Chapter I – A Dream Within A Dream
I stand amid the roar
Of a surf-tormented shore,
And I hold with my hand
Grains of the golden sand-
How few! yet how they creep
Through my fingers to the deep,
While I weep - while I weep!
O God! can I not grasp
Them with a tighter clasp?
O God! can I not save
One from the pitiless wave?
Is all that we see or seem
But a dream within a dream?
Edgar Allan Poe – A Dream Within A Dream
She wished to go up.
Oh, nobody could understand how much she wished to go up.
Never before her life had she wanted to see the sunlight this much.
But as she fell, the feeling of utter terror, the want to go up; to at least have some semblance of light ebbed away. The voice screaming with panic was squashed and reduced into a tiny presence sobbing in the corner of her mind. The usual feeling of emptiness and apathy filled her, as she relaxed into the familiar setting of the dream.
She fell through the darkness, and darkness fell into her.
Danny Fenton was a reasonable young man, if not a little bashful. Sure, he was impatient sometimes, but compared to his freshman years, there was considerable improvement. He sometimes bragged about his successes, but this was a thing that every person would do in his shoes. He had a lovely girlfriend who understood him; especially when it came to hunting ghosts, and a best friend, who was the mayor in training; perhaps the smartest person in Amity Park.
Well… Maybe not the smartest person in Amity. That place was reserved to Jazz. She was the smartest one. Smart, but annoying sometimes. Also, why the heck was she constantly meddling in his business, sticking her nose to where it didn't belong anyway? A year ago, she constantly talked about Manson, who Danny had dumped after he realized he had not even liked the girl as a friend, let alone loved her. She was bossy, clingy and jealous. Not to mention she was a… A freak who still had that freakish style, and always talked about death, despair, and all that weird stuff - and he did not even want to think about her ultra-recyclo-vegetarian bullshit.
Not to mention she always prevented Danny from getting what he wanted: popularity and respect. So when he realized he could not get the recognition he deserved from her peers while he was with Manson, he dumped her immediately. He always had a crush on Valerie anyway.
And now, he was loved, respected, and popular as hell. Life was good. And he wanted it to remain that way.
After all, he had saved the world, and he deserved the fame and the life he was currently living, thank you very much.
Sam was falling through the… Now that she thought about it, she had no clue about what she was falling into, or when she would finally meet the ground. I wonder when this fall will end? She asked herself, while trying to calculate how much time had passed since she began to fall.
She was having this dream for months. She was getting used to it; in fact, she was no longer frightened unlike the first few days she had the dream, which she screamed endlessly by the time she woke, throwing her small, skinny body out of the bed while crying hysterically, grabbing for her trusty scissors and digging at her skin to bleed out the terror. The scissors were somehow important to her, but now that she thought about it, she could not remember why. She absently remembered that she would try to get rid of the blood stains so it would be pristine clean, without the coppery smell, but she could not recall why she cared so much.
She let those thoughts slip by her. A peaceful expression filled her face, as she started wondering with a morbid fascination.
Just what kind of sound she would make when she smashed into the ground?
Would she be blown to small little pieces like dropped glass? Perhaps her bones would make a loud creaky cracking noise as they broke.
Would she feel pain as she died? No, no, that was not the right question... The right question was; would she feel more pain in death, than she felt now alive?
In a place where only ghosts dwelt, a broad shouldered figure wearing a violet hooded cloak gazed at endless wall of screens; screens where every universe, every possibility for every single existing being could be seen. His frame was constantly changing its age as he thoughtfully watched as past, present and future unraveled under his gaze. He was worried about the current timeline, however, there was nothing he could do to change it. His superiors had strictly ordered him not to interfere unless absolutely necessary. His eyes wandered to the screen where the skinny, raven haired teenage girl was thrashing in her bed, obviously having another nightmare. He sighed. Samantha had suffered for too long. His gaze shifted to the other screens. Everything was peaceful except her, and he could not get rid of the dread inside of him that increased as he looked at her.
Slowly, her body relaxed, and she was moving no more. But then…Then, she started convulsing violently. The screen flickered for a moment as he stared, and dread turned into fear as he went rigid.
Suddenly, the ghost's red eyes widened with shock, followed with terror of his realization as a pulse of power traveled through the crimson eyed ghost's body. He could only whisper a soft "No" before another wave of power struck him.
He fell, clutching his head with one hand, his blue skin a shade paler, with sweat rolling down his chin. Eyes narrowing in pain, all the Ghost of Time could do was to lift up his head and stare helplessly as screens darkened one by one.
In another part of the Ghost Zone, a dark mysterious figure sighed in glee as it looked at a high, black throne. The silhouette at the throne couldn't be seen, but his eyes glowed dark, his body emitting a malicious power. As the dark robed figure knelt in front of the throne, the silhouette started to laugh with mirth; a cruel voice that echoed within the otherwise empty and silent hall.
He had planned for years, carefully and silently manipulating both the World of the Living and his own kingdom, his faithful servants working with devotion. And now, he was finally getting the fruits of his delicate work. Not even the Lord of Time and his guardians would stop what was now in motion. After all, she was his this time, and she would come and serve him as destined. The Ghost Child had failed; he was not even aware of what he woke. In fact, the dark figure thought, he should remember to thank the Ghost Child before beheading him. After all, the plan would not work without him.
The silhouette grinned. The fate would go on as intended. He was the king, the Death, the Other against Life; and this time, it was his turn to consume.
Sam was still falling, and falling, and falling. The more she fell, the more she felt home. The less she became afraid, the less she felt human.
This is a dream. She forced herself to think. Why should I care if I fall? Why should I feel the need to be afraid because of the fact that I feel completely hollow, despite not feeling any fear? I know for a fact that this is a dream. I'm in Amity Park. I'm inside my bed. Perhaps I'm tangled in my sheets, sweating endlessly, even though I do not feel it now. I do not feel the softness of my pillow. But that is normal. This is a dream. If I am lucid enough to recognize that this is a dream, then this is certainly not real. This is just my subconscious, playing games with me.
She was very sure of herself. She knew, for a fact that the memory of going to bed may not be true, since she was aware that human perception was bound to make mistakes. But the air, and the fall, however endless it was… It felt so strange. Air was licking her skin, it was going through her black strands of hair; it was as if darkness of the hole was caressing her body with… Love? Care?
Sam laughed at the thought, and at the emotions accompanying it. She was filled with despair, and she felt more human now. She snorted with disgust.
It was despicable. Utterly annoying. She had to stop feeling such emotions to block out the pain. And to block up the pain, she had to make herself empty again.
So she focused on the air; and the silence around her as she fell.
Perhaps she was sleepwalking through her balcony right now, she thought absentmindedly. She had somehow got up from bed, opened the balcony door that was thoroughly sealed. And she had climbed up the bars and now she was getting closer to the ground, closer, closer, and she would never knew until she woke and opened her eyes and saw the ground and BAM, she was dying, everywhere was blood and pain, she could see her bone as it peeked its curious white head from her arm, eager to meet the world as she screamed like an animal-
She blinked. And woke to the darkness she was falling into. Had she just saw a dream within a dream?
Then another thought. Air has to make sound as I fall. It shouldn't be soft like this. I would know. Red cruel eyes flashed in her mind as she shuddered, remembering the cold voice "How should I scare you?" She immediately banished the memory of Fenton. Happy memories hurt enough, but that kind of thing only made the gap inside her bigger. If she started remembering bad things, if the thoughts such as, Did those moments represented what he actually felt of me; was that hatred of me already there; and it only manifested briefly before he suppressed it? invaded her mind, she would break; so she would just close those thoughts into a secure little box, thus ridding her mind of Fenton, Foley, Valerie and many others who hated her.
Then she suddenly smiled a victorious, but otherwise empty smirk. I KNEW it! It IS a dream! As she now knew it was a dream for certain, Sam Manson relaxed, and let the darkness take her.
In the real world, her eyes opened wide, devoid of emotion. Then, an oily blackness, starting from her pupils, began to spread through the irises of her eyes, eating the violet, only to leave a glowing ethereal purple, and then it swallowed the whites of her eyes.
Her figure convulsed violently for a second. Veins popped out of her forehead and neck as her body stretched painfully.
A cut on her wrist, made by one of her small silver scissors in the manicure kit her mother bought at her 14th birthday, started to bleed. The bleeding arm slowly rose at its own accord, with its open palm turned to the ceiling of the bedroom. A single drop of blood rose from the cut, into the open palm of her hand. It hanged in the air for one second, then; it became as black as polished obsidian, emitting a soft, violet glow; illuminating the room, and the pale face of the teenager. The black blood formed an unknown symbol, from a tongue long forgotten, and the symbol shone a blinding light before vanishing into air. The arm dropped as if its string was cut.
Two glowing purple spots blindly gazed at the ceiling for a single heartbeat, then the blackness began to recede back into her pupils; the haunting light of her irises following the darkness that had consumed her eyes just a moment ago. The cut on her wrist healed, leaving a patch of scab on her scar filled skin. Her eyes closed slowly.
Seemingly, not a single clue of what happened remained in the dark bedroom. However, a laugh echoed throughout Ghost Zone, chilling even the ghosts of cold and snow.
Clockwork dropped his head in his hands in desperation and wept.
Disclaimer: I own neither Danny Phantom, nor its characters. I also do not own the poems, lyrics, or any other copyrighted thing I may use. The only thing that I own in this page is my story. Nothing else.
Yes. This is the first chapter of new and improved, The Endless Destruction. Some aspects of the story are changed. There is no Phoenix… and neither the things I planned for the original story remain. Also, you may have noticed the description and name of the story has changed too. As you may guess, the story begins after the end of the series. Little (or big, depending on your opinion) details of the series will be changed, but I will reveal nothing for now, for I don't wish to give the plot away. I am actually very pleased with how it turned out. I hope you feel the same. I will hopefully post the next chapter in a week. Until then, feel free to review.