“Stand next to the fireplace. There’s no wax over there.” Sandy leapt up to follow her own advice. At that moment, a book hurled down from a shelf and landed in front of the fire.
Orange flickering light drown Pride and Prejudice.
A draft fluttered the book open. It sped through some pages, while on others it slowed, as though it were looking for a specific paragraph.
The pages stopped moving near the center of the book. Sandy leaned in to read the page, looking for some kind of meaning or reason. Before she could see a single word, the center of the book began filling with red. Not wax this time. Blood.
The blood seeped upward from the center, absorbing into the white paper and crisp black words.
“What, did you get a little bored you sick fuck?” Sandy shouted at the ceiling. “Decided it’s time to play again?”
There was no answer. Instead, the edge of the pages, untouched by blood, began to rot. They crumbled with age, as though the book were bio-degrading before her eyes. The blood-soaked portion remained unchanged.
Yet the blood continued to flow. It now pushed away brittle bits of paper. Dirtied and thickened with dust, it oozed gently onto the floor.
“We’ve done something wrong,” Lewis whispered.
Sandy smelled something dead. An acrid, nose biting smell. She looked up and around, sniffing, trying to find its direction. Jina had moved to her side, firelight shining on her face.
Sandy looked back at the book and Jina screamed. The body of a green salamander twisted back and forth as it walked off the edge of the cloth binding. Tiny footprints of blood trailed behind it.
“Let’s go. Now.” Lewis pulled Jina towards the door. Sandy followed close behind. She turned to look back. A full grown crocodile grinned at her from the couch. Crooked, dirty teeth framed its smile. It slid to the carpet, and Sandy slammed the door.
They found another room, down the hall, calm and nearly empty. A waving swath of transparent linen hung from the ceiling, dividing the room almost in half. A brass oil lamp lit the room from a small table by the door. A writing desk sat next to a closet door behind the linen. It was adorned with five unlit candles. A yellowed piece of paper lay between them.
Sandy approached the desk.
“It’s a poem,” she declared. Slowly she read the scrolling handwriting.
Faerie
Silver drapes in agile threads
Crystalline shells lay quiet their heads
Glistening, shimmering, blinding with light
Her hands pluck the harp string to chase ‘way the night
Too thin to be seen, iridescent in hue
Defiantly strong, holds captive the dew
Crafted in beauty, magic conveyed
Deftly she falls, black spider to prey
She softly laid it down to let the others read it, and neared the next door.
The lamp flickered for several seconds, and then went out. Darkness surrounded them.
“Not fair,” she heard Lewis say. “I didn’t get to read the poem.” All she felt was a sickening panic to get out, to find light.
Her wish was answered. A match hissed and flared. Lewis’s hand lowered it to the tips of the candles. When he was done lighting them all, he leaned over the desk and read casually.
“You’ve got matches?” Jina exclaimed. “Damn, I’ve been nic-fittin’ for hours. Wanna light me? I’ll share…”
“I’m beyond nic-fitting. I was forced to quit cold turkey.”
“You poor thing. You need one for sure now.”
Jina fished a pack of Newports out of her gym bag. Lewis lit hers and then lit the one she had given him.
Sandy just shook her head at the nasty habit and put her hand to the doorknob to the next room. The light flickered again as a draft pressed down on the candles.
“Hey,” Lewis looked up from his reading. “Get away from that door. S.A. doesn’t want us to leave yet.”
Jina shrugged in the middle of a French inhale. “So what are we supposed to do, wait around in this room until we get attacked by a giant spider? And then we can go? I’d rather let the lights go out.”
“So you’d rather stumble around this house in complete darkness?” Lewis whirled at her.
“Umm… No. I don’t like that idea either.”
Lewis finished reading, and sighed contentedly with his cigarette as he sat on the floor and leaned up against the wall.
“So what are we going to do?” Jina asked.
“Sleep,” said Lewis simply. He pulled one more drag and snuffed the embers out. Then he closed his eyes and adjusted his head, trying to get comfortable.
Sandy started to yawn, thought better of it, and shut her mouth. Since the subject had come up, she realized that she was pretty tired.
Jina continued to protest. “Well, I can’t sleep. I could stay up all night. And what if something happens while we sleep?”
“We set a guard. Jina, you had plenty of coffee. You keep watch while Sandy and I rest.”
The thought of curling up on the floor seemed very inviting. Sandy found a spot on a small Persian rug in the corner and satisfied her craving.
Lewis was already asleep.
Jina pouted. Then she glanced over at Lewis. He didn’t look comfortable at all. Poor dear. She opened her gym bag and dug out some clothes. She eased Lewis to the floor, put a rolled up shirt under his head for a pillow, and covered him gently with the sweater. She covered Sandy with her jacket.
Boredom struck after making everyone comfy. She dug around in her gym bag until she found a joint. The floor squeaked slightly as she pulled a dusty chair up to the desk. She lit up using a candle, took a few puffs, and idly rifled through the desk drawers.
In the top drawer there was more parchment paper and a fountain pen. She doodled for a while and smoked until her phone vibrated.
Out of habit, she reached for it and looked at the text.
It’s your turn now
Don’t take too long.
For me and Sandy
Write us a song.
Jina showed the phone her middle finger. It flashed back at her.
The song’s for our wedding
Do what you should
Write about love
So long as it’s good
Jina looked over at Sandy. She saw a rainbow from the diamond shining on the wall.
“I’m not playing the game anymore, S.A.,” she said to the desk.
Yes you are. You will write.
The candles flickered, and Jina looked at them. Wax crawled down the nearest one to pool at its base. But it wasn’t wax, and it didn’t harden. It fell from the pool above to form another, filling the base of the candlestick. When it dripped to the desk, it was clear, perfectly clear. Like water. Like a tear falling from her face.
Drops splashed on the parchment, staining it. A doodle streaked.
Her phone vibrated again.
Write.
Jina hesitated. She remembered what Sandy had said. Staring at the candles, she whispered, “You can’t control me. I will this to stop. You’re just a fairy, a fake, not real. Those are normal candles.”
I still haven’t hurt you yet. Only Lewis knows the wounds I can inflict.
“Why did you stop rhyming?” Jina mumbled. “Fucking fake bastard.”
Your mind is soft and squishy. So. Easy. To. Control.
Another candle, further from her, flickered. The melting wax flowed like a river down its side. Like the previous candle, the wax did not freeze at the base. It poured from the candlestick to the desk, sluggish, white, still liquid wax.
Like white hot metal, it rolled towards her. The riverbed wound through the scattered items on the desk, past the snuffed out roach. She pushed her chair away. S.A. would not make her play his game. “You have no power over me! Or something! You aren’t real!”
Her belly began to ache slightly. A vague and familiar weakness crept over her. As the ache in her abdomen increased, the pain spread to her
upper thighs. She doubled over with cramps.
“The wrong time of the month,” she whispered into her lap. Another wave stuck her. And another. With the fourth, she nearly fell to the floor in pain. “Ok,” she relented.
Shakily, she picked up the pen. The wax had frozen into smooth ice hills between the pages. Jina began writing.
Relief came, but the pain still gnawed at her through the words. She’d have to memorize the tune.
At the end of the first verse and chorus, the light was noticeably dimmer. She quickened her pace. The next verse would be easy. The pen slowed as Jina relaxed.
The lights flickered again. She looked up.
All the candles were dripping now. Red streamed against white. This wax would not harden. It would clot.
Sweat beaded on Jina’s forehead. With renewed vigor, she dug the pen into the page.
With every verse, the lights grew dimmer, so that near the end, she could hardly see to write. She paused to rub her fingers, and saw that the flames were not smaller. They were black, like a photographic negative of black candles burning yellow flame. Instead of giving off heat, they seemed to pull it in. The candles made the room feel cold.
Undaunted, she continued.
At the end of the song, she held the page up triumphantly. The room was completely dark now, the flames completely black. A sudden draft ruffled the pages, then a blinding white flash flared from each candle.
In seconds, all but one burnt out. The remaining one still flickered, low in a mound of wax. The others stood, candle-shaped pillars of gray ash. Exhausted, Jina collapsed in sleep.
Sandy slipped into the blackened swirls of slumber. Fog covered her as she floated from dream to dream.
A whispering fell to her ear. She strained to listen. The voice sounded familiar.
“Hello, Sandy. You are mine, and I am yours.”
All was blackness. She struggled to turn, to see anything in this dark, but she could not. Whose voice was that? It began humming some song she’d never heard before. Maybe it was no song at all. It sounded like something Jina would write.
A rose fell at her feet. A light shone on it, but nothing else. She moved to pick it up, but she couldn’t move.
“So what do you think of the game so far? Fun? Exciting? Adventure and romance?”
Something about a game felt distantly familiar. She felt the rose stem between her fingers now.
“You will have another turn in the game soon. You’ll have to wait a little longer than the rest, but it’s coming. Just be patient.”
A far off light appeared. This experience had all the qualities of a dream.
That was it, she was sleeping! Relieved, she let go of the rose.
But the rose didn’t fall. It floated next to her hand. The light came closer. A shadowed figure stood in the middle.
“You seem to have a hidden fear of spiders, my dear.”
Panic sprung within her. She struggled to free herself, but she felt bound. It was still too dark to see.
“You hide it well, but it’s there. I apologize if I have misused this tool with you. From now on, I promise I will only use them when I need to.”
The light and the figure moved steadily closer.
“You know, I think that Jina and Lewis are falling in love. Jina seems perfect for Lewis, don’t you think?”
“Well, actually, I think Lewis is a little unstable—” She could now see the figure. Pallid translucent blue face, tattered clothing, top hat. S.A.
She remembered the horrific events she’d experienced while waking. This had to be a dream. Was S.A. really here, or was her mind sorting out the events of a very confusing and traumatic day?
Two choices: She could either wake up now or wait it out. It could be good for her psyche. Dreams actually only last a few seconds anyway. And if S.A. were really here, inside her mind… Well she knew a little more about his nature now.
She relaxed.
An ambient light grew until she could see her surroundings. It was a closed room, small, dark. Her back pressed against wood, her hands and legs were held tight against it with silver bands.
Panic filled her again. She struggled against the shackles. Mentally, she railed against this reality. This was merely a dream, and she could resist him.
“Don’t be afraid,” he cooed, his voice deep and tender. “I promise not to hurt you here. And as I promised before, no spiders.”
He stepped close to her. Now the dream was lit with firelight. The room closed in, transforming into a cell.
“My love,” he whispered while caressing her face.
Sandy could see his face clearly. His eyes held softness for her, yet a kind of wildness lurked behind.
She looked him right in the eye. “Leave me alone,” she said. “You’re in my head. I make the rules here.”
S.A. stumbled back a little. Her bonds vanished.
“Rule one. Don’t tie me down.”
S.A. chuckled in a low guttural voice. “I like rules. Ok, what next?”
“Rule two, no crazy stuff. No bugs, lizards, blood, birds, or anything like that.”
“Easy enough.”
“Rule three. No fairy food.”
S.A. frowned. “But you need to eat sometime.”
“Not in a dream I don’t.” Sandy stepped towards him and S.A. backed away a little.
“Are you through with making rules?”
“No. Rule four. I get to make up new rules later if I want.”
“That hardly seems fair.”
Sandy laughed a little too forcefully. But she continued. “You get to make up rules as you go along. And you don’t even give me the courtesy of telling me what they are. At least I’m giving you that. So fair’s fair. Now, I have a few questions. If you don’t mind.”
S.A. beamed, almost as if he were proud.
“First question. What is your name?”
He laughed. “Clever girl. But you don’t get to know my true name. S.A. has been good enough so far. Let it be.”
Sandy squinted her eyes at him, but continued. “Second question. What. The. Fuck?”
He took on a very serious demeanor. “What do you mean?”
“What the fuck is going on?”
“I thought you’d figured that out.”
“Have I?”
“We’re betrothed. You’re mine to do with as I please. That’s what the fuck is going on.”
“I’m absolutely not yours. I accepted this ring under duress!” Sandy held up her left hand and took another step towards him. He glanced at it and took a step back.
“No. You stop there.” Nevertheless, he stepped back again.
Sighing, she closed her eyes and imagined a brick wall behind him. When she opened them, satisfyingly a wall blocked his egress. She approached him again, reached out her hand, and touched the ring to his face.
S.A. screamed and collapsed to the ground. Smoke rose from a tiny wound on his face. Sandy loomed over him in triumph.
“You’re just a little man, little inside, nothing but a weak, scared, insane freak.”
“I love you dearest,” he whispered. “You don’t have to love me.”
“You don’t love me! This isn’t love! This is fucked up.”
He whimpered a little, and Sandy backed up. He wasn’t going to hurt her, not here. No sense in berating him more. She would do better to learn more about him.
“Get up.” He crept up the wall slowly. “Next question. What are you?”
“Misunderstood?”
“Don’t try my patience.”
“Have it your way. You guessed correctly. I am fae.”
“What kind of fae? Brownie? Leprechaun? Korichaun? Puca?”
“Imp.”
“Ahhh… of course. Vile Prankster type, right? I’ll look you up in that book when I wake up. Fitting. Unfortunately, not my type.”
“I only wanted your attention.”
“You could try… just dating girls. Asking them out, treating them to a n
ice dinner, a movie, say nice things to them. The creepy crawlies are a real turn-off.”
S.A.’s eyes turned downward, sad. He took off his hat. She saw that his hair was sparse, even though he seemed young. And his ears… No longer held down under the hat, they stuck up above his head a good two inches, ending in thin points.
“What’s the matter?”
“I can’t date girls. I’m trapped here in this house. Forever.” His voice sounded lost, forlorn.
Sandy paused for a while. She almost regretted mistreating him. Almost. “I’m the victim in this situation, not you. Tell me, why are you trapped here?”
“I was cursed to live here when I was born.”
“When was that?”
“When the house was built. They… they beat me, starved me. I was just a little boy. And I could never leave, never go outside, never go to school.”
Sandy started to feel a little sorry for the creature. “Who beat you?”
He did not answer her. Maybe she just needed to help him, free him. “Those curses and spells. In the stories they all have a way of being broken. How can this one be broken?” She already had an inkling of what the answer might be.
“I… I have to marry a girl.”
“Beauty and the beast kind of thing, right?”
“Something like that.”
“Well if that’s all it is, maybe I could marry you just to break the spell.”
S.A. grinned at her. Only an imp’s face could make such a smile. He stepped towards her.
“L-Look it would just be a marriage of convenience, right?”
“No! Mine!”
Sandy backed up. He seemed taller than he had before.
“Stay away…”
He continued grinning and ran his tongue across his top lip. Sandy felt the power shifting, and she desperately tried to order her scrambled thoughts. What was it she had done before? The dream lost lucidity, becoming more dreamlike. Shadows and shapes loomed around her. What was it again? Something had stopped him before…
He reached his hand out and touched her face, almost violently. “Mine. My… little… fiancé.”
Fiancé. Engagement. That was it. The ring.
She held up her hand and he shrunk back. She had to remember where she was. This was her world, her dream, all the power was hers if she could only remember it. The ring anchored her, filled her with a feeling of reality, strengthened her resolve. It leeched the energy from his illusions, grounding the dream once more.
Make Willing the Prey (Dreams by Streetlight) Page 7
