What Haunts A Monster's Dreams?

[meg 1994]

this is jut a creative writing thing I’ve wanted to do for a while. exploring what my witch character Lumia dreams about and all. enjoy! (hopefully) I might add more later depending on the response.

 

Her breathing was ragged, and short. She would take frequent stops, leaning against the walls of the buildings, old stone, covered in grime and moss and other vile things. It didn’t matter to her, everything was a blur. She had no idea where she was, or who she was, even. She simply trudged along, barefoot, she thought, at least. There was a thick fog, clinging to the ground, and to her eyes, obscuring her vision and senses. She stopped, as the familiar, warm light of a fire illuminated her. The figures, men, she thought, turned to her, something about their faces changed. They looked worried, or perhaps fearful, she could not tell. One approached, slowly, and in an instant the fire was snuffed out. There was a shuffling in the back alley, muffled, gurgling screams filling the night. Everything became clear, as she tore at the flesh, peeling off bits of meat and skin, stuffing it into her gaping maw. A horror washed over her, a deep, primal fear, as she stared down at her stained hands. They were unnatural, twisted, thin and veiny, a pale-ish grey, covered in spikes and ice and blood, littered with bits of flesh and meat.

 

~~~

 

Lumia awoke, panting. She brought a hand up to her face, a thin layer of icy sweat coating it. She tossed the blanket aside, standing up. She straightened out her nightgown, moving up the icy steps of the cave. There was silence, as she approached the table, the other witches asleep, or out, most likely. She reached for a mug, filling it with flesh and blood and parts, tearing it off the remains of some poor dead man. She sat, shaky, gaze locked upon her own hands. Stained with blood, yes, an icy grey, as well, but not spiky, not quite inhuman. She let out a sigh of relief, standing, heading back downstairs.

 

~~~

 

The scene was clear to her, very crisp, and colorful. Lumia stood, in the middle of Laurelin, rocking on her heels. The bottom of her sundress fluttered slightly in the breeze, and she brought a hand up to brush a bit of her auburn hair out of her face. The town square was bustling, elves of all sorts passing through, talking, trading, greeting each other. Lumia turned, scanning the crowd, her eyes locked for a moment on an inhuman figure, black and twisted, like a living shadow, but it disappeared as she blinked, again. Her gaze shifted to a man, in the crowd, a tall elf, thin and pale but not unnaturally so, as she approached,calling out to him, “Ado!’ A smile grew on both their faces, as they embraced. She wrapped her hands around his waist, locking her hands together behind his back. He dipped his head down, whispering something inaudible into her  half-elven ears. Her eyes widened, and there was a deafening silence. The once bustling square was now empty, except for them. She took a step back, shaking, mumbling something in fear. There was a presence, behind her now, but she did not turn, her gaze locked upon the elf, tears welling up in her eyes. The presence’s hands ran along the length of her back, resting on her shoulders. It leaned in, whispering in her ear, clear, audible, and screeching. “You can’t pretend. You’ve always been an awful liar.” Lumia’s lip quivered, as she fell forward, a searing, icy pain welling up at the back of her neck. She buckled, writing upon the ground as her form twisted, quickly, the elvish man stepped towards her, but she could barely manage a whimper. Her almond skin paled, turning a sickly greyish-white. Her eyes faded from a deep sapphire to a white-ish blue, letting off a faint glow. Her hands became like claws, and the ground around her froze. In that instant, the elves from before appeared, now like statues, covered in ice, and long dead. She curled up, eyes shut. The presence leaned over her, pulling her up by the neck. It spoke to her, again, but she dared not look at it, eyes closed tightly. Its voice was like her own, but screeching, grating, it began, suddenly “You know-”

 

~~~

She awoke, again, in silence. Her hands were balled up into fists, and she stood, shaky. Lumia turned, pulling her hand back and punching the wall of ice with all the force she could muster. It cracked, backwards, as she slumped down, holding her hand, icy tears welling up in her eyes. But she was completely silent, leaning against the wall.

[Mephistophelian 977]

((Bloody fantastic read. The feel of a nightmare is real, in this!))

A tree. Always a tree. Lying flat against a broad, thick branch, the man's arms and legs dangle on either side. Heavy bags adorn the space beneath his breezy turquoise eyes, and the sharp chirping of some faraway cricket pierces into the night as if it were but an inch away.

"She was called 'Mother' by the snowy one."

"She was."

"But she wasn't a real mother."

"Just as you are not a real creature."

"I would very much enjoy tearing your tongue out if it didn't involve pain on my part."

"And so? I can still think."

"Silence! Do you want another fight?"

"I always come back, in the end."

"Not for much longer, you wretch. Sleep, now. Sleep..."

The first rays of the sun caress across the sky, giving both men and mice the shadows of giants. The lone figure remains lying on the branch, legs moving with the breeze, his eyes statering emptily at the red sky between the leaves.

[meg 1994]

Lumia leaned over the body of the man, bound, gagged, and lying on the cold hard floor of the basement. He coughed, speaking past the bit of fabric in his mouth, "You're disgusted by this, aren't you?" He spits out, looking up to her. Lumia tilts her head, her expression emotionless. She reaches down, leaning in, pressing a dagger into his neck. As he sputters, gasping for air, she mumbles, "Only in my nightmares...."

~~~

She found herself alone, in her room, like she was very often as of late. The body of the elvish male laid upon her table, torn open, half eaten. She rubbed her eyes, hazy, as she yawned, standing. The body rose as well, sitting up on the table. Its chest cavity was torn open, guts hanging out. Something that previously would have looked appetizing suddenly horrified her, and she found herself paralyzed with fear. "You disgust yourself..."The body whispered, with a sinister hiss, taking a step towards her. She was unable to move, trembling. It stood right before her, reaching up to rest a bloody hand on her shoulder, pulling her closer. "This is sickening, and vile to you...But you can't help it...All because...I demand it." A cold sweat gathered on her brow, as the body in front of her was replaced with an exact copy of herself. It leaned it, whispering directly into her ear, "You said you wouldn't curse her, where is your resolve now? As she slowly succumbs to this condition?" She stumbles backwards, falling back onto the bed. It climbs over, staring down at her, "You have no resolve, is that it? In the face of my commands, of my desires. You're nothing-"

 

~~~

 

Lumia bolts awake, muffling a scream. She tosses her sheets aside, scrambling out of bed. She stands over the body on her table, stabbing it again with a grunt. She lifts her hand, plunging the dagger into the body over and over, holding back tears.

[Elad™ 560]

Moved to the Archive. It shall be sorted into the appropriate category shortly.