Sorry that I took so long to update this. I am a horrible procrastinator. This was actually the first one that I dreamt. After I dreamt all of them, I pieced them together.
Chapter 3 The River
A dense fog shrouds the stars as the song of a rushing river fills the air. A figure emerges from mist, her feet squishing in the damp grass. Her sapphire eyes search for the hidden stars above while her left hand clutches a red rose to her chest. The black ribbon adorning it sways back and forth in time with her step. Unnoticed by the couples scattered throughout the distant park, Christine walks along as if in a dream, her eyes unblinking and seeing nothing around her. The black silky scarf covering her head rubs under her chin as her breath escapes in vaporous clouds. Suddenly, Christine blinks and her step falters for a moment as she looks at her surroundings as if seeing them for the first time. Crimson skirts bearing vines of black lace swish as she quickens her pace and speeds along the river bank.
Hanging back about ten yards, a dark figure moves silently through the gloom. Feet making not a sound in the soft ground, the figure melted in and out of the fog at will. One would feel the smallest hint of a breeze as the being passed them, and they would peer into the mist, startled at the prospect of anyone interupting them. Seeing and hearing nothing but their companion's anxious exhalations and the distant river, they would turn back to their lover and the miniscule disturbance would flee their mind in an instant. The figure paid no mind to them. Only one thing occupied his mind currently: Christine. His sharp yellow eyes follow Christine as he keeps a cautious distance behind her, not wanting her to detect him.
His glowing eyes betray a sliver of surprise as he sees Christine break her steady pace and dissappear into the fog. Uttering a slight curse under his breath, white flashes out of the mist as he hastens after her. Gaining ground, he discovers that she is nowhere in sight. She is gone. Fear beginning to tickle the back of his mind, he commences searching the banks for her.
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Wading through the wide black waters of the river, Erik pierces the darkness with eyes gleaming in panic. He frantically searches the water as a desperate voice in his head repeats urgently, 'Christine...Christine...Christine..CHRISTINE.' Harsh breathing rattles through his teeth as he splashes loudly through the biting water, past being concerned for something as trivial as keeping a low profile. He was possessed by the fierce demon of his need to find Christine. Erik swung his head wildly about, his eyes darting about him. His arms were windmills, cutting the water like air, propelling him forward against the swift current. Then, the realization hits him. He sheds the panic like a forgotten cloak, but a shred of it remained, wisping through his body. His mind emptied, and he was a dark statue lost in the fog, forgotten by all. A voice whispered fleetingly throughout the grey recesses of his mind: "Christine." Upon hearing it, Erik turned his back to the current. Releasing his breath that he did not register as being held, he lifted his feet and let the river sweep him down its length. He did not fight. He merely kept afloat, taking comfort in the knowledge that the faithful river would take him to Christine.