The People With The Axes

I had another nightmare this morning. It's been a while since last they came, but they haven't lost their power. Imagine yourself standing in the middle of a crowded room, and you're wondering why all these people around you are screaming. You look around. Everyone, including yourself, are wearing beige-coloured, unisex clothing. Many of those you see are clutching their own arms. Some are crying. There seems to be something horrible going on, somewhere close, and you can see how people are trying to move away from it, knowing that there is no where to go.

Slowly, you realise the reason for all the cries and the screams. Somewhere in this room, fellow humans are, neatly and as inevidably as the passing of time, slicing off the hands, feet and heads of the beige people, no way of knowing which feature they're going to pick when the turn comes to you. You turn. You run. Your fingernails are screeching on the glass of the windows. Your hands are fumbling with the ridiculously heavy chains on the doors. Your heart, pumping as quickly as never before, is trying to jump up out your throat, trying to suffocate your growing sense that
(I got a real bad feeling about this)
there actually isn't gonna be a miraculous rescue this time. That no one's gonna come for you, and that you're not gonna be able to save yourself like you always have, cause you're too dependent now, too dependent on the people with the axes who are holding the keys.
You panic.
Sweating from your nightmare, you open your eyes, flicker, hastily sit up, look around. Your familiar red bedroom walls. Your bed, your pillow, your school books... your boyfriend, soundly asleep... holding your keys. All the same. Same as it's always been, and as it'll always be, same old future rushing to face you.
And you panic.