CHAPTER TWO: Maggie's Nightmare
Maggie tossed and turned. Inside her head, green flames licked the lining of her skull. The green fog spread, thick in each breathe.
The air was stifling. She was by the shore of a river. The black, viscous waters separated the two shores.
"Child…the pain you bear…the pain that your mind can not conceive…."
She heard a voice, sweet, and aged, like old rubber bands being gingerly plucked.
"What pain have you known…that your mind has hidden…that your heart could not contain…poor child! You mind can not remember, yet the heart can not forget! Come, little one! Come, Margaret, take my hand, and I shall take you across. You shall forget all of the world of heat and bright, piercing light! In eternal twilight, you soul may at last find succour, and your soul shall fly, free of the surly bonds of reason and doubt!"
"You shall dance in the dusky gardens, and chase the owl and the moth through fields and ravines that call to you, call you to stay, stay. Linger and hide, forever!"
She looked away, her head swirling.
"Cast it aside, and I shall take you across!"
Her mind was sinking, sinking into the miring smoke.
"Cast it aside!"
She felt a thin, cool chain around her neck. It was the only tangible substance. She seized it, and felt it bite into her dull flesh as she pulled it taught. The brittle chain snapped. She felt cold, burning hands snatch her up. They sunk into her like steel pinchers, twisting her and breaking her in their cruel grip. Her stomach was sour, her mouth tasted of spoilt milk. She ran to the bathroom. She flicked on
She awoke, and, following standard procedure, sat straight up and screamed. The light, bright, dizzying, chased away the shadow. She swooned and fell at the toilet. Her gut lurched, and she vomited. She heaved, her body struggling to cast out the poisonous touch, the maddening, moonlit eyes.
She gasped for air, the acrid taste swirling in her mouth, her throat tender and raw. Gentle footsteps thudded behind her. She looked over her shoulder, and saw her young brother Eric looking at her with sad, sleepy eyes.
"Are you sick Lisa?" he asked in his quiet, raspy voice.
"Naw. Jus'…a bad dream, tha's all," she said, her throat still struggling with the surges of vomit.
"Another nightmare?" he asked.
"No. BLAAH! Same one."
"I've been having nightmares too!"
"Well it's little wonder with you," she said, flushing the toilet, "Watching all those movies."
"They don't scare me!"
"Whatever," she said, pouring herself some mouthwash.
"Will you tell me what it was about?"
She spat in the sink.
"No."
"Why not?"
She turned to faucet, and rinsed her mouth.
"Because, I don't want to give it to you."
"Dreams aren't contagious, Maggie."
"Well, you wouldn't understand it anyway. G'night," she said, walking past him.
"'Night," he said, watching her walk off to bed.
He extinguished the light.