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He advanced on her, and she fell back against the stairs, hitting her elbow on the way down. She had barely landed before she started trying to scramble backwards, her feet skidding in their stockings against the carpet. She didn't scream, though she wanted to. She knew it would be pointless. At this point in the nightmare her voice was gone, leaving only a whisper behind. A whimper he would crush out of her as he bled her, laughing at the tears in her eyes. Her feet finally caught against the slick carpeting and she clawed and scrambled herself onto her stomach. She ignored her instinctive terror at turning her back on her Dark pursuer and just ran. She stumbled up the stairs, panting, trying to ignore the stitch that was starting in her left side.
The hallway was long and empty and lines with doors. It was impossibly long and the only door open was, of course, at the very end of the hall. Light spilled out from the room beyond, a beacon of safety.
But she never reaches it, ever. He catches her from behind and drags her into the dark, and her screams go unheard because she can not scream in her nightmares.
The hallway was long and empty and lines with doors. It was impossibly long and the only door open was, of course, at the very end of the hall. Light spilled out from the room beyond, a beacon of safety.
But she never reaches it, ever. He catches her from behind and drags her into the dark, and her screams go unheard because she can not scream in her nightmares.
In my nightmares, there is a house.
It's a huge, sprawling manse, with gardens and a lake, set in front of a dense fog of trees known to me as the Forest of Perpetuity.
It's the kind of house you'd expect in nightmares. Tall and Gothic, with leaded windows that arch at the top and have stained glass panes. The scenes in the glass are all full of pain, the angels and symbology of the catholic church replaced by demon's laughing faces and screaming humans being devoured by night beasts.
The garden has a labyrinth and, though while waking labyrinths calm me and let my thoughts collect, on the nightfields the labyrinth holds only terror and disjointed visions of my pursuer.
It's the labyrinth I'm in tonight, and my pursuer is behind me, identifiable only by the quiet steadiness of his breathing. It's not a dream where my scream won't sound, or where my limbs move only in slow motion. It's a dream of fleeing and searching. I flee from the manse and the labyrinth and into a vast church who's halls and auditoriums all lead in unending circles. My pursuer is dark and vast and inevitable. I flee and search, and never know quite what it is I am searching for. That's the way of dreams. I am crying in a dark room, desperate for relief from the feeling that i must go on, that i must search and flee, flee and search.
A man stand before me. Young and ambiguous. His hair is dark and his eyes are hidden, but he radiates comfort.For a moment I the dual edged sword of emotion driving me stops its piercing.
He smiles and holds out a feather to me. It is royal blue and as long as my forearm and when I take it a surge of hope pours through me, a static crackle of power.
"This is a weapon," he says. His voice is music. "It will protect you."
"Can I have a green one?" My voice trembles as I ask. His smiles glows in the darkness as he begins to dissolve away.
"No," he says. His voice is laughter. "Green is to dangerous for you."
He is gone and i hold the feather in both hands, wondering at it.
Then my Dark pursuer is back, and i again must flee.
But now, the feather glows in the dark beside me.
It's the kind of house you'd expect in nightmares. Tall and Gothic, with leaded windows that arch at the top and have stained glass panes. The scenes in the glass are all full of pain, the angels and symbology of the catholic church replaced by demon's laughing faces and screaming humans being devoured by night beasts.
The garden has a labyrinth and, though while waking labyrinths calm me and let my thoughts collect, on the nightfields the labyrinth holds only terror and disjointed visions of my pursuer.
It's the labyrinth I'm in tonight, and my pursuer is behind me, identifiable only by the quiet steadiness of his breathing. It's not a dream where my scream won't sound, or where my limbs move only in slow motion. It's a dream of fleeing and searching. I flee from the manse and the labyrinth and into a vast church who's halls and auditoriums all lead in unending circles. My pursuer is dark and vast and inevitable. I flee and search, and never know quite what it is I am searching for. That's the way of dreams. I am crying in a dark room, desperate for relief from the feeling that i must go on, that i must search and flee, flee and search.
A man stand before me. Young and ambiguous. His hair is dark and his eyes are hidden, but he radiates comfort.For a moment I the dual edged sword of emotion driving me stops its piercing.
He smiles and holds out a feather to me. It is royal blue and as long as my forearm and when I take it a surge of hope pours through me, a static crackle of power.
"This is a weapon," he says. His voice is music. "It will protect you."
"Can I have a green one?" My voice trembles as I ask. His smiles glows in the darkness as he begins to dissolve away.
"No," he says. His voice is laughter. "Green is to dangerous for you."
He is gone and i hold the feather in both hands, wondering at it.
Then my Dark pursuer is back, and i again must flee.
But now, the feather glows in the dark beside me.
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