarity could distract me from the persistent unease.
Footsteps echoed from the stairs, and I turned to find Alex descending with a quizzical look in his eyes. “I was hungry,” I explained, a sheepish smile tugging at my lips as I motioned towards the steaming bowl of soup in front of me.
Alex raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment further. Instead, he headed to the pantry and grabbed a box of cornflakes. “I eat at night too,” he admitted with a casual shrug, as if sharing in a secret late-night routine.
As I stirred my noodles and took a few bites, Alex’s concerned gaze lingered on me. “Feeling better?” he inquired, his voice laced with genuine worry.
I shook my head, the gesture accompanied by a sigh. “I just vomited a few minutes ago. That’s why I’m up, actually.”
His concern deepened. “Really? Have you figured out what’s causing it? Maybe something from the BBQ?”
I shook my head again, this time with a more certain conviction. “I don’t think so. It’s just a stomach flu. It’ll be over in a day or two.”
As I finished my noodles and set the bowl in the sink, a sudden wave of nausea hit me like a brick wall. “Oh my god!” I exclaimed, my hand flying to my mouth as I turned to make a hasty retreat upstairs.
Without wasting a moment, I dashed to the bathroom and barely managed to lean over the toilet before the violent heaving began once more. The familiar sound filled the room, and the sense of frustration and vulnerability washed over me. The bathroom tiles were cold against my knees, and I clung to the porcelain toilet as if it were my only lifeline.
After what felt like an eternity, the waves of nausea began to recede, leaving me panting and drained. I wiped my mouth and sat back, leaning against the wall as I caught my breath. This was becoming a night of unexpected challenges, testing both my physical strength and emotional endurance.
As I made my way back to the bedroom, I couldn’t shake off the unsettling feeling that this bout of illness was testing more than just my body-it was challenging my patience, my resilience, and my ability to find comfort in the midst of discomfort. And as I curled up in bed, I hoped that the night would eventually relent, bringing with it a sense of relief and a promise of a better day ahead.
In the hushed moments of the early morning, I awoke to the piercing pain of a headache that seemed to split my skull in two. It was a cruel awakening, accompanied by the unsettling feeling that I might be sick again. The wave of nausea crashed over me, and I hurriedly stumbled out of bed, a sense of urgency propelling me towards the bathroom.
Curling into a ball on the cold tiles, I gagged and retched, the sound echoing in the dimly lit room. This stomach flu was proving to be relentless, showing no mercy even in the quiet hours of dawn. As I made gagging noises, a mixture of frustration and desperation colored my thoughts.
“When will this be over?” I muttered in a hoarse voice, my words barely audible over the sounds of my own discomfort. Slowly, I managed to pull myself upright, using the sink to steady myself as I washed my face. The cold water splashed against my skin, a fleeting moment of relief from the torment my body was experiencing.
With the pounding headache adding to my misery, I reached for a tablet to numb the pain before stumbling back into bed. As I closed my eyes in hopes of catching a few more hours of rest, an unsettling dream began to take shape.
“Tragedy, tragedy is coming,” a voice whispered, echoing in the empty spaces of my subconscious. The dream world was awash with an unnatural light, casting shadows that danced on the periphery of my vision.
“What tragedy?” I questioned, my own voice a mixture of confusion and dread. The voice that answered sounded like my own, but somehow distant and ethereal.
“Someone you love. Someone you love will die,” the voice intoned, each word sending a chill down my spine. The dream felt too real, too vivid to be dismissed as mere imagination.
The dream’s intensity grew, the light intensifying until it was blinding. My heart raced as I struggled to make sense of the cryptic words that seemed to echo in the caverns of my mind. The dream felt like a puzzle, pieces scattered in the darkness, waiting to be deciphered.Content protected by Nôv/el(D)rama.Org.
Abruptly, I woke up, my body drenched in a cold sweat. The remnants of the unsettling dream clung to me, lingering in the early morning light. I blinked against the sudden brightness, the reality of the room flooding back.
What had just happened? The words from the dream hung heavy in my thoughts, an echo of something that felt inexplicably linked to the past. It was then that a chilling realization hit me-those were the exact words the old lady in the park had uttered.
A shiver crawled down my spine as the pieces fell into place. This dream was a mirror image of that encounter, a surreal and unsettling echo of something I couldn’t quite comprehend. The synchronicity was unnerving, and a sense of foreboding settled over me like a heavy fog.
As I lay there, staring at the ceiling, I couldn’t help but wonder what lay ahead. The stomach flu was one thing-a temporary ailment that would eventually pass-but the haunting dream had left an indelible mark, casting a shadow over the day that was just beginning.