I wake up, scared to my bone. My skin is pale, cold and clammy. The sheets cling to my figure, my breathing is deep and my mind is racing over the nightmare. My blood is running cold, ice cold. I shudder scrolling through my memories of the nightmare, that I have had, again.

I glance at my clock, 6:00 in the morning it reads. Shaking, I get out of bed and walk to the bathroom, unsteady. Pictures flash in my mind as I wash my face. The feeling of paranoia is still there, ready to get me when I go to sleep again.

Slowly, I go back downstairs, tracing the walls with my fingertips. Checking if their still there. I'm being stupid now, I think, this is paranoid. I reach the last step and turn to switch on the TV. The newsreaders voice speaks out, clearing all my thoughts for the moment.

“The Modern Plague” as scientists have named it, is striking everywhere, doctors and scientists alike say that there is no cure. I repeat no cure. Nearly half of the population of the world has been taken, almost 1/4 of them are dead. Yellow fingers, coughing blood, and a sickly rash are just a few symptoms of this deadly disease. Victims of this sickness have few days to live any activity that wastes energy hastens the process. This is a pandemic of the highest level,"

I sigh, why can't there be a world without sickness? Ever since the Modern Plague had struck, nothing was the same as it was before. Everything is different, all thanks to a disease. A plague. People aren't allowed out, no one is in fear that we will catch the disease.

I can feel a cough itching up at the back of my throat, I wait for it to come. A loud rasping sound echos out, I wince at it. It take me a while before I realize it is me. A glistening red liquid covers a part of my hand. I gasp, blood. Where have I heard about coughing blood?

Then it strikes me, the news,one of the symptoms. My mind denies it, it is only ONE. As if one symptom means that I have the disease. I choose to ignore it, a mistake that would be costly.

That night, as I lie in bed I can almost feel my heart slowing. Almost to a stop, I can feel an annoying itch on my back. I can't reach it though. This maddens me deeply, I toss and turn trying to reach it. But it seems to grown larger every time I try. Impossible, I think. Eventually, sleep comes.

Light shines into my bedroom, through the cracks in the blinds. I squint trying to push the light away. Groaning, I fling the sheets aside and stand up. I sway, and sit back down on the bed. Suddenly the itch comes back, I stand up and stalk over to the mirror. I peer at the reflection of my back. A ghastly sickly greenish, red rash covers my back. I moan and sit down. No, no, no, no, I think shaking my head. My head feels light, and bright spots of colour dance in front of my eyes. I blink in confusion.I pass out and gratefully sink into the comforting arms of unconsciousness.

It is afternoon, my bones ache from where I fell. I close my eyes, trying to ignore the pain. A soft rustling causes me to look up. When I look up a face stares back. It is a girl; her face is small with a pointed nose, her eyes glowing amber. Her long brown hair sweeps over her shoulder, some falls down gently. She doesn't touch me, but instead she hovers above me. I can sense that she will offer me a quick death instead of this slow, painful one. She reaches out her hand to me, I stretch but as I am about to grasp it she disappears. Painfully, I get up my body screaming silently in agony. Taking a deep breath, I walk outside.

It is like a ghost town. Back then in the past, people would have been buzzing around, like in a normal world. It wasn't a normal world anymore, it was a sick one. I look around, not caring about shortening the speed of death.

Then I see the girl, a glimpse of her brown hair is all that I need to hope. I run around the corner with painful effort. I feel pain everywhere, but if I reach the girl, it will be worth it. She stands a short distance away from me, the wind whipping her brown hair. She watches me, her amber eyes flash, she knows what I want. A smirk appears on her face. My arms are covered in blue veins, that stands out against my pale skin. It takes me most of my precious energy to reach her, but once again she disappears. The girl is tormenting me, amused at my pain and suffering, using my energy would only hasten death.

In the distance, I see her appear again. She turns around to face me, knowing that I will come. I stumble towards her, every step causing me pain. My face was a picture of pure agony.

Finally, I collapse onto the road, writhing in pure anguish. It is torture. The girl steps forward, and peers down at me, white teeth shining.

Who are you?” I manage to say.

She gives an evil cackle, “Charles Branner, I am the Angel of Death,”

She laughs, and turns around. Her clothes have become black, but what terrifies me most are her eyes. They have gone from amber to a deep, ruby red. Eyes that know of pain and suffering, torture and cruelty, but only watch with amused emotions.

“Are you ready to die?” she whispers into my ear. I can’t even answer, the pain is too much, but she knows it even without me saying. I don’t have a choice.Dying of the disease might have caused me less pain. I didn't know. My head was spinning, I saw flashes of her eyes, her hair.

Slowly I drift away from the pain, from her. My mind just thinking: I'll wake up soon, I will.

Except I don't wake up.

It's not a nightmare.

It's real.