Dreams

I always loved movies.
I think that stemmed from this little routine my mom and I had on weekends. Every Friday, when she came home from work, she would put on a movie. Part of me thinks she did it cause she was tired.
Nonetheless, this little habit of ours ended up making movies my favorite thing in the world, even though she was probably bored half to death by some of my childish choices. Out of all types of movies, I think horror and action movies are my favorites.
However, in those movies, there was always something I couldn’t wrap my mind around.

The slow-motion shot.

Although I guess, depending on the genre of the slow-motion shot differs greatly, right? In a horror movie, it is accompanied by a thundering heartbeat, heavy breathing, and the monster being an inch away from finding the person hiding. Or, if we're talking about the early 2000s, a cheap CGI death. On the other hand, in action movies, the slow-motion shot is often there to show coolness, obviously. I mean, what's cooler than walking away from an explosion?

I always thought they were stylistic.
I mean, there is no way a person’s heart could beat that hard.
I don’t think I ever understood the sheer fear that a person could feel in such a situation.

At least not until now.
Now that this unknown man starts walking towards me with a devilish smirk and thundering footsteps, that reverb in my ears like war drums.
It's like the entire world stopped, and the room itself froze in on itself. I would think it actually had frozen over completely if it weren’t for the smell of cinched wood from under the man’s leather boots, and my shaking hands.

move...

He walks slowly.
As if the earth itself moves only as he does.
Long, claw-like nails brush against boxes, leaving red cuts in their wake.

Move...

Smoke trails upward from the man's dark leather coat like a candle staining the ceiling, and just below the hood...
I can catch a glimpse of something shining and curved and oh, so golden.

Move...

“Who would have thought that a little witch would have unsealed me?”
The voice rings so clearly in my mind despite the clear distortion that buzzes. He strides closer with his thundering footsteps growing louder with each movement.

Yes, for the first time in my life, I relate to characters in horror movies.
For the first time in my life. Blood rushes to my ears, and I can hear my heartbeat in my chest, trembling like a caged animal.

I remember hearing somewhere that rabbits die if their heart rate becomes too rapid.
It just dies on the spot.
For a second, for a mere second, I hoped that would happen to me, when he stopped right in front of me.

“Hmm, well, I should probably thank you, shouldn't I?”

He taps his long nails against my forehead.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.

“A quick death should suffice, right?”

Move.

Slowly, he raises both hands, bringing them together, crossing his thumbs before stretching them towards me, inch by inch.

Move!

My legs buckle under me like folding chairs, collapsing backward when my body finally obeys me.
Like whatever spell holding me up, holding me captive, just had its strings cut.

“Uncle!”
The scream rips through my throat as I scramble backward, pulling boxes between us to block the path like a makeshift barricade.

"Ha, does the little witch need help?” He smirks, stepping on the discarded boxes like insignificant bugs.

From the door, the sharp sound of something shattering, and footsteps rushing up those creaking stairs.
Finally, when my back hits the wall, I see him, Kenji, catching his breath at the door. His eyes immediately lock onto the unknown man.“

"What do we have here?”  The man taunts, stepping closer.

Kenji reaches behind him to get what I assumed would be a bat or a weapon, but instead finds a pretty delicate brush.

“You have to be joking." 
Seriously?

He holds the brush towards the man, and almost as if taking the invitation, the unknown man rushes in, claws ready to strike, a burst of wind chasing after him.

I try to yell.
I try to scream.
I try to tell Kenji to move, to dodge, to do anything...
But the words die in my throat as Kenji's brush slices through the air like scissors on paper. It swoops downward and then arcs, leaving a trail of shimmering golden ink floating, pulsing.
He does it so quickly that in the blink of a second, the shimmering ink spirals into one point and shoots towards the man, slamming him against the wall before he even has time to react.

I don't stop to stare.
Instead, I crawl over boxes as fast as I can to get behind Kenji.

“Ah, you witches and your cheap tricks,” the man mumbles, half-winded as Kenji steps between us.

He raises his brush once again like a weapon, which, after what I just saw, might be the best way to describe the dainty thing.
“Who are you?” he asks, with the calmness of a man who definitely did not experience almost getting choked.

“Well, who would have thought? It seems witches have lost all decorum,” the man smirks, before rushing in yet again for a hit.

Kenji slices the air, forming a shimmering square that clangs against the man's claws.
The blow hits hard enough to shove Kenji back a few steps, the shield shattering like confetti. But Kenji doesn't falter. He doesn't even take a second to acknowledge its shattering.
Instead, he slices the air again, this time reforming the shimmering ink into threads that wrap around the man's arm and yank him backwards with a loud thud.

“What did you do?” Kenji looks at me from the corner of his eye, “What did you touch?”

“I–” I barely process the question, because frankly, I have no idea what's going on, before the threads holding the man back tear.
And before I know it, Kenji pushes me back behind him as the man throws one of my boxes at him. It hits him square in the chest as I land hard on the edge of a box. Kenji’s brush sweeps once again, forming a web of gold that tries to hold the thrashing man against the wall like a captive animal.
The sharp wince is enough to snap me out of my trance, and I come to an epiphany. The only thing I touched was...
“The doll.”
That adorably hideous thing that my eyes immediately lock onto.

Kenji’s eyes widen; his gaze follows mine in growing horror. “Damn it,” he mumbles under his breath while the unknown man claws through the webs like some feral thing.

“Hmm, tricky, tricky. Little witch, aren't you?” The man muses, venom dripping down every word.

“Yes, well, I don't take kindly to people hurting my niece”, Kenji responds, inching closer to the desk while the now-freed man picks off shimmering threads.

“How territorial–” The man's mocking gets cut short as Kenji lunges for the doll, yanking the sticker along with it. He doesn't stop moving, both objects leaving his hands just as quickly as he flings them towards the man. His brush swoops through the air around the doll, and just as quickly, chains burst from it, pulling the shocked man in. His body lights up, becoming a shiny thing that struggles against the chains before swirling into a single point, which gets dragged and swallowed by the doll.

It's a mesmerizing yet macabre thing that I can't help but watch.

I only get interrupted by two hands that gently shake my shoulders.
“Clementine, Clementine, are you okay? Are you okay?” I glance at the body that connects to the arms and see my uncle with a panicked look on his face. And although I only just met him an hour ago, I am truly relieved that he was here. It takes me a while to focus my eyes on him, though.

The only thing that escapes my throat is a small, undignified noise, ”Euh”, because what else can I say? What else can anyone say when your whole world has been turned around? When you almost got choked!? When you find out that something so weird as... well, whatever the hell I just experienced, exists. Any other attempt to respond... dies as the doll begins jerking like the thing inside tries to force itself out.

I blink, and he's there again, standing, claws at the ready, like the last few seconds never happened.

Kenji wastes no time; he slices the air, chaining the man up before yanking him back to the doll. Kenji opens his mouth to say something before the man somehow escapes yet again.

So Kenji repeats himself.
And again.
And again.
By the fifth time this happens, all decorum gets thrown out, and he falls to his knees like a rag doll. He slaps one hand over his mouth, using his other to reach... or more like block, Kenji.

“Hold on, hold on, wait!” For a second, I genuinely pity this man, because he looks like he had the worst day of his life.
Kenji's the one who ends up breaking the silence. “Are you okay?”

The man shakes his head with such quick certainty that he wretches and tries to curl in on himself. In the stillness, I can finally get a good view of him.
He's remarkably pretty, for a man who tried to kill me, with long cascading black hair and red eyes that seem watery. Two curved horns with golden ridges peek from under his coat's hood. His pale skin seems sickly, although I guess that, based on his demeanor, he's trying not to throw up.

I would be very thankful if he didn't throw up in this room.

Kenji and I exchange glances, because what else can you do in such a situation?
“What's going on?” I ask, voice breaking at my failure to calm my nerves.

“I would also like to know,” Kenji smiles, “but I think things went great, amazing, wonderful even, he says, as if repeating the words in three different ways would somehow make the situation seem any better.
Instead, it's still awkward, weird, and stupidly confusing.
There. Four.
“So who are you anyway?” he asks the miserable man in a tone too polite for two people who were fighting not ten minutes ago.

“And why should I tell you––” The man pauses, as if willing his dizziness away, “You anything?”

“Because it will make things easier for you. And it's not as if I don't know what you are already, demon,” Kenji answers, “although, depending on your rank... it could be more challenging to seal you back up—”

“Hold on, Demon?” I asked, finally getting up from the floor and ducking behind Kenji as if he were some sort of shield. Well, based on everything, he is the closest thing to that.

“It seems your mother really didn't tell you much, did she?” I'm not sure what he means, but for some reason, there's an odd sadness behind his eyes.
One that I can't quite put my finger on.

“No, she never told me anything about... this,” I motion to him, his brush, and the man, who still looks miserable.“

Yes, well, I guess she had her reasons, then,” he muses, gently lifting his brush, making lazy circles that somehow form a book midair. It would be surprising if it wasn't the smallest act of impossibility that I had witnessed today. He opens it. Flipping through pages so casually, I doubt he is registering the text. “She always liked things going her way, that sister of mine.”

“Yeah, that was Mom.” She always had this delightful stubbornness. It was one of the things that made her endearing to people. I look over Kenji’s shoulder, ignoring the gagging from the other side of the room, to see what on earth the little book says. It's a small thing, the size of his hand, with a black cover and golden edges. But what's interesting is the pages, each filled with small diagrams, drawings, and scribbles of barely legible text. How on earth he is reading it is beyond me. “I... I don't mean to be nosy, but I would really like to know.”

He pauses his page turning, to glance up at me. “I'm not sure how much I can tell you.”

“Um, you can tell me just about anything. I'm a great listener, and I love learning.” I say, fully knowing I’m lying if my grades have anything to say. Especially learning about the apparent demon who tried to kill me.

“It's not that simple, Clementine.” No, nothing really is.
“Ah, here it is!” Kenji exclaims, pointing at the book. “This should—”

It's an odd feeling.
One of the air rushing towards you, movement hardly registering. But I do register it. The movement of the miserable man's claws, slashing towards Kenji. Kenji pushing back, unbalanced, to dodge the sudden lunge. claws slicing, missing him by an inch. But that's all he really needs.

Because just like that, Kenji's glasses are gone.
Just like that, the book slips from his hand.
And just like that, Kenji regains his footing. Slicing the air with his brush in panicked, chaotic lines. Leaving trails of gold, spreading like watercolor to form a shield. It doesn't last long, the man's claws cleaving through it in one slice. Kenji tries to use the brush again, only for the man to grab his arm. His claws dig into the flesh before he knees him in the gut, the impact causing Kenji's brush to slip from his grip before the miserable-looking man throws him to the side.
His steps wobble as he gets closer to a slumped Kenji, like a drunkard after a few beers. “How dare you? How dare a pathetic witch try to seal me?” the man growls. Kenji slowly uses the walls to get up. “You'll pay for your insolence!”

I freeze like the coward I am before some sudden hint of adrenaline makes my arm grab the nearest thing. A broken photo frame that I throw with all my might at the man.
It does absolutely nothing.
Apart from making him turn to me in annoyance. He scoffs, taking a few steps towards me before he—

“LEVITATION!” The boxes in the room rise as Kenji lifts his hand like a conductor. Before throwing his arm like a pitcher. They fling themselves at the man, who staggers back from the attack. They pin him down, pushing him against the wall.

“You filthy witch,” he growls, brute-forcing himself through the hoard of boxes. Claws rip a few, sending their contents clattering, before he swings one back at Kenji. It hits his arm. The man uses the moment to charge in.

“Levitation!” Kenji commands, sending a few more boxes flying at the man. They do nothing since the man dodges with little effort.
His charge is over by the time Kenji is ready with his next attack.
The word's never leaving his throat, because that's where the man grabs him. He pushes him upward with one hand, dangling him in the air like a puppet. Kenji lifts his trembling arms up, striking the man over and over, a horrendous croaking coming from his throat. I run over to them, grabbing fistfuls of the man's coat and yanking backward with all my strength in any attempt to make him let go, but it does nothing. He stands there, with a devilish smirk, holding Kenji up like a statue, claiming victory.

And I can do nothing.
Nothing at all.
I need something.
Anything.
And in my panic, my eyes land on it. The pretty, illegible book, page still open to Kenji's epiphany. I run to it, stepping over crunching glass and memory-filled boxes. I grab the dainty thing, and before I know it, unknown words leave my mouth. As soon as the last syllable leaves my lips, a fountain of gold floods out of the pages. It wraps around my neck before quickly slinking its way to the man's.
He barely turns around before I feel it.

The searing pain wraps around my neck. Choking, burning the life out of me like alcohol poured on a fresh wound. It's so excruciating that my knees nearly buckle, but I grip my teeth and try to ignore the feeling of my crushing throat. Instead, I try to focus on the man. His face morphing into anger, finally acknowledging me as some kind of threat, before he throws Kenji to the side like a ragdoll. He charges at me like a raging bull.

I close my eyes, bracing for the hit.
A hit that never comes, because when I do open my eyes, there's his fist, inches away from my face, but never connecting.
“What?” He sneers, going in for another strike that doesn't land.
He tries clawing.
Punching.
Kicking, but nothing works.
Like an invisible force protects me against him. One that I'm so grateful for, because I would definitely be dead without it.
“What is this?!” He screams, pushing his hand against the invisible thing. A cough distracts me from the harmless attack, and I finally notice Kenji looking worse for wear.

“So you are one... I'm so glad.” I barely register his words before dizziness overtakes me.

“Is this your doing?” the man asks, venom-dripping from every syllable.

“Trust me, if I had known, I would never let it happen this way,” Kenji mutters in a tone too close to pity. For whom? Who knows? But the man starts walking, all too calmly, towards him, only stopping to loom over him. The searing pain in my neck dissipates slightly, but the dizziness persists, clinging to every inch of my mind.

It's a horrible feeling, one that only lasts a few seconds before the ground rushes up to me, before the last words escape my mouth, “don't hurt him,” before the whole world goes dark.