II - Dream I

PART 1                                                                                                                                   

A nightmare. The landscape is barren. Only ash and dust and sand. Or is it ice? The light has faded only an apparition, an afterthought of light remains. I can’t discern the figures around me but I feel them. Shambling, vibrating, shifting in phase space. There are no beating hearts amongst the crowds as I sift through the forms. A low rumble cascades over the ground and up my boots, into my legs and around my body. Every few moments it returns making the coattails of the specters jostle and wave. The sensation tickles me but the feeling turns to dread as it disrupts the rhythm of my own heart's pounding. Like two waves meeting in a break causing both to explode and cease to exist creating something new. Yet it is not as simple as crashing waves, something more terrible is being created within me. 

                  My eyes mist over with terror as the dim light finally fades and all is drenched in darkness. The forms around me have a silver glow that illuminates after a time. I look at my hands; they also glow now. The rumblings increase in interval and I feel as if the sand beneath my feet is about to give way. My legs are turned to jelly and the warmth is whisked from my skin. I turn to try and find an exit from this hellscape of darkness and vibrations. Each pass my eyes make I only see the silvery forms shifting, coming closer, and closer. I long to scream, hoping the abrupt sound will shatter this mirage like a mirror and all that I know will return to my eyes. I hear a pinging, off in the distance, as the forms engulf me. I feel a weight upon my chest and I struggle to breathe. The pinging turns to a bell toll, then to a crashing of rocks down a cliff face. A knock, a terrible echoing knock.

                My eyes flash open. I see the faint outline of my room. It was all just a dream. My eyes are turned upwards towards the ceiling. A faint light is shining, a silvery light, from between the pane and the curtain. It was only a dream. And yet, if it is only a dream why does the weight on my chest persist? I look down and I behold a new sight. The first time I would witness the shadowy creature that lurks beyond my door. It is now, in a small devilish form, made as if of smoke or fog, sitting on my chest. Tiny teeth are bared in the wisps of shadow and tiny red eyes pierce me. The cold and vibrations return as the room starts to rumble. Beyond the tiny devil in the corners of the room stand a procession of others. Faceless, voiceless, silver outlined shadow beasts all facing my direction. I feel their gaze though they have no eyes with which to see. And then I notice them, two red dots, not unlike the devil on my chest, floating in the masses. I gasp hoping the sudden rise in my lungs will cause the devil to vacate its perch upon me like disturbing a cat from its humble sleep at ones feet. It does notice, it doesn’t even move up though I know my chest was filled.

                The silver light from the window grows brighter and the devil cocks its head to the side and I hear it whisper. Its voice a cold dagger of shrillness I can barely describe. A scrapping in my skull like a knife across china.

                “Succumb…succumb…succumb to the dark.” It says.

                The door flies open. A draft from another room has caused it to act violently. I blink and the forms are no more. I blink again. Was it another dream? Was it all a dream? Am I still asleep now? I wonder all these things as my body does not move. I am paralyzed but I am not afraid now. The weight on my chest is gone and I can breathe easily.

                One part of my soul screams, “I wish to never witness this again! Such horrid terrible dreams.” While another, smaller piece whispers. I can hear it over the screams. It's almost childish in its words. Like a child that has found a dead mouse, lightly petting it, wishing to hide it somewhere and keep it as a secret pet from those around. Knowing that the macabre sight would displease many. The inkling of rebellion has been etched and the boy whispers.

                “I will succumb. I will succumb. To the dark. To the silvery devils. To the red eyes. I will succumb.”

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