What Are Antoneso's 'Heir': A Fictional Narrative

I was frightened; I would perspire and tremble when awoken from creepy dreams or from visualizing images in my room. Most nights sleepless, and my daylight hours becoming more challenging to mange, I had become an insomniac and struggling with meaning.

I heard the door shut and felt like I was alone, it was still pitch black so I was not sure of it. As the time passed it began to get hotter as if I were in a sauna, I began to sweat and panic. After approximately thirty minutes he had come back in the room but I didn’t just hear one but two voices speaking, I was not able to understand what they were discussing, all I heard was mumbling. As I was trying to eavesdrop on their conversation before I could hear anything they had begun to drag me to another place I was not sure of. I began to wonder why I was not able to see anything but pitch black until I had remembered something very important. I was so caught up with being very frightened that I had forgotten that I was born without my

Jackson came back and threw himself to the floor beside the rest of us. The constant clicking and mumbled curses mixed in with the rest of the sound once more, causing the buzzing to become louder.

Pulling up to the funeral home wearing a white dress and my hands full of tissues, my whole body began to tremble. It was chaotic , something I've never felt . I gathered with friends and we began to cry together as we shared memories of our friend. We had each other and that was the most important thing. I hugged her mom and went up to and went up to the casket to see her one last time. She felt cold to the touch and her skin had lost its color. Grabbing her hand I whispered how much I loved her . Kari was dressed in white and her body adorned with jewelry and a picture of her cat Stan. I kept insisting it was all a bad dream, that I would soon wake up. In reality, she was gone and I was left

“Good night mom,” I called as I closed the door to my room , flicked off the lights, and headed towards my bed. I glanced over at the tiny white screen of my alarm clock. It read 10:45 p.m. I laid down, closed my eyes, and let my mind wander until a dark veil draped over my eyes and I entered the world of sleep.

I opened up my eyes to a blank white celling. I guess me dying wasn’t reality. I tried to get up but I was restrained. My hands were tied and so were my feet. I pounded until I heard someone walk into the room.

Barely able to stay awake, dreaming of sleep, dreaming of running away, I sit on the couch, television on, barely audi-ble, as it fights the fan in the kitchen, the wooden rolling pin clanging on the failed bread to be fried as sweet pita, barely audible over the tablet playing YouTube videos two rooms away, barely audible over my child’s voice repeated-ly talking giddily about nonsense I do not understand. I sip on tea, the steam ripping my buds, leaving me barely able to taste, giving no pleasure, giving no warmth, no comfort from the nightmares that never stay away. I sit on the couch for fear of falling asleep, for fear of staying awake, flickering blue lights of all our devices leave me dreaming of sleep, barely able to stay

Everything was too slow and too fast at the same time. We ate ice-cream besides the bed where the corpse of my father lay. I remembered thinking it looked fake, like someone had replaced him with a badly made wax copy. It still did. I remembered feeling entirely removed from the situation, unable to reach out, to cry, to grieve with the rest of my family did because it just didn't seem real to me. I still felt removed from the situation, but this time because it had already happened to me, eleven years ago.

I awoke in the dead of night coved in a cold sweat. Haunted by my dreams i laid there trying to catch my breath as the heavy rain beat down on the roof. I replayed the dream over and over and over again in my head so not to forget it. So much death and bloodshed; the screams people being slaugthed by the dozens. Familys torn apart and citys burned and all for what? To stop the few of us that learned to survive years of wars. The rain drops grew louder with each breath. The room felt small and cluttered. I must smell hung heavily in the air as if it was poisonus gas trying to suffercate

“Who are you, telling us what we can or can’t do with her?” the man asks.

My eyes fluttered open, sighing softly. My body felt restless after that reoccurring nightmare. I stretched out my arm, getting a glimpse at my wrist and forearm- the two areas that were constantly attacked each time I relived that moment. The lavender hammock I laid in swayed, the cotton material allowing my skin to feel relaxed. I stared at the plain ceiling. It was hard to search for the motivation to get out of my hammock every morning.

“It was really serious. She accused me of being a spy, and—no, it only sounds ridiculous when you say it out loud!”

As I opened my eyes I saw nothing but darkness. It surrounded me, comforted me, and urged me to go back to sleep. Then, I heard my Dad’s voice cutting through the pitch black. “Are you still going?” he asked. I rolled over and let out a sleepy moan. He asked again, “Do you still want to go?” I nodded my head and attempted to arouse my brain. “Alright, if you are sure you want to.” he mumbled apprehensively as he walked out of my room. I closed my eyes and began to drift back to sleep. I caught myself drifting and threw off the mountain of covers I was buried under. The cool air of my room hit me and woke me instantly. My feet hit the ice cold floor and goose bumps appeared instantly on my skin. It was 5:00 a.m. on December

My body jolted with shock as I awoke from one of my several consecutive nightmares. Slowly, I opened my eyes hesitantly as my pupils adjusted to the dark room in search of light. Pushing my elbows against the surface of the rough carpet, I propped myself upright looking around frantically for any signs of danger. Once I realized that danger was not present, I dismissed my fear of being at risk for anything harmful. I then tightly pulled my knees to my chest, lowered my head into my lap, and clenched my fists. Soon after, tears began to overflow my sealed shut eyes as they escaped, racing down my pale cheeks onto my uncontrollable shaky legs. Time passed, and I was still hysterical until I was interrupted by my

“I tried to put it behind me, Amanda! I tried to keep a clear head while I stayed with you guys so I wouldn’t cause any trouble!”