by Jack Hammond
“I'm pleased you do, I’ll let you get on with your shooting game.”
“It’s a first person shooter, mum,” he corrected her.
“I’m sure it is.” Holly laughed as she left his room.
It was almost ten before Wesley embarked on a snack raid. His stomach had recovered from the earlier bout with the birthday buffet and it was clearly ready for round two. Ducking his head into the fridge he filled a plate with a couple of sausage rolls, scotch eggs and three quarter cut sandwiches. Wesley paused as he debated with his gut if it was up for another piece of cake. The buffet scored a psychological win as Wes shook his head. It didn’t matter, the only wins Wesley was interested in were the ones on his console against Luke, but sadly they were none existent. The pair had battled on every type of game, sports, fighting, you name it and Luke had bested him on them all. Wesley didn’t mind, well not that much anyway.
“How’s the game going, Wes?” Chad asked.
“I'm getting owned,” Wesley happily told him.
“He’s that good?”
“Better, he’s a monster!”
Holly sat with a drink and a magazine. Finally enjoying her well-deserved break, looking relaxed, she smiled at Wesley as he made his way back up to his room.
“Go get him, son!” his dad called out to Wes positively.
“Well,” Chad said getting to his feet. “I’m calling it a night. Holly the food was as always perfection. Joe,” He turned to his brother, “you’re a lucky sod.”
“I know, I know.” Joe replied with a huge grin on his face.
“Thanks for coming, Chad.” Holly said, the pair walking him to the door.
“See you soon, brother.”
“That you will,” Chad said with wave.
Joe gave Holly a peck on her cheek before hugging her. “I am a lucky man,” he confirmed.
“Yes, you are. And don’t you forget it,” Holly jokingly declared as the two of them switched out the lights and made their way up to bed.
Holly tapped on Wesley’s door, before popping her head in, “Don’t stay up too long now, you have school tomorrow.” She informed him.
“I’m just getting off now,” Wesley said.
“Night then, happy birthday sweetheart,” Holly said closing the door shut.
The bedroom was a typical teenager’s room. A mishmash of posters from bands and movies, to scantily clad girls and video game vixens adorned the walls. The unruly shrine of clothes in the corner were usually scattered about the room, but Wesley had the foresight to tuck them out of view before his mother came in. Even Wes' desk was a mess, the black glass, with silver trim was covered in comic books, school folders and sketch pads.
Already yawning, Wesley said his goodbyes to Luke and made his way to bed. He sat on the edge and kicked off his trainers, threw his T-shirt and jeans onto his shrine and then glanced at the huge mirror. He couldn't escape the unnerving sense it gave off as he closed his eyes and settled.
It was cold, reaching out for the quilt Wesley tried in vain to find it. His hand thrashed around trying to locate the cover. Wesley was on the cusp of waking; he didn’t want to disrupt his sleep anymore and knew if he opened his eyes that would be it. He could hear noises, a howling wind. Not convinced he wasn’t still partially asleep, Wesley suddenly felt alarmed.
Something was wrong. Although he was on the border between slumber and being cognisant, it wasn’t like a dream. The sensation, the noise, it seemed real. Wesley knew he had to open his eyes, but he was too scared. He had to force himself to do what he feared.
It was a darkness like no other. At first he thought maybe his eyes needed time to adjust, but it wasn’t that. Wesley was now wide awake. Wes climbed to his feet, and just stood there, motionless. The odd shiver shuddered through him as a howling wind seemingly from the distance echoed. In the midst of the bleak chasm, Wesley looked around without moving. His eyes tried to find some light or at least an end to the dark. The sensation of uncertainty was strong, but it was gradually being replaced by an overwhelming sense of dread. He wanted to scream, but who'd hear? He considered running, but to where? Too afraid to move, or speak, Wesley remained still. The expanse that had swallowed him up was not a dream or a nightmare, it was real and that scared him beyond anything he had ever encountered before.
The sound of cheering rippled through the desolate blackness, like a wave of water rolling towards him, picking up momentum before crashing against his ears like rocks on a shore line. Out of nowhere something appeared. An enormous structure in the midst of the nothingness, shocking him for a split second, Wesley moved forward. One step, after the other, each one filled him with confidence, no longer scared, Wesley could see the building clearly now. Gigantic columns and massive pillars of rock formed an unyielding colosseum in the abyss’ darkness.
Another cheer erupted from within the rock walls as more details came into focus. So close now, every crack and chip in the dry sandstone was visible. The colour and magnificence of the structure was vivid and vibrant, it could only be a dream, he thought. A huge doorway stood atop of the stone staircase which reached from out of the blackness.
Another sensation ran through Wesley, excitement. He was actually excited. It was obviously a dream, a wondrous, exhilarating dream. Wesley felt stupid for being so scared only moments ago, but now, seeing the colosseum, hearing the cheers what else could it be but a dream?
A giant figure stood motionless at the foot of the steps. So consumed with the building Wesley had not even noticed him. Dark blue robes covered his muscular physique, a red rope hung around the doorman’s waist. With a hood covering his face, only pale white hands could be seen. A moment of uncertainty passed over him, it wasn’t fear, Wesley was confident of that, but he didn't know what to do next.
“Contender,” its voice was deep and emotionless, “Or observer?”
“What?” Wesley questioned without thought.
“Do you fight or do you watch?” the cadence in the voice was unwavering.
“Watch,” he replied.
A door in the sandstone began to rumble open as he raised his arm. “Enjoy!”
Passing him, Wesley’s uncertainty swiftly vanished. “Thanks,” he said casually ascending the steps. The sensation of sand under his bare feet, felt real. But strangely, it was not uncomfortable. His jaw dropped as he stepped through the doorway into the belly of the colosseum.
The atmosphere was thick and heavy, a wave of heat hit him just as the immense sound had. A deafening cheer erupted again from the crowd of people that lined the tiers. His view was blocked from where he stood, so he pushed his way through the masses. The smell of perspiration, the unexpected sense of clamminess from the bodies was so tangible and real. Wesley forced his way between them, reaching the edge of the tier, he looked out over the colosseum floor. Three times bigger than a football pitch and covered in soft golden sand, the arena was made for battle, and the multitude of hyperactive spectators had come to see just that. Wesley waited with eager expectancy, at what would appear in the amphitheatre below.
Directly opposite Wesley, on the other side of the Colosseum was a section that stood out. The Tuscan and ionic columns that made up the theatre were not used here, he could clearly see they were different. The rounded Corinthian stone had mosaics depicting images Wesley had never seen before. Symbols and writings that strangely he expected to be Roman were not. The fact the colosseum seemed similar to a Hollywood re-creation of that period, he had just assumed it would be the same styling, he wasn’t sure why.
Between the Corinthian pillars, cut off from the rest of the enthralled crowd, like a private box sat shadows. They were not shadows in the general sense, they were covered and he couldn’t make them out. They were actual shadows! They seemed to have been crafted from the very darkness beyond these walls. They formed figures, seven in all. Six of them sat in a line in front of the seventh, he sat alone. Not on a throne, but on the hard rock seats that everyone else used. Though it was
obvious he, she, or even it was the main player here. He was some kind of Emperor or Overseer and for that reason; he appeared darker than the other shadows. Deeper, more menacing, but Wesley didn’t know how he saw that. Like the expanse outside, he knew that it was no ordinary darkness, but he couldn't explain how.
Falling silent as the shadow took to its feet, the audience waited for something. It was only now Wesley had actually taken notice of them. He'd barged his way through to see the arena, noticing the sweat, heat and noise, but failing to see their faces. They were all children, every one of them. The ages varied, some older than Wes, but the majority were younger. He couldn't see any adults, all the kids were unaccompanied and for a moment, he had worried for their safety, but it was merely a dream. A magnificent dream, no doubt brought on by the late night food raid. They always said cheese gave you nightmares, what the hell had that cake done he thought.
Then a voice boomed out. It did not echo through the columns of stone or fill the air like an explosion of light. It exploded directly inside Wesley’s mind. Intense! He thought. It was like wearing headphones, the voice appeared to speak only to him. But why wouldn’t it? The dream was his, and everyone else he'd just passed in the street. Although even Wesley wondered if he had ever seen this many people, but the mind was an incredible thing.
“It is time for the event!” the voice announced. “The contender has reached the required echelon to challenge.”
This was interesting, Wesley thought. A nervous anticipation now coursed through him as he stood on tip toes to get a better view.
“Enter the contender.” The voice declared drawing out the last word.
A cheer of support erupted from the crowd as Wesley made out a figure at the far end of the colosseum. Dressed all in white, he drew a sword and began to limber up kicking, swinging and slicing at the air. Wesley assumed as he looked to the other end.
“And now,” the Overseer, announced “the Champion!”
Wesley’s eye caught the line of shadows as one of them leapt into the sky. Its form suddenly evaporating into the ether before a mammoth swirl of black smoke appeared at the far end. Like a whirlwind it spun furiously, increasing in size and speed. A roar from within the swirling blackness erupted, the assembled peoples cheers unexpectedly rose to a level that made Wesley grimace. As the whirling began to slow, the formation of the creature was complete.
“Oh my God,” Wesley exclaimed, shock and excitement melded together, to form the expression which was frozen onto his face. An enormous dragon made of rock. Black stone formed the beast; a thick larva ran between the cracks of its body. Molten magma spewed from its mouth like a waterfall. Wesley looked back at the ninja and felt a hopelessness for him.
“Clash!” the voice said filling his head, more clearly than the crowd’s applause.
Wesley had realised the man in white was a ninja, although he had never been that interested in them growing up, he went along with it. After all somewhere in his mind, he had decided the ninja would fight the seriously overpowered dragon, why? He couldn’t say but it was amazing to watch. A display of blinding light was followed by rapturous applause as the shinobi; Wes had already written off, did the impossible. The sword had produced emerald chains that had wrapped around the creature constricting its movements, before performing a spell, in the centre of the amphitheatre.
Wesley stepped back. He had actually felt the force of the dragons roar as had everybody else. The beast took to the air, Wesley’s eyes and mouth opened wide. The dragon was free. An earth shattering boom shook the colosseum as the monster smashed into the ground. Wesley knew what was coming next; he could see the smoke, the fury, the power. The creature released a roar, so thunderous and deafening the crowd was silenced, as the ninja was engulfed. The dragon's rage was there for all to see, whirling funnels of flame, soon became monsoons, filling the theatre with a seething heat, blistering flames of searing red rose to fifty, even sixty feet in height.
Then it was gone. The arena was empty of fire. On the floor lay a small boy, no longer a ninja, but a child not even ten years old. Wesley did a double-take, what happened? He tried desperately to make sense of the dream but he couldn’t. Wes turned his gaze to the dragon as it reverted back into the mysterious shadow, it had once been. The voice spoke again as it returned to the other shadows.
“The valiant Shinobi has lost,” the Overseer said, without a hint of surprise. “The Champion wins!”
A round of applause echoed around the arena as the people took to their feet. Wesley’s view was blocked again as he tried to see the child on the arena floor. Then the cheers started to cease, slowly petering away. Turning to his right, Wesley saw the crowd vanishing. Like puffs of smoke they just popped out of existence, shifting his attention to the left he was faced with the same. Within seconds Wesley was alone. The noise, the heat, the atmosphere, it was all gone. He looked at the adjacent tier; the shadows remained seated, as did the Overseer.
He had the impression they were watching him. Although they had no eyes, no features, it still felt that way. Unable to take his eyes off them, Wesley debated shouting, calling or doing something as similarly pointless, before he noticed. The leader had gone. The Emperor, King, Overseer, whatever it was, had vanished just like the other members of the crowd.
“Wesley.” The voice said.
Not filling his head like before, but very close Wesley turned around. The shadowy apparition stood before him, reaching out a hand, Wesley moved back quickly.
“This is where you wake up!” the voice shouted.
His eyes popped open, and he shot up in bed. Wesley’s body was rigid from the fright. Wesley glared angrily at the leftovers of his birthday buffet, on his desk. He wanted to give the food a piece of his mind, but which piece? Even Wesley wasn’t sure what was in there, in fact he felt ridiculous, being scared by his own subconscious. Wesley swung his legs out of the bed and held his head in his hands.
“What was that, Wes?” he questioned himself out loud. “What a dream,” he continued. After all he couldn’t call it a nightmare, could he? He had been through all the ranges of emotion, fear, exhilaration, wonderment, inconceivability and just plain weirdness, which was surely more than just a nightmare.
After going downstairs for a glass of water, Wesley took a few hours to settle, before he felt able enough to go back to sleep. He was apprehensive at first as he lay back down, not a hundred percent sure if he would continue the previous dream. After wrestling with the possibilities he closed his eyes and drifted off once more.
The morning was sharp and crisp against Wesley’s ears as he stepped out of his house into the cold November air. A heavy frost had fallen during the night and the road was covered in white. The gardens along Alberta Terrace were a glistening white spectacle. The very same cars that would be left running before their owners dared face the cold. Ducking his head, Wesley attempted to shield himself from the seasonal wind that whipped viciously at him. His school boots crunched loudly along the street. In the distance was Nottingham Road, the vehicles had already backed up from the rush hour.
A bright red Audi TT, with black alloy wheels and a body kit had been in Wesley’s sights almost all the way down the road. The pasty faced driver hadn't moved an inch, in all that time. He mouthed obscenities into the cold air hoping the traffic would listen to him, it wouldn’t. Wesley couldn’t help laughing, catching him, the man shot him a glare. Wesley stopped and gingerly navigated his way through the cars. He could feel the drivers stare burning into his back as he turned off the main street onto Hamilton Road.
It was dark, the tall trees blocking out the frosty morning sunlight. The houses sat back from the pavement, the newly built homes were made from red brick and gloomy looking grey slates. A car sat in every drive, even though they were different makes, they all looked pretty similar in design. As he reached the end of the road, he could clearly see his school in the distance. The two Science blocks speared high into the sky. The English and Mat
hs buildings came into view next. The campus was old and time had turned the browns and greens it had once been painted with, into a more dismal dreary tone.
Wesley told himself, it wouldn’t be long as he waited at the traffic lights. He was in his final year and couldn't wait, not that he was confident of a prosperous future. In fact it hadn’t even entered his head. He just hated school, he wasn’t bad at it. He was actually good at his classes. It wasn’t that he was bullied or unpopular, he wasn’t. Wesley happily coasted the cusp of the two worlds, neither noticed nor ignored. It was a pretty bland existence, very much like the school decor he thought, a smile forming on his face.
He entered the Guildford school yard, through the big rusty gates, a group of buzzing first year kids passed Wesley like airplanes around a tower. He winced at the noise, not long now, you’re almost there! The truth was simple, it was getting harder keep his interest each day. Wesley didn’t think he was better or smarter than everyone else, another formation of first years buzzed past him again with a high pitch squeal, some he did, he thought to himself.
“Wes!” A familiar voice hollered from the English block to his right. “Wes!” he repeated.
Wesley saw Luke and quickly altered his speed from a casual walk to a brisk pace. Luke was dressed in the same green and black uniform as Wesley, his bag hanging off his shoulder by one strap.
“Man, that game is mint.” Luke began instantly.
“Yeah, it was okay,” Wesley’s was less than impressed.
“What’s up, Wes?” he asked genuinely.
“It’s nothing.” Wesley replied.
Luke knew he was being less than truthful. “Come on, what’s up? You’ve never gone funny on me over games before.”
Wesley smiled. Luke was concerned he was out of sorts over the drubbing he’d received at his hands last night. “No, I’m used to that.” He laughed. “I had the weirdest dream Luke, I mean proper mental.”
