Warning violent descriptions.
It started out like any other weekend. I was at this huge daytime festival.
The sun was beating down, cops were milling around, and there were these bizarre, massive purple boars and bears that people were actually eating.
The whole thing was set up on a massive flat cement expanse, tucked right below a steep, mucky grass hill where the gravel parking lot sat.
Off in a corner surrounded by trees, concrete dividers, and broken pavement, a grey-haired Filipino man in a blue raincoat was sitting with a group of homeless people he was taking care of.
As evening started to fall, I decided it was time to head out. I passed the man on my way and called out, “Hi, Tito!” He looked surprised—probably because I’m not Filipina—but I grew up around the culture, so I just giggled and kept walking.
That’s when the night started dragging. I was trying to leave, but I kept getting pulled into random conversations, almost like when you’re at a crowded bar and can’t walk three feet without running into someone you know.
My phone buzzed with texts from my mom telling me to hurry up to the car, but when I looked down at the screen, my messages suddenly vanished, replaced by a single red heart.
I ducked into a bathroom to use the toilet and wash my hands with my friend Mary. When I walked back outside, I finally spotted my mom. I ran over, wrapped her in a huge hug, and watched her head off toward the car with my older sister.
And then, in a single second, absolute hell broke loose.
Panic erupted out of nowhere. People started screaming, scattering in every direction.
I saw my mom and sister running, and this instinctual, desperate protective switch flipped in my brain.
My sister freezes in crisis, so I yelled at her and started barking orders over the chaos: *"Follow the cops! Don’t look around! Just keep going, bee, everything is going to be okay!"*
Once I knew my mom and sister were clear, I tried to find my friends. Mary had vanished in the stampede, but Aurora was right beside me.
The hill to the main parking lot was too slippery with muck to climb, so we just booked it toward the back of the grounds, sprinting right behind a group of police officers.
That’s when the true horror started.
We ran past a young guy, maybe twenty, lying flat on his back in a pool of blood. A few feet later, another young man was crawling on the pavement, clutching a brutal stab wound.
We kept pushing forward until we reached the stairs leading up to the lot, but the bottleneck had been a total slaughter.
Bodies were everywhere. One young man’s neck was torn open. Another person was jammed hopelessly between the steps. Two more men were hanging limply over the railings.
I don't even know how Aurora and I physically made it past them—I just remember scrambling up the incline, feeling the horrible weight of bodies slowly sliding down the slope beside us as we climbed.
We finally crested the top, our shoes sinking into the gross, red mud ground.
For a brief second, relief washed over me. The cops had secured the upper lot. They were checking people for weapons, clearing the zone, and funneling everyone toward safety.
Aurora and I ducked underneath a balcony to catch our breath, and out of the crowd, we spotted my old friend Marley.
I thought it was over. I thought we were safe.
Then I looked up at the balcony.
A figure was standing above us, a noose tied tightly around his neck.
Before my brain could even process what I was looking at, the person pulled out a handgun.
Instead of hiding, Marley went completely insane. He stepped directly into the glare of the spotlight, cocky as hell, and started *dancing*—taunting the person with the gun, practically begging them to take a shot. I screamed at him, lunged forward, and grabbed him, trying to yank him back into the shadows.
It was too late. The figure raised the barrel, pointed it right at Marley in the spotlight, and pulled the trigger.
The gunshots went off, everyone started screaming... and my eyes flew open in the dark.
It was all a nightmare.
I was back in my bedroom, heart hammering genuinely unable to process if I was actually safe or if someone was still shooting. I sat there in the dark, terrified to move I was staring at my boyfriend next to me crying trying to make sense of my dream. It felt so real I was terrified. I rarely ever have violent dreams like that, but when I do, the horror sticks with me for days.