In The Wildest Dreams

His eyes burned like torches in the darkness. His smile was something
sinful. Blackness loomed around him always, like the night was his
cloak. He came to me, for the first time and ever after, in a dream.
Frenzied speech and all devious grins. "You are my sinner, little
angel. You are my pride and joy." And I stood there, in a flowing gown
of white. The light imaginary breeze took up my hair in blackened
waves. I did not stop him when he came to me, and wrapped me in his
arms. I did not stop him when he kissed me, gently.


I woke from my restless sleep, still dazed by the conflict of
feelings. No matter how beautiful his words, or his tones, I was
utterly afraid of him. My sheets laid scattered across the stone
floors. The whole day was a blur, another day roaming the halls of the
estate, making idle pleasantries. It was just another day that swept
by me all to quickly. And by nightfall I was standing at the foot of
my large canopy bed, nearly dreading its comfort. But soon I convinced
myself I was being irrational. The man from my dreams, was only that,
a dream. I convinced myself that I could not feel his touch, that his
kisses were not real. And with those comforting thoughts I sunk into
the ivory blankets and curled into a light sleep.


It wasn't long after I had dozed, I found myself standing on a tall
mountain peak, staring down into all of his creation. Those below me
were shapeless, just black masses of squirming nothing. Fires rose
from large crevices in the ground. Thick black smoke seemed to scream
all around me. A thin hand came down lightly on my shoulder and a kiss
was planted in my hair. I stood there, unable to speak, scarcely
breathing. He laughed, so melodic through the torment I was seeing. He
laughed and laughed, until suddenly he was silent and he turned my
head roughly with his fingertips, cold eyes staring hatefully into
mine before he dropped to his knee's and began to weep. Such bitter
tears slid down his porcelain cheeks, such heartbreak in his heaving
sobs. I lowered myself down to the dirt with him. "Wretch." He
stuttered through his tears, the sorrow in his voice hurt me down to
my core. "It is beautiful." I said quietly, knowing then that this was
created all for me. That he wanted us to sing and dance beside the
rivers of crimson, sleep on it's banks. He smiled at me and took my
hand and sang some silly song that made me laugh.


I awoke in my bed, just as before. Scared and confused. He seemed to
need my love, like a child. But the visions he gave to me as gifts,
were far to terrible for me to cherish. I accepted him that night, and
for days, months, even years, I allowed him to come to me in my sleep.
To show me affection, to give me the visual gifts of his world. He
would sing and dance, and call me Queen. He proclaimed that this was
my land, this was my doing. He acquired me a crown and placed it upon
my head each time I found myself in his world. It gleamed like I had
never seen, such radiance. Upon closer inspection I had found it to be
composed of slender bones from hands and feet of god knows what. But
I'd smile and I'd let it rest upon my dark hair as if it were
something precious. I feared his weeping.

Then the day came. Mother was afraid I'd be naught but a spinster. At
twenty seven years, I should have been long since wed. I'd been
avoiding those who'd tried to court me until my age finally brought no
men to our doorstep. But... the day came, when Mother came and
announced our neighboring Lord had requested my hand after loosing his
wife to illness. I was to be wed to him within a weeks time, yet
instead of horror, I felt excited... I longed for a real touch.

In the following nights, my dark hearted prince would look at me for
long moments as I sat in my throne of ash and bone. Standing he would
stare at me then lift his hand, bringing it down hard on my cheek
"Wretch! I give you my soul and you break it!" And after his rants and
abuse, he would lay his head in my lap and weep asking "Why do you
make me do this to you?" and I would sit, much like stone, no
expressions on my face. I would assure myself this was not real, but
in the mornings when I woke, the bruises told another story.


On the night before I was to wed I retired to my chambers early. It
was time to leave my Prince to his world, and finally, focus on my
own.


The wind blew hard, the sky was a deep shade of red. He stood smiling
at me, dancing merrily to some unheard melody. "You came to see me
early tonight, you've missed me!" He was as gleeful as a child. He
poured glasses of wine and ushered me to my throne. I sat there
staring at him, trying to figure out exactly how to tell him, how to
interrupt his festivities and tell him that this was the end. Slowly
his dancing had stopped, as did his laughter and song. As if he had
read my mind, his eyes flared up with horrible fire. "Wretch!" He
screamed, as he had so many times before. His long arms reached out
and took up my own, holding them tightly. His black painted nails dug
into my flesh painfully.


"Please" I begged "It has to stop." But he didn't hear anything I
said. A storm raged over our heads, lightening cracked dangerously
close, striking the ground around us. "I gave you my soul! My pride
and joy. My sinner!" He screeched and the masses of bodies below us
screamed in unison. My soul ached, I couldn't see anything but red.
Then, he smiled, a horrible smile as dark black wings spread out from
his back, and he held me close. "My love should never be turned away
child. I offered you the world. Now it's you I offer to the world." He
seethed between his laughter and he tossed my body over the cliff.

When his hands left her body, he leaned as far over the edge as he could to watch her brilliant white gown disappear into the dark, squirming mass of his children. Her screams coursed through him, yet even as he wept for her, he began to giggle. Giggles turned into a manic laughter that had him stumbling backward and falling out of the dreamworld and onto the dampness of his most private quarters. He felt her lifeline snap, all it's energies, as meager as they were, flowed into him, fueling his mania.

Then all at once, his laughter turned into a dark, vicious growl. "I almost had her," he snarled to no one but his shadow. He lept onto his feet and ran his fingers roughly through his multi-lengthed hair, his orange eyes lighting like newly stoked flames. He felt a pull then, a subtle tugging on the very edges of his vision, drawing those strange eyes over toward the small, natural pool in his underground dwelling.

"I've visitors!" he chimed out loud, merrily. He danced himself over toward the water and lept into it. As he let himself sink to the bottom, he closed his eyes and used the energy he'd so recently gained from his doomed 'Queen' to pass his sight from his world to this other he'd stumbled upon.

Beneath the clear water, his eyes opened, and he saw that funny little town and a lone soldier with his horse drawing near to the fountain that served as his 'window'. "Well hello to you," he thought to himself, grinning wolfishly.

Closer Nalani's guard came, closer. He eyed the fresh water of the fountain hopefully. If water that clear still poured from the fountain, then perhaps Hrvesgott was not cursed beyond salvation. Finally, he fell to his knee's before it to take a small sip to quench his parched throat. At first, all seemed well. He got to his feet and turned on his heel to resume his search... and then it struck. His cheeks began to sink inward and his eyes bulged. His skin turned ashy and began to wither away.

The red-headed man giggled gleefully within the water as he felt the man's mortal coil snap, the energy rushing into his plane and into his veins. The water the guard had drank snapped up out of his rapidly disappearing throat in long tendrils, that reached out for the horse. "Come closer, pretty," the red-head thought, his finger curling as if the beast could see it.

The fingers of liquid lashed out at the horse, raked along it's flanks, and pulled bits of it's life away. But the beast proved too quick to be devoured completely, and fled out of his reach, taking what little life it had away.

With a great gasp for air, he rose from his pool and fell backward onto the stone floor. He flailed his arms and legs about, giggling. "Oh they seem darling."