I Tell Myself It's All A Dream
Moonlight poured across the damp icy streets in a flood of melancholy. The world around basked in a dim pastel blue hue. The inky abyss of the heavens absolutely void of any twinkling stars or beautiful music created by the many creatures of the night.
Everything was silent and the world was still. The drop of a pin able to echo endlessly as not even the darkest reaches of depravity made a sound. It was these nights that the dream came to a halt, the fleeting thoughts of imagination searching for those worthy of eternal slumber.
The city cast in a shroud of vast emptiness, stirred restlessly as a simple flicker of light exploded out of the blank canvas. The weakened light of a crude bakery barely coming to life, the world around it full of uncertainty. A silhouette of a skeletal woman creeped out of the front, the building's wooden door sending an eerie creak across the calm sky.
In her twisted arthritic hands, she held an oversized box of stale bread. Several pieces coated in the foul stench of mold, the baker reaching an oversized rusted green dumpster ready to hide away her rotten wares.
Glimmering blue eyes shined out of the shadowy alleyway watching in silent hunger for the old crone to complete her mission. The twisted Baker pausing ever so slightly as if listening for any signs of life. The delicate sound of a belly rumbling from a few feet away giving the hag all the proof she needed, hastily tossing the bread into the trash.
She then fished out a crude lock and key.
With a nimble click, the feast of filth forever locked away.
For none to taste of its delectable decay.
Her footsteps faded away into the distance, the Baker retreating into her den of routine. The dim lights flashing off once more, the rumble of hunger the only sound echoing in the night.
“Monstah.” A tiny little girl stepped out of her hiding place in the alley, hidden behind a stack of moist filthy boxes.
Feet bare and frozen, colored a pitch-black from endless miles of wandering.
Her only item of comfort and warmth that of an old tattered green cloak. Her translucent blue eyes glowed in the neglectful dark of this apathetic world. She was alone in this fleeting dream, the call of the nightmare growing ever louder.
Like claws upon a chalkboard, it howled for a new dreamer. It beckoned for fresh life and a pure heart, for nothing was better to feast upon than that.
“Are you hungry?” His voice suddenly caught her attention from off in the distance near the icy open streets.
“Hmm?” She watched from the darkness, eyes falling upon the figure kneeled on the broken cement sidewalk in front of her.
“You seem as if you're starving?” He spoke with a genuinely caring voice, his gentle gaze hidden behind crimson glasses.
Indeed he was pure thought the frail shivering child. The Nightmare never mistakenly placing her in a reality full of absolute cruelty, sadly if he proved himself further. The child stepped out into the pastel hue of the streets, she knew she'd be obligated to damn him into a personal hell.
“Monstah tossed away the foul feast.” She replied her face hidden by the dark.
“Stale bread isn't really a meal.” He chuckled his hair a complete mess after a long day's work.
Reaching down to his side he held a warm bag of fresh food. It was a simple meal of a hamburger and hot fries, something quick to indulge in on this cold long night. Without even a second thought he would offer his meal to the shivering child, who in reply gave a soft gasp of both gratitude and regret.
“But why?” She spoke in a ghostly tone.
“Well you look hungry, besides my favorite show is MLP. What kind of brony would I be to not share a bit of generosity?” He chuckled wholeheartedly.
“Such kindness.” Her tiny hands clutched the warm bag.
“My name's Jimmy Hook, lovely to meet you.” Jimmy watched as the child nodded sadly in place.
“Aurora.” She replied back as her frail arms squeezed the warm bag.
“That's a pretty name. - Why are you out here alone?” Jimmy questioned worriedly for the child's well being on an icy night such as this.
“In search of dreamers.” Her voice began to crack.
“Dreamers?” Jimmy matched her tone.
“Hope is what she craves, to rot away the good in life with nightmarish decay.” Aurora glanced upward to this innocent soul cast away into the void.
“Are you…” Jimmy felt himself cut off by the child holding out a tattered yellow raincoat towards him, drawn by an unknown force he blindly accepted.
“She's made up her mind, please don't forget the glimmer in the night.” The child spoke in a haunted tone, her eyes burned a dull orange color.
“Glimmer!?” He felt confused.
“You should've just shown cruelty!” Aurora broke into a flood of tears a howling echo calling her back into the vast emptiness.
Before he could react, the young child was spirited off into the thick darkness of the alleyway screaming. Jimmy gasped in sheer terror the child's fingernails lay scattered across the damp cement floor, his mind begged him to flee and forget anything he witnessed.
Yet his heart urged him to follow into the unknown. Guided by courage and protected by hope he clutched the raincoat in hand, swiftly he ran headfirst into the bleak ink like womb of the nightmare.
The alleyway stretched out like an uncurled snake into the nothingness. Jimmy could feel his lungs burn as he followed the ever faint screams into the empty night. The world pitch black around him, palms sweaty with the sensation of terror that only despair can bring forth.
If he was frightened by this horrible sight. What chance did that poor child stand, she was frail and weakened by the merciless weather. Jimmy let these thoughts race through his mind, never noticing that his powerful masculine frame dwindled with each step he took.
Soon he was no more than four feet, four inches in height. His feet easily stepped out of his massive shoes, clothes clung to his body like a feeble oversized tent. Fear gripped his heart unable to see exactly what was happening to him in the dark.
His body felt so weak as his limbs became beyond frail. His once broad frame shrinking to more resemble scrawny little matchsticks. He felt his neatly brushed hair become tangled by weeks of neglect growing outward over his eyes femininely, a layer of filth coating his skin as if he were homeless.
“What's happening to me!?” The tiny voice of a young girl echoed into the abyss, his hand clutched to his throat frightened, she sounded no more than nine years old.
Everything felt monstrous and tall. She felt the vulnerability of the world casting her aside, she felt alone, cold, and starved. Falling to her knees in the horrid nightmare, the little girl wept fresh tears for some kind of mercy to be granted.
Her body shivered as the icy grasp of the nightmare engulfed her. It loved the innocence of youth most of all, better yet this fool believed in the magic of friendship and love. What better dream to twist into absolute terror than this, in time the new child would break.
And the darkness would feast, such a delectable feast.