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The darkness that shrouded the orphanage was as black as ink, and not one pinprick of light could be seen through the haze. Along each wall there were a row of ten small beds, and lying in them sound asleep were ten little girls, oblivious to the cares of the world around them. Nothing could stir them from their slumber; not one sound could penetrate the barriers which sleep surrounded them with, and this was just another ordinary night in the orphanage, where they would dream of the day that someone would come and adopt them, taking them away from the sad life they knew.
But don't think that their lives were completely sad, or unfulfilled, for this was not true at all. All of the little girls were friends with each other, and played together to their hearts content.
All, that is, except one.
The house mother had called her a problem child, potentially unable to be adopted by anyone, but she didn't care. She lived in a world built completely inside her head, and she never ever wanted to leave it.
At least, not until the funny man in the bow-tie came along. He wasn't exactly the nicest man she knew, but he wasn't the meanest either; not at first, at any rate. Besides, that title went to the mean old man who lived at the end of the street. There was something inherently strange about the man in the bow-tie, and he didn't make her feel very comfortable whenever he appeared in her dreamworld.
Sometimes she wished that he would just go away.
It was one of these nights that she wished he would leave her alone, and she struggled while she slept, fighting to awaken herself before he could let the strange things he kept in her head touch her. In a matter of moments, her eyes shot open, and she gasped a great lungfull of air, and then rolled out of bed, landing with a muffled thump as her bedclothes cushioned her fall. She emerged from the thick blankets, muttering curses that would get her into even deeper trouble than when the house mother discovered that she was out of bed. She scrambled to her feet, and continued to disentangle herself from the bedclothes, then began to remake her bed. She was certain that she wouldn't get any more sleep that night, not when the man in the bow-tie had things that could hurt her the moment she closed her eyes.
She glanced at the window, trying to think about what to do and how she would get out of trouble when the house mother showed up. But that was forgotten just as quickly when she thought she saw something flicker in the corner of her eye. She blinked, then noticed the flicker again, but this time it was much clearer and more opaque than transparent. She stood from the bed, then walked over to the window and pressed her face up against the glass, moving away only to wipe it with her sleeve when her breath fogged it up. She had a full view of the courtyard now, and she could see something appearing on the grounds below. This was the flicker, she realised, as a rectangular structure creaked and groaned into existence. There was nothing remarkable about the structure, although she found the hue of the blue paint pleasing to her young eyes. She smiled.
"He came," she murmured, softly enough that she was the only one to hear it.
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