The witch visits you in your dreams. She only comes once. She looks like your typical teenager except there was something off about her. Ominous, something evil but not quite. Just enough to give you an unsettling feeling. Maybe it was her voice that sounded too old for her, too raspy. Every word she speaks makes you want to clear your throat. Or the way her eyes burned with maleficence. There was nothing that suggested she could be anything other than a normal person you pass by the street on a normal day, but still, something about her felt wrong.

Scaffolding. I lifted my head up to look at how tall the structure was. There was nothing else around, only this dilapidated collection of metal rooted in the ground. Tarps hung from rusting bars. In fact, it smelled like iron everywhere. Metallic. Like blood.

Fight or flight. I climbed up the first bar out of instinct. I knew it wasn't safe and judging from the rust the structure looked unstable, but the feeling that something wasn't quite right convinced me that I had to run away. There was nowhere else to go. The brown earth stretched as far back as my eyes could see. This was the only way to get away — to get somewhere.

Reeling from the adrenaline, from fear, I grabbed the lowest bar. The rust itched and scratched against my palms. I found my footing and lifted my weight up.

I made it to the third level and that raspy voice started.

"Hey. If you make it to the top, I just might let you go."

She laughed. Her laugh reminded me of an uncle whose voice had been damaged from smoking six packs of cigarettes a day, rest his soul. "Easy feat, right?" Her tone was taunting, but I was pretty confident I could do it. I looked up. The structure didn't seem that high. Twenty levels, at most. I'm certain I could escape this uncomfortable hell.

I didn't look down when she spoke. I didn't want to look into those eyes but I knew she was addressing me. I mean, who else? There was no one here but me. No one. Nothing.

I only looked down to see if she was still there.

“Hahaha what are you even worried about? I'm going to let you out anyway. But you're going to have to pass it on. Now climb up and get out.”

Wake up.

An illness of some sort, they called it in the waking world. Now I know it was the structure. They are still there — here, trapped, enduring a rain of mud that wouldn't stop as they struggled to reach the top. Still hearing the witch's taunting and screeching. Testing one’s will and determination to escape.

You were having a bad dream.

But some nightmares carry on even after you’re awake. Today is just another day of climbing.