Prologue: My Nightmare

Eustace’s Perspective:

I hear the hooting of an owl as I turn over on my side and open my eyes, darkness is the first thing greeting me, as the only light that makes its way into our bedroom this late at night is the moon. Not quite a full moon yet, but there, on the windowsill is an owl I am quite familiar with. Sue as I’ve come to call her, I accidentally fed one winter’s night—I had set a mouse trap in the kitchen and found it set, so I took the body and tossed it outside when she showed up, now coming back now and again to see if I won’t give her more.

Staring at it, shaking my head, “Not tonight, Sue.” I tell it as I hear something patter, as if soft footsteps running on the hardwood floors just past our open door, opposite wall from the window. I think I see a leg dart by as Sue flies into our room, over the bed my wife and I sleep in and out of the door.

Silent, I stare at my wife’s sleeping face, her mouth only partially open as I hear her quite breaths. I’m afraid to wake Muriel so I adjust the covers and head for the door. Walking with a limp as I carry my left leg—old war injury. I pause thinking, thinking about that wound, a bullet ripping though my muscle, in one side, our the other, was clean, but still the mental trauma haunts me as the room shifts, a creek but I see a face, like a child version of my wife, black hair much like hers and I get the sense there are two of them...two daughters.

I loose the painful thought and move forward. Finding that the moment I step though the threshold of my room, I am in an over grown forest. A Jungle really, the house containing this environment, I still see it’s wooden walls beyond the plants and vines that cover the walls, like a perfect balance of nature and man-made.

Sue hoots again, down the hall already, waiting for me as if in slow motion, waiting for me to take note of them. There are two silhouettes, one far more defined, the black hair girl that looks like my wife, the other, taller, an old sister, but with black hair. They turn their backs to me, walking though the closed double doors at the end of the hall that lead into my study. I hear laughing as well, although muffled, echoing as if I’m not ready...Muriel is pregnant, I knew that, but this dream, it’s assuring me of the future. I’m at peace.

Chuckling to myself, amused by my dream, I follow them, small footprints shining on the hardwood floor, leading to where they went I give chase, my heart skipping for joy at the thought. Sue landing and resting on my shoulder as I feel the warmth of my study. I feel safe here as the room is bathed in firelight and I can see the fireplace ablaze, a form stoking the fires as he stands, it’s myself, but older, not by much. Coming to the railing of the interior balcony that over looks the study, I stop at the top of the steps, looking downward at Muriel sitting in one of the arm chairs, stroking a form in her lap. The girl that looks so much like her.

And then I see myself, sitting in my arm chair, muffled words echoing in the room as I am reading a book to them, but sitting next to the chair, green eyes stare up to me. Confirming to myself, that we’re about to have a family of two girls, a year or so apart but this, this will be my family.

Sue nuzzles my ear, and screeches a happy tone as a grin comes to my face as where I am standing fades, and Sue flies off, as the world around me changes to a sunrise, the sun warming my body and lukewarm shades of red blanket the skies, as I feel my body swaying with a silent melody.

I’m very high up, recognizing the steeple of the building I’m upon from the new black and white King Kong movie, it’s the Empire State Building that I am dancing on laughing with myself as I am fearless as I do a back flip off one of the risen platform antennas, landing with ease and laughing to myself.

The tower quakes though, but I continue my dance, enjoying the euphoria of knowing that I’m about to be a father to a daughter...and that we’ll have another one. Two of them, I’m in bliss as the ground quakes once more as I approach the edge of the towel, seeing down below as the asphalt splinters as soap foam starts to ooze out of the cracks and a deep feeling of dread sinks into me. A flash of green fills the skies as the sun begins sinking and everything becomes ominous as a large skeletal arm breaks though skies, as if it was beyond that, just a haze, but once it meets the sky, it shatters like glass coming like freight train and slamming into the tower as I fall over the railing, sliding down the side of the building before out of the suds at the bottom a large white snake appears, opening it’s mouth wide as I’m swallowed and wake from my dream.

Ruby, our all black sheepdog pouncing with much excitement, a very energetic pup. I lose the air from my lungs as I try to push her away, gasping for air as I struggle with the sheets. Muriel now waking as she laughs softly but then she notices the open window. Sue is there, wanting food and I know I’m not dreaming anymore.

“What’s she doing?” Muriel asks as I rise, getting out of bed. Standing still and gaining my composer before moving.

“I’m closing the window, go away Sue.” I ask her, remembering who I named her after, my aunt. She takes off, flying away as I close the window and return to bed, a smile on my face as Muriel rests a hand on her swollen belly.

“It’s kicking more and more as of late…Eustace, what’s that grin?”

“We’re having daughters, two of them.” I exclaim, completely ignoring the validity that my dream could possibly not be true, but I so wish it to be, I wish to see that scene of all of us sitting around the fireplace in my study and I reading them a story before bedtime. The thought dawning on me, a large grin coming to my face.

“We don’t know that.” She tells me, rubbing her hand on her belly, “and I thought you wanted a boy?”

“I’ll paint them, I’ll bring out my oil’s set. I can show you them from my dream.” I place a hand on her cheek, staring deeply into her eyes, “One of the, she looks just like you did when you where a kid, the other, a deep black like my mother’s, but with my green eyes.”

“You sound so sure of yourself, I thought you lost your imagination, you haven’t touch the brush in ages.”

“I’ll be happy to paint again if only to prove to you we’re having two daughters, I don’t consider it a premonition, more a knowing, and a believing.”

“There’s still a few more months before we’ll know for sure, but it that is what makes you happy, I’ll hope we have daughters as well.”

“Hope we have healthy children, I don’t want you to change your own thoughts to fit my own.”

She smiles at me as I lay down next to her in bed, Ruby climbing on top of our bed and making her way to my wife as she gets back under the covers and Ruby placing her mussel on her belly as she rests on her side.

I bring myself close to her as well, an arm over her shoulder as she squeezes my arm, “I wish too for a daughter then.” She says, as her breathing softens and she drifts back to sleep, Ruby staring back at me as I rub her shoulder and find myself awfully tired as I too fall back asleep. No other dreams come to me as all I see is Sue, staring at us from the windowsill that I’ve already closed. Her beak opening as soft words are spoken, “Be strong Eustace.” an air of warning about it as nothing more comes this night.

Sitting in my study, I look out the large two story window, pipe in hand as I mull over the past few days, and how I’ve just become a father to my own daughter, Charlotte who Muriel is tending to. I’ve been at peace for a long time now, but flames drift into my mind, green flames as a flash of fire and black skeletal bones tower in the center ring of the grand circus I used to love when I went as a boy.

Those where happy times back then, before the big tent collapsed, before I suggested to them to use fires in Muriel mother’s performance. To make something grander, to make something people have never seen before. Something from One’s imagination, and to shock people.

They where already using skeleton costumes along with Muriel’s mother, who was known to all who witnessed the spectical as the Mistress of Death. Their performance was of dancing skeletons, along with clowns, a sort of flirting with death as it were, trying to liven up the people during the great depression the mass deaths that came due to starvation. Some people saw it as a sick joke, while others enjoyed it, laughing.

There I met, Muriel, but our folks where long time friends already. We’d play with eachother around the big tent with the other kids of the families that all made the circus possible.

Late one night while talking with Muriel’s mother, she was sadden how people where just not enjoying the show as much as they could, she wanted to do more, but had no idea what…

“Eustace, you had such a keen thought about Christmas, I don’t know how you thought that up…” She went silent for a moment remembering that not even a year or so ago my parents died when out ice skating.

I can’t get over the feeling from my dream that night, that Santa and saved them...I look to the rough sketch I’ve done of the scene with my two daughters, a feeling of waiting, wanting to believe that I am right, but awaiting to see her born, even just one of them. To know that I am right.

I pretend to be over it back then, but now I realize it just festered. But I went along with her request. Thinking at the time Christmas was due to all parents being magical only on Christmas day and riding out of the north pole with presents for not only their kids, but others. A whole fleet of Santa Clauses. I still like the idea as if makes far more sense then a single fat and jolly old man handing out presents. If my daughters ever found out that we gave them presents with Santa’s name on them, I’ll tell them that. I’ll tell them that we get magic abilities once we have kids.

I suggested to make a larger skeleton, I suggested to give it wings, to make it fly. She just laughed at the suggestion, telling me we can’t make it fly, but we can pretend to.

Muriel liked watching me act out what the skeleton would do. I suggested make them darker, black even. “But how would the audience see them if they are black, sure we have the flood lamps, but still…”

“Then add fire, green fire and change your costume a bit, from bright white colors like an angle to darker ones to fit the black skeletons. I gave her a thought from my imagination remembering us burning some copper in the fire pit last time we went camping. People already call your act the Mistress of Death because you dance with the skeletons, but why not command them like troops in an army?” I used to like war, I was a fan.

“Such an imagination, and how would I preform if I had darker ascetics? What would our act be?”

“You will use your command and fight the larger skeleton, pretend it’s trying to take away someone you loved. Like Muriel.”

She looks to her own daughter, but has a sparkle in her eye and agrees to preform the new act after discussing it with the ring master of course.

Half a year later, I went to their new performance, witnessing Muriel’s mother staring down the larger then life skeleton they had made as an act to put on, and green fires are shot up all around when the flames engulf the large skeleton and collapses on Muriel’s mother. The big tent went up started burning while I was knock down, almost trampled as herds of scared people left the tent, all blur to look like the black skeletons that I suggested, running past me, flames of green dancing around them.

My parents death, Muriel’s mother...My friends. I pause to think of us during the war and a regrettable feeling sinks in, as I think Death may have it out for me.

I take a huff on my pipe and drift away from the world, wanting to forget such unpleasantness. Muriel called me a knight, referring to some of my earliest paintings, before war took it’s toll and I lost that same drive I had to fight others, to fight some unseen enemy as I can see myself trotting on my desk before me, riding on a white pegasus, metal armor covering me and a blue cape behind me, like some superhero. I explore that forest within my own home, as the familiar scene arises. I must have fallen asleep.

Riding the pegasus though the house, the cramped rooms fitting it’s large wings as I direct myself to our daughters room. Beautiful flowers lining the walls as her door gets covered by soap suds and I pass though them as my mount is gone, I am on foot as I hear a loud scream come from Muriel as a mortar shell blast though the suds beside me and I quickly find myself in my old military uniform with my friends in combat. The sky but a mix of gunfire and smoke, hardly any visibility what so ever.

Ralph lying next to me, rifle on his chest as he’s breathing heavy and I look out of the fox hole as bullets wiz by us. Eddy tried to charge and lies above us, I saw a bullet rip though his side and he fell down, unmoving.

Johnny went to try and retrieve the body, and meant the same fate. All that is left of our unit now is Ralph, Kevin, Jimmy, and myself. And we’re all but swarmed as armed Nazi charge in front of us, impaling Ralph with a bayonet and taking him to the ground. I head further into the fox holes, unable to help Ralph in the slightest as I pulled out my pistol and shot a man between the eyes. He falls backwards.

Inside the fox hole are even more as they already raided our camp, Jimmy lies on the table near the radio dead, while I see Kevin’s last moment as he takes three of them in here with him, yet two remain as they come after me.

I try to leave for the door when green flames shoot up from the ground and the Nazi’s behind the flames march though, becoming blacken skeletons. I shove my way though, realizing my Shell Shock mind is rearing it’s head again, it was such a pleasant dream.

Breaking free from the small group, outside are hordes of them, from all ages, in armor or on horse back, not just from the time period I’m from, being a fanatic when it comes to reading countless books on wars growing up. The Draft was the best thing that could of happened as I had romanticized war. No longer feeling that same way, War, war isn’t something to fantasize about…

Black obelisk arising as mounds of black bones rest beneath. Chains latching onto each individual skeletons and hanging in the air all around us. I run past them all, the insanity of the dream so much more realistic then usual as I hear a wail and turn my attention to the beating of large wings even though no skin is attached to those bones. A large white skeletons like giant travels over the ground. Hovering, and much larger then the horde that continues to war. Black theater clothing around it’s body, a chain link around it’s waist and connected to all the chains that I can see now are shackle to those warring. There are many more white skeletons following him of their own free will. Leaning against his left shoulder, he carries a large scythe and his head mask by a tattered layered black and gray hood. It’s eyes glowing a piercing red.

In awe by his form, never having seen it so lively before, a lone baby cradle in all this mayhem rest as the white skeletons begin to circle the cradle, hand in hand with other as they dance around it as the large scythe wielding one leans forward with a hand, a finger outstretched as I realize I am looking at Death, and that baby crying, that’s my child, that’s Charlotte!

Rushing forward, pushing the hordes out of my way, breaking my way though the ring of white skeletons and cry out, stepping in front of the Grim Reaper’s finger, staring up at him while he looms over the crib and my baby cries.

I hesitate to move, his form so imposing while he stares back at me waiting to see what I will do. I stop my stillness, rushing to the crib and grabbing my baby, swaddled in a pink blanket as I hold her close to my chest and run, Death stomps forward, no longer hovering and giving chase to me, following me as the winds around us pick up and soon the skeletons that have fallen are being lifted off the ground like fabric in the winds and joining the roaring currents of other skeletons in a green furry as my sight gets skewed by the debris of war and upturned soil around me from tank fire. A hunting wail echoing though my ears as I feel my arms soon empty and I turn back around, only to see Death’s face coming closer.

“Charlotte!” I yell, waking in a cold sweat and I look around me, feeling for Muriel. I’m frantic as I turn on the lamp next to me, and see she’s gone, getting out of bed, I rush down the hall to where the nursery is and open the door with a thud.

My wife gives off a soft scream in shock as I stare blankly at my wife staring at me with a shocked expression as I blink a few times before realizing it’s well past midnight and she’s nursing the baby.

“Sorry,” I shout as I close the door gently behind me and make my way down the hall way, toward my study, this home, inherited by my father, and now to me.

Walking down the grand steps into the study, I wonder when I feel asleep. The dream feeling too real, and there is still an off feeling now. I turn on the lamp at my desk, and I pull out my pipe as I smoke some near the window. Only now realizing that my leg is throbbing and I run my hand over my thigh, and indent, a scar still there from a bullet that penetrated my skin and robbed me of any further involvement in the war, but I am glad for it.

I pace, I walk on the damaged leg and limp, feeling it and being glad for it all that more as the doors to the upstairs hall open, my wife hurrying down in her bathrobe and she looks startled still.

“Eustace, are you alright?”

“Did you finish feeding her?” I ask instead and she stops before me, a petite woman with a full head of curly brown hair, cut short, yet eyes and dimples of an angle.

She nods and she takes my hand, leading to the ground as I follow her. She sits down before our large, two story window that over looks the night skies, a full moon shedding light into the room.

She guides my head, my ear to her heart to calm me from my stress, from my nightmare as she pets my head gently, “You had it again, that dream.

“Damn Death was going for Charlotte…I wasn’t going to allow it.”

“It’s been years since you were apart of combat…when does it go away?

She naively questions the nature of war, and it’s aftermath, while I listen to her heartbeat, tears arising in my own eyes, “It doesn’t, it never will. I’m sorry I couldn’t be that painter you hoped I could be, but every time I try to paint anything more, all I see is the hordes from my dream, the countless skeleton's warring.”

“It’s okay Darling, just focus on what you can do, focus on being a good father for Charlotte and if we have any more kids.”

“We’ll be having more,” I laugh though my sadness, “I don’t want her growing up alone without a sibling, my childhood was so boring with out any siblings that my friends where that…but I saw them all die…”

“Hush…” Muriel, lifts my head to face hers and we kiss, “You are very headstrong, you’ll do great.”

Her words are muffled as I hear the crackling of fires and we part, as I stare at the flaming skull of one of the black skeleton's that I’ve been lying on, pulling myself away I run, only to be hindered by my bad leg as the room around me grows dark, my study, my one place of solitude now a grave as the large glass window that was once peaceful shatters inward and the Death floats just beyond as the floor cracks and gives way to many of the skeletons and green mist floating from them. I am snagged by their hands as they try to pull me backwards.

I grab onto the banister for dear life as the Death brings his arm into my home as those same green torrents shatter the other windows, then they blow past me, loosing my grip, and ripping my hands from the banister as I am sucked into them, flowing with the skeletons around me as Death jumps onto a dark cloud and off we go into the night as the winds tear the trees foliage with great force. He twirls his scythe as if playing with us as our current forms a figure eight as I scream before I wake with a start from my wife who looks at me with tired eyes from her place next to me in bed.

“Eustace, Eustace, you awake?”

Panting, still sweating I stare at the room around me, at my wife, “Is Charlotte safe?”

“I just checked her, she’s fine.”

I throw off my covers stumble out, ignoring my cane that’s by my bed side and hobble to the nursery to find that my wife’s words are true, she’s sleeping with a thumb in her mouth as Muriel joins my side.

“Another nightmare?”

“They somehow sucked me into thinking everything was fine...I was with you like I am now, but…”

“You’re sure you shouldn’t see a doctor about this?”

I nod, staring at my beautiful sleeping daughter in her crib. “I don’t want to miss her growing up for some silly nightmares.”

“But you wake up almost weekly to one of them.”

“I’m fine dear. I know myself better then anyone, I can handle them. Charlotte needs a farther and if I’m not here for a moment, she’d grow up and be wrong.”

We both remain staring at her for a long while, and I question if I really should go see a doctor, but me being by her side, a good father to her trumps everything. The nightmares only happen at night so I can keep that in check and only Muriel will know.

“I...I need to paint...”

While I was able to get off work earlier today, I’m exhausted. I sent the neighbor girl home for the day and watch Charlotte on her white wooden rocking horse as she begins fussing so I place her on the ground, having found some independence, she now likes walking more them me holder her, so I hold her hand and guide her to my desk. Her laughter infectious as I’m enjoying my time spent with my daughter after the day’s work. Upon my desk, a few of her drawing with the box of crayons we got her for her third birthday.

Crudely drawn people and what I think are all angles holding hand while a different drawing is all in green, what looks like a bull, then the strangest one, the deep violet tree with bright blue leaves. It’s beautiful in it’s own sense.

Taking a seat, I help her onto my desk so she can sit, but she becomes animated, and begins to dance elegantly in her little pink dress as I uses my hand to steady her as she twirls, giggling before falling onto her butt becoming what I would imagine her to be like when she’s grown, a beautiful young lady who loves ballet. She becomes my thoughts as I watch her performance, and she travels closer and closer to the edge, of my desk, I bring my hand behind her, helping her come forward but my hand phases though her.

I hear a thud as my sight suddenly becomes smaller. As if I was a babe myself again. I see the rocking horse sprout wings, like a dragonfly as it flies over to the door leading outside. I stare at the knob and will it to open, it does and the warming air of the fall season enters my study as I giggle like a girl. Waddling out into the backyard and woods as I follow the flying rocking horse, my sight jumps forward to a pond farther back in the woods. As I see the horse leave it’s brackets and start to drink from the waters, its’ wings becoming that of a bird as it folds them against it’s body and stares at me. There are some animals around as I see a deer walk gracefully by, staring at me for a bit, then I feel something course, as a raccoon has come up to me, patting me down and I start to giggle before it starts to pull on my dress.

I hear a screech as I look skyward to a snow white owl who descends and starts flapping her majestic wings before the raccoon, who scurry off and then I go to the snowy owl, hugging it as her beak nuzzles me back and she coos.

Then the light and joy of the world goes dark as a form passes me in tattered rags for clothing as I see in the pool of water a pink form floating, still and motionless… this figure pointing...Death.

Jolted awake by the door slamming close to my study, Standing, I nearly trip over a stack of magazines have slide all over the floor as I take a closer look at my desk and I can see are Charlotte’s feet prints on the wood as I imagine she used them to get down gently rather then fall, at least that’s my hope as I rush out of my chair and to the door. “Charlotte!” I don’t see the rocking horse anymore either.

A round stain glass window rest in the door of a rose, the sun from the day high in the sky filtering in creating a reflection of the rose on the ground, but something blocks the petals, causing it to look wilted as I fear the worst and open the door and stepping onto the grass in my fine socks.

Running into the woods where I recall seeing her in my dream, I don’t know why it felt so real, that she could have really walked all the way out here without my knowing, but I find her, sleeping while the snowy owl stands close by, observing her, keeping her safe as when I appear she flaps her wings and ascends to one of the tree branches, watching me. She screeches at me, and I feel she’s telling me to be more careful as I nod at Sue and pick up my daughter, walking back to our home worried what Muriel will say when I tell her.

Noticing now how close we are to the pond, and the rocking horse laying on it’s side near the waters. I question if what I saw really just happened...did the rocking horse really sprout wings and fly away while I...as my daughter followed it?