It began as it always did. For a long moment, there
was silence, rich
with her thoughts, her vision. The pen trembled as
she gripped it.
This was going to be so hard. It was time to put the
dreams
down...expose them to the bright light of day. She
sighed, took a sip
of her coffee then drained the cup. A glance at the
clock revealed it
was going on four in the morning. She laughed, but it
had a bitter,
hollow sound as it echoed in the room. There could be
no better time.
She began...
It always begins the same. The feeling is always
the same...a
knowledge that this dream is different. The emotions
are truer, a
brighter hue and more bold. The demons that haunt
these shadowy
corridors aren't nameless. They are real...and they
aren't alone.
There is darkness...emptiness so profound that it
steals all
comfort...sucks away any vestige of peace and replaces
it with fear.
Not just any fear. No. This is the fear that robs
you of reason.
Fear that clots cotton in your mouth, pulls it free to
replace it with
the sharp mettallic taste of adrenaline...or the
coppery bite of blood.
You know there are monsters there in that darkness.
You can smell
their fetid breath...every smell that causes your
belly to roil, rising
the bile to your throat...that smell rests within
them. It's in the
darkness. Their eyes gleam: black, molten wells that
see to the very
core of your soul as they advance, claws extended,
dripping with blood.
Teeth, razor sharp, exposed and gleaming in some
unholy light, oozing
saliva that burns, hissing as it comes in contact with
the ground.
Closer and closer he comes...ever closer...towering
over you...
He never reaches you, though. Just as you know your
fate is sealed,
the darkness melts away. Light pours in, blinding you
in a moment so
you don't know if you're asleep or awake. Then the
dream begins...only
you don't know it's a dream. It feels real. The
colors are just as
bright. The smells and sounds just as ordinary.
There is still the
acidic bite from the adrenaline, but you forget why
it's there...then
it, too, fades. You relax, lulled by the light...the
ordinary feel.
It's just another day, another dream.
But this IS different. Underneath...deep, deep down,
you know this is
NOT ordinary. You know something is wrong...or, more,
that something
is not right. You sense the difference. It's not the
place of dreams
where you rest peacefully.
No.
It is the world between worlds...where the creatures
in the dark do
draw blood...where the dreams take on new form, drawn
in new, more
challenging patterns. It is the place where, if you
die during this
dream, chances are you won't see another sunrise.
She paused, then set the pen down. She rose, then
left the sanctuary
of her room, turning on lights as she went. In the
kitchen, she put
water in a pot and set it to boil. More coffee. She
needed more
coffee. She had to put this dream down on
paper...purge her soul of
it. Maybe is she did, it wouldn't haunt her...maybe
it would stop
coming back...over and over and over.
She fixed the cup, took a hesitant sip, then hissed as
the scalding
fluid burned her tongue. She blew across the contents
of the cup, took
another tentative sip. It didn't burn quite so badly
this time. Her
tongue was already numb. She retraced her steps,
reluctantly shutting
off lights as she went. The page beckoned her,
gleaming stark white.
Carefully she set the cup on her nightstand. She sat
cross-legged on
the bed, the notebook on her lap. She took a deep
breath. The dream
was there, just beyond her sight. All she had to do
was close her
eyes, and it would come. She picked up the pen, and
her hand shook as
the words once more began to flow...
Christmas. This time, it was Christmas. Carols
played, a soft
lilting back drop. Familiar tunes from a childhood
long forgotten.
Vague scent of peppermint beneath the pine,
reminiscent of another
life. So long ago...so free.
The couch beneath her was familiar, and not.
Something inside told her
that she had never seen it before, but she shook that
thought away.
How could she not have seen it before? She saw it
every day. She
lived here. In one corner, a pine tree stretched from
floor to
ceiling. Multi-colored lights winked at her; tinsel
gleamed, sparkled
as it swayed gently in the barely discernable breeze
from the old
heating system. Candy canes rode the edges of many
branches.
Ornaments hung suspended, still not so many as to hide
the true
beautiful nature of the tree itself. An angel in a
flowing white gown
perched at the top, her dark hair framing her
porcelain face. A memory
niggled at her. The delicate angel in his hands as he
handed it to
her...him telling her that the angel reminded him of
her, and he knew
he'd had to have it the moment he'd seen it. She'd
looked up then,
lost herself in his hazel eyes...
"Merry Christmas," he said, his hands finding her
shoulders.
She smiled, watching as he came to sit beside her.
"Hold you," she
said, opening her arms to him. Smiling, he came into
them, and they
held each other. He nuzzled her neck, and she
snuggled against him.
She closed her dark eyes, taking a deep
breath...inhaling the scent
that was his and his alone...a scent slightly masked
by the cologne he
wore...a scent she'd learned in the dark one hot
summer night...a scent
she'd know anywhere. He belonged with her...he was a
part of her, and
she of him. Two halves of a whole...forever.
She clung to him a little more tightly, fighting the
uncontrollable
urge to cry. Grief surged within her, but she didn't
understand
it...fought to push it away. His soft drawl slipped
through her
senses, "What's wrong, sug?" he asked. She shook her
head, clutching
him still tighter...she wanted to weep...to howl.
"It's not fair," she cried softly, trying to burrow
deeper into his
arms.
She could feel his confusion, tangible as her head
rested against
him...as his heart beat beneath her fingers...her
cheek. "What's not
fair?"
"This!" she cried, one arm sweeping wide, encompassing
the room with
her gesture. Sorrow swept over her as realization
dawned. None of
this was real. Possible a promise of what might be,
someday, but only
a dream...not real. Tears slid down her cheeks. "Not
fair," she
breathed, her breath catching on a sob. "Not fair."
The images faded then, losing themselves to the
darkness. Alone once
more in the blackness, the emotion overwhelmed her.
The ground rushed
up to meet her, and she knelt, sobbing out her
torment.
The pen dropped, and she set the notepad aside. She
was trembling, and
tears slid down her face. She rolled to her side,
clutching the pillow
to her chest. Tears and tears and tears...overflowing
until they wet
the pillow.
Her shoulders shook with the force of her sobs. It
hurt so much. It
had seemed so real. She'd first had the dream the
first night she and
Tim had made love...over a month ago. She'd awakened
in his arms,
tears in her eyes. He'd held her, asking her what was
wrong. She'd
shaken her head, holding him tight as the dream slowly
faded. 'Just a
dream,' she'd said. He'd coaxed her into telling him
about it, and she
had. His response had been to tell that you never
knew what might
happen.
That was before the world slipped from beneath her
feet, and he'd
turned away from her. He'd given her hope, made her
believe again that
forever was possible...that maybe, just possibly, she
was worth loving.
As with so much else, she was wrong.
She cried until there were no more tears. Hiccuping
softly, she
eventually slipped into sleep. All too soon, she
started to dream...
The TV was on, but she really wasn't paying
attention. She kept her
mind focused on the book in her hands. It was better
this way. Living
her life in the pages of a book. Safer. No more
pain...a bit boring,
perhaps, but no more pain. Her heart was beyond
repair, but her
soul...it was her soul that wept now...bloody tears
from a thousand
fractured edges.
At least she'd stopped crying. She sniffed, the sound
very loud in the
bedroom. She fluffed the pillows behind her, settling
herself more
comfortably.
KNOCK - KNOCK - KNOCK
Her head snapped up. Setting the book down, she sat
up, swinging her
legs over the edge of the bed. "Come in," she called,
not rising.
The door opened and Tim walked in. "Hey." He shut
the door behind
him. "Debra said you were hiding in here."
"I'm a turtle," she argued, watching him with wide
eyes. "It's called
strategic retreat." She watched as he crossed the
room to her. He sat
on the bed beside her. "Debra said you were back."
"I missed you," he said, one hand laying gently on her
thigh.
She pushed his hand away. "Don't," she warned in a
deceptively soft
voice.
His smile faded, and he sighed. "Didn't you miss me?"
he asked, his
face drawn in his best kicked puppy expression.
She'd missed him, ached for him, longed to have his
arms around her
again...trouble was, she'd missed him since before
he'd gone away for
three weeks. He'd chosen Suzie over her, and that was
why her soul
still bled.
She ignored his question, asking instead, "Didn't you
get my last
email?" She made a show of pulling away, settling
herself back against
the pillows, careful to avoid all contact with him.
For a moment, he looked uncomfortable...but only for a
moment. "I
did."
Her dark eyes lifted to meet his hazel ones. She let
her mask shatter,
let him see her pain...pain that had laced that last
email with every
word. She'd revealed herself in all her
vulnerability, and said
good-bye.
She picked up her book, fingers toying with the
tasselled bookmark.
"Well, then," she said, not meeting his eyes. "I've
said all I needed
to say."
"If you would just be patient..."
Her dark eyes snapped up to his hazel ones as she
interrupted, "Why?
Why should I be patient?"
"Maybe we could..."
"Maybe? Maybe?!" Her voice rose shrilly, and she
forced herself to be
calm. "Maybe I should sit here twiddling my thumbs
bloody while you
fuck Suzie and fuck your way around the state, is that
it? Sit here,
foolishly hoping that you'll deign to grace my life
with your presence
or a phone call once in a while?" Taking a deep
breath, she looked
down. The book was bent double in her hands. She
smoothed the
binding. She was calmer when she raised her gaze to
his, but not much.
"I loved you," she said, forcing her hands to stay in
her lap. He
opened his mouth, but she rode over him, "I loved you
and all you
wanted from me was a good time. I loved you and you
lied to me..."
Angry now, he broke in, "I never..."
She sat up straighter so they were nose to nose. "You
LIED to me, told
me you loved me, made me believe I had found someone
who cared about
me. Made me believe I was worth loving." Her voice
broke at the end.
Tears started in her eyes and she looked away. And
she'd thought all
her tears were shed. One more thing she was wrong
about. Softly, she
said, "I could forgive anything but the last, Tim."
She choked back a
sob. "Anything but the last."
His thumb wiped away her tears, and she smacked his
hand away. "Don't
touch me," she spat, batting his hands away.
"Don't be that way, sug."
Her palm connected with his cheek. The sound was very
loud, and, she
decided, very satisfying. "Don't EVER call me that
again." Her voice
was steel. "And don't ever touch me again." His
mouth worked, but her
gaze kept him silent. "Go, Tim, leave. You pushed me
away, and I've
stayed away...stayed in this little box you put me in
until you're
ready for me. Now you want to pull me back for a
little fun...time to
come out and play, but I'm not coming." She sat
forward so they were
once more nose to nose. "You know what, Tim? You
managed to do
something that no one else has...you destroyed my
heart, my hope, my
faith." She gave him a wry smile. "Congratulations."
Her lips
twisted as she added, "I won't let you destroy my
soul. Better than
you have tried, and failed."
"You're my soul-mate." He reached for her.
She shoved him, hard. He rocked back, nearly falling
off the bed.
"Then maybe we'll get it right next life." She got to
her feet.
Everything happened so fast. Tim stood, pulling her
into his arms.
The knife was in her hands. Where it came from, she
didn't know, but
it was suddenly trapped between them. She felt it
slide between his
ribs. His blood soaked her hand. Hot and thick, it
covered her. He
slid out of her arms, falling bonelessly to the floor.
His hazel eyes
marked her. There was no anger, no accusation. There
was pain, but,
above that, there was something that brought a scream
up her throat.
There was love.
"Love you," he whispered. One hand reached for her,
then fell to the
floor, palm up, as his eyes fluttered shut.
She screamed.
