Lamented Demise
This title is excessively random. It's my screenname on Livejournal and I couldn't think of anything better, so until I get some ideas (or some feedback in the form of suggestions) It's going to remain titled as such. I'm more prone to naming things after they're written anyway...
Sleep; A Waste of Time?
The screams echoed through the night, but for once they did not belong to those beneath the heaven house. No, on this night it was the owner. His darkened face with its deep circles beneath his eyes. (Which honestly made him seem rather raccoon-like.) Those wide, dark eyes that could shine brightly while their owner was excited. Why had the thin male screamed? Why had he allowed such a tortured exclamation to be released from him? Nightmares. He was plagued by them. Dearest Johnny C. claimed that sleep was a waste of time (which it was, and still is if we are utterly honest with ourselves), but the true reason why he never slept was because he was afraid. Eventually his body and mind would begin to wear down, he could truly only go for two days without -any-sleep. If he got an hour or so he could go for about a week without so much as a cat nap. It was truly amazing how the body could learn to adapt. This night, which was nearly over, Johnny had managed to get three hours of sleep. That was why he awoke in such a state. His dreams were disturbing, even more so after a dream interpreter (who did not linger long on this world after his introduction to Nny) informed him in passing that one could not die in one's dreams, just as one could not be injured. How was this a disturbing factor? Certainly it was disturbing, especially so if one knew the nature of his dreams. It was the dream of being chased with a more frightening, twisted twist. All the people he had ever harmed liked to resurface in his dreams. If other people tormented him in life, it was nothing compared to the way they treated him in death. They taunted, teased, their mutilated forms screaming, following him wherever he went. In Johnny's dreams they killed him, over and over. Perhaps that was what had spawned his theory that he was invincible. In one dream, one in particular that stood out, a man who had apologized, conversed with Johnny, a man who had been civil. (So civil that Johnny had gone to so much effort as to make the man a sandwich to serve as a last meal in a way...) The man had cornered Johnny, his eyes wide and bloodshot. "You can't die NNY, and neither can we. Not again. You've killed us all and the rest hold it against you..." He had uttered those words, and then his head somehow managed to fall off. NNY had been a bit wary of people for a few days after, and he could not help but wonder if that man had been right. He had certainly seemed to die...
This night particularly was different than all those before. The man that had spoken to him was there again, but he was inside out. His head was mounted upon a pole. A large sign was posted beneath him reading 'Traitor'. Johnny had always started his dreams in Squee's house. His former 'friend' had been mounted in Squee's yard. They had meant for him to see it. They had meant for him to see the man dead, as he said that he couldn't be. Another thing, this perhaps being what had happened to cause him to scream so much more than usual. Tonight, Squee had been tied beneath the body, he was crying and struggling to reach Shmee who lay upon the grass before him, just out of reach. Why was this disturbing? Why did this bother him any more than any other dreams?
Simply because, Johnny never dreamed of the living.
Yay for the conclusion of chapter 1. I really need to get a life. I seriously doubt that I'm going to get any Reviews for this or Wonderland : My Anti-Drug, but it's worth a shot. Besides, it's something to distract me from necessary things... Like actual work...XP Oh, and this is short. Just in case you couldn't figure that out for yourself... Heh
