Chaos (The Realmwalker Chronicles Book 1) Read Online Free Page A

cradle its wounded face.
    I turn and run.
    I’m running as fast as I can but I’m hardly getting anywhere. The world is in slow motion. My legs are heavy, like I’m running underwater.
    I can hear the thing behind me, snarling in rage. I make it to the hall. I can see the door at the end. It’s cracked open and a bright light shines through. If I can only make it into that light, I know I’ll be safe. The thing’s frantic breathing is right behind me as I run. It’s getting closer. The heat from its breath is on my neck as I reach for the door knob. I won’t make it in time. Any second it will tear into my back with burning razor claws. I get my hand around the knob and pray my sweaty grip will hold as I throw open the door.

Chapter 3
    Everything is flooded with brilliant white light. I hear a distant and muffled keen of defeat in the background and know that it must be the thing that used to be Tori. I step into the blinding whiteness, not knowing what awaits. As I bring my foot down into the room, it meets only air. I try to grab the doorframe as I’m slipping downward but it’s too late. I’m falling.
    I’m tumbling head over feet into the white void. As I try to stabilize myself, I have a moment of clarity. I realize with relief that I’m dreaming. Tori is still Tori. She is not a demonic creature bent on my destruction. It’s difficult to relax, however, while hurtling at full speed toward the ground. My heart pounds loudly in my ears. The only other sound is my gasps as I fight to breathe against the silent wind. I scan the black-and-white world beneath me, trying to figure out where I am.
    As I get closer, I see I am plummeting toward a suburban neighborhood. Cookie-cutter houses dot streets in perfect parallel lines, and a few cars are parked outside some of the residences. There are no cars in motion, though, or people walking about. Everything is still—like a black-and-white aerial photograph of an empty town.
    As I descend even more, the houses and lawns become clearer and I start to feel that familiar choking sensation of panic. I’m breathing faster and fighting the urge to scream. Down and down I go, nearing the point where it will be too much for me.
    I know it’s a dream—it’s always a dream. I can’t get hurt. But how can I feel the wind whipping my hair around my face? I shouldn’t be able to feel anything if I’m really dreaming. That’s what they say, isn’t it? That you can’t feel anything in dreams? Then why are my eyes stinging? No, it’s not a dream. Somehow, I’m really falling and when I slam into the street below me, I’ll really die!
    I’m fighting with everything I have now. I kick my legs, flail my arms, grunting with effort. My grunts turn into whimpers as I realize there’s nothing I can do. This is the end of everything. I squeeze my eyes shut so I can’t see the last few seconds of my descent and the hard black street that will claim my life. The last word screaming through my mind is Dad!
    And then, it stops. I’m not falling. I’m lying perfectly still and it’s as though I have fallen onto a giant cushion of air. It isn’t painful. My breaths come easier than when I was falling. I peek through squinted eyelids, expecting to see my own bed beneath me and my dark room all around, but I can’t make sense of what I see.
    I open my eyes wide and turn my head from side to side, taking in everything. I’m hovering in the air over the neighborhood street, suspended about ten feet off the ground.
    Well, this is new .
    I’ve never had a falling dream like this before. Everything is still bleached of color and there is still no sound but my breathing.
    Before I can contemplate my situation further, I begin to feel a light pressure on my back as though a gentle wind is blowing downwards against me. It steadily picks up strength, and as it grows stronger, the cushion of air below me starts to push up. The competition between the two is uncomfortable, and my hair