INT. MAL’S ROOM - AFTERNOON

ACT II

Bright sunlight peeks through the gap in the thick curtains where only dust sways. The slim beam of light pierces the darkness like a sword, creeping upwards until it reaches a shade’s face. Her slumbering expression contorts in discomfort and she rearranges her small body in the pile of other sleeping shades on the bed. Similar piles of tangled bodies are spread throughout the bedroom on the floor, squeezed on an armchair, or bundled on a rug. A shade slumbers in a pot hanging from the ceiling and another is draped over a bookcase. The bed itself is a jumble of shades, blankets, and Mal beneath it all with only a hand sticking out. All that echoes is the symphony of light snores and the occasional shifting bodies.

A loud knock interrupts the silence. Seventh’s voice calls out from the other side of the door as impatient as her knocking. “I know you’re in there!”

Mal grumbles and buries himself deeper, his hand devoured into the void.

Another voice calls out to him, a gentler one. “Sweetie, I think you’ve been sleeping long enough. How about spending some time with us today?”

“Don't be so easy on him,” Seventh hisses at Third. “This is the fourth time this week!”

“But what if he’s having a nice dream?”

“That is exactly the point!” Again, Seventh raises her voice. “Mal, we’re coming in!”

Seventh bursts in with her peeved eyes scanning the state of the room. Her frown grows deeper with every new detail she picks out. Trash and dishes are strewn about, and dirty clothing drapes over the spinning wheel. And the smell, Seventh stomps through to the window but seeing the withering flower on the sill is the last straw and she storms straight to the bed instead. Third watches meekly at the door swaying from foot to foot, unable to decide if it would be rude to enter without being invited in first. At the bed Seventh immediately starts digging through the shades.

“It is morning—No, past morning, and you need to get some sunlight.”

Once she finds Mal’s arm she grasps it and tugs with all her strength. “Right,” she huffs and pulls. “Now.”

Mal falls in a heap on the floor, half asleep and grumpy though he does not attempt to fight back. “Good morning…” he mumbles.

“The morning has passed.”

Her stern words don’t phase Mal who sits up and lays his head on the low bed, eyes closed. “Then might as well get ready for bed tonight.”

Finally making her decision, Third maneuvers through the room with light movements, lifting her skirt as she steps over the sleeping shades on tiptoes. “Sweetie, I didn’t give you Sweet Dreams so you can ignore your real life.”

At her voice, Mal perks up. He didn’t realize Third accompanied Seventh and his body tenses. He’d have shoved the mess into a closet, pretending that he is more put together. Shame colors his cheeks and he looks aside. “I’m not.”

“And your children!” Seventh exclaims.

They all look around them at the lethargic shades who slumber on undisturbed. Seventh plucks one off the bed and holds her up, the shade’s head lolling from side to side in her half-sleep. “Look at her! She’s always been so full of energy.” A sniff and Seventh keeps the shade at arm’s length. “When’s the last time she’s bathed?”

Third covers her nose with the back of her hand in an attempt to remain polite. She sits on her knees and rubs Mal’s shoulder with her other hand. “Are the dreams really helping?”

Dismissing the question would be easy. Mal can lie and say the dreams helped, that he had it under control. Because only in his dreams, where he returned to his life in the tower, did he feel anything. Happiness, excitement, satisfaction, even anxiety as someone tried on the clothes he created, or disappointment when a midnight meeting fell through, Mal prefers that to numbness.

He takes back the shade from Seventh and rocks her against his chest. Seventh is right. All of his children were energetic, and the house was always filled with pittering footsteps. But now…Mal looked around the room, his children listless and groggy, and something inside him droops. He has no heart that tightens, no lungs that compact, but he feels the pain of shame and regret all the same. “I…don’t know,” he says with his eyes on the floor. “But in my dreams, I’m not…like this. I’m back in my life before the cave…”

Seventh and Third soften at his broken voice and kneel at his sides. Third brushes Mal’s thorns aside and lifts his head up to meet her eyes. “Sweetie, Sweet Dreams are a respite, a brief rest to give you the strength to go on another day. But they’re fueling your regrets rather than your ambitions; they’re draining you.”

Panic seizes Mal. He clutches the pretty stone hanging from his neck at the thought of an endless numbness. “Will you take it away?” he whispers.

Third sighs and glances at Seventh who nods with fervor. Turning back to Mal, Third holds out her hand. Mal’s eyes glisten with tears but with a trembling hand, he removes the stone and returns it. Third then rolls it between her fingers before pinching at the middle, thinning the stone like clay until it splits into two. “I’ll give you back half,” she says.

Seventh gapes at her decision, yelling out her disapproval. “But—

“And the other half,” Third continues with a mischievous smile at Seventh, “I want you to give it to the princess.”

“The princess?” Mal asks.

“Yes. I want you to check up on her, and make sure she is having nice dreams. Simply lay this stone on her chest, tap yours to hers, and take a little nap.”

Mal stares down blankly at the stone half the size it once was. Although he repeats Third’s instructions over and over in his mind he still can’t comprehend them. “You want me to visit her dreams?”

“You still have the connected doorway, do you not? Visit her dreams to confirm they are not all nightmares. As a Fairy, you have to be responsible for what you put out in the world, especially if it is a curse. Or you’ll end up like the one who created the shades.” She then takes the shade off of Mal’s hands. “The two of us will tidy up and bathe your sweet children.”

Seventh is quick to jump on and waves Mal off. “Yes yes, check on her.” At Mal’s suspicious silence, she narrows her eyes at him. “Don’t tell me you’ve left her on the floor these seventeen years.”

Mal looks away. “Of course not…”

Third and Seventh usher Mal towards the back of the room where a shallow alcove is curtained off. Seventh draws it back to reveal a door on the wall. Mal’s hand grips the knob but doesn’t turn it. He saw no reason to visit the very person he cursed. But if there is a chance Third allows him to keep Sweet Dreams, and Mal swears to himself that he’ll be more careful with it, then he has to take it.

Mal pushes the door open and steps into the tower of the princess’ castle. Once he shuts the door behind him he finds himself engulfed by silence. “Why me?” he laments as he moves forward in a room equally as abandoned as he was. His feet take him to the spinning wheel and he spins it. Spiderweb snaps off and flutters in the air like loose threads. The sound unravels memories and snippets of recent dreams and, overwhelmed, his hand shoots out to bring the wheel to a sudden stop. His tense shoulders tremble but before he can make his cowardly escape his eyes fall over the sleeping princess by the spinning wheel. She’s sprawled out, drool slipping down the side of her mouth. Daisy sleeps by her head, her wings outstretched.

That’s right. Mal is here to check on her. If he gives up now and Seventh sees her on the floor he’ll hear about it for years. So he grits his teeth and picks up the princess off the floor. He struggles to carry her up the steps to the loft. “Why…are you…so heavy?” he complains in between breaths. When he reaches the top he drops her on the sheets, releasing a cloud of dust around them. After mulling over the thought he goes back for Daisy and plops her on the bed too. “There,” he says, wiping his hands of the whole ordeal.

Next, Mal places one of the stones on her chest and taps his against it. A hollowed, echoing ring resonates around them. Then he grabs a chair and settles in, grumbling to himself all the while. “Just a quick peek and I can go back to my own dreams.”

At this point he’s mastered the art of falling asleep. All he has to do is lean his head back and close his eyes. He concentrates on his breath, each one deeper and heavier than the last. And then he is gone from the wakened world and enters the world of dreams.