In minutes, Vincent was riding away from the farmhouse and was alone in the snowy hills. He could feel his heart pounding as he thought about what he was about to do. He was about to go to a mythical castle and help to slay a mighty beast.

"It sounds like a dream come true, Louis," he told the horse. "It sounds like a myth or a fantastic tale. I feel like Hercules on one of his many tasks or Theseus facing the Minotaur! But it won't be just me, I will be part of an army of village men. I'm a hero assisting the greater hero, or a pawn assisting a mighty queen." He shook his head at the thought. "No, that's not right," he said. "Maybe more like one of the men who held Moses' arms in the Book of Exodus? You know, Louis? When the sun stood still? It will be like that."

With a pleased smile that he had found the right metaphor, Vincent looked around to get his bearings. He could see dark shapes all around his vision. Branches from unseen trees hit his side and made the lantern rattle. His smile faded, and he pulled Louis' reins.

As the horse stopped, Vincent held on and gripped Louis hard to avoid falling off. He reached for his lantern, lit it, and held it in front of him. The lantern's glow cast faint light over the forest and Vincent could now make out a collection of hoof prints in the snow in front of him.

He slid off his horse, grabbed the reins, and started following the prints. He tilted the lantern towards the ground and trudged as fast as he could.

"Come on Louis," he said to the horse, "The other men have left without us." Vincent could only walk so fast, and soon he had to stop and try to catch his breath. He glanced around, but all he could see was trees in every direction. Then there was a SNAP and a rustling sound filled his ears. Leaves crunched off to his left and the snapping and rustling seemed to get closer every second. "Could it be…?" Vincent didn't want to think of the possibly of wolves, but every breath he took, the more his feeling of being in danger grew. Then his worst nightmare: a howl shattered the air. Another SNAP was heard, this time much closer.

At that 'snap' Vincent jumped and gripped the horse's reins tighter. His weariness was fading and his new fear started to energize him. His stomach was light and, realizing how he could now be a target, he made an effort to stop panting.

Unseen bushes rustled again. Vincent's courage was gone. He ran. Or rather, he tried to run: Louis the horse refused to move and only responded by whinnying in terror. Vincent's fear was becoming unbearable. He knew he had to think rationally, that's what his mama would tell him to do, but his thoughts were clouded and every idea ended with him being eaten. He knew he couldn't drag a horse that weighed more than he did, but his mama would not be happy if he left Louis to be ripped apart by wolves.

Vincent made his decision. He snatched his supplies off the horse and then gave him a good slap. He waited for Louis to thunder away and then Vincent started running after him. He ran as hard as he could and could think of nothing but running for a long time. Eventually he burned off his adrenaline and he could no longer see Louis in front of him.

As Vincent held his side and panted heavily, he regretted choosing to run in the heat of the moment instead of mounting Louis. "If wolves had been after me, I would have been dead by now," Vincent said aloud. He groaned and moved off the path to sit on a snowy rock. As he sat down, another thought hit him and he groaned again. "I must have invented the wolves myself," he said aloud. "It was all in my head!" More thoughts continued to bombard his mind as he sat there panting. His eyes became heavier and heavier, and he started to yawn. "Oh, I could have been home in bed and asleep by now," he thought. "Why did I think I could be a hero?" His previous thoughts of glory and mythical adventures seemed to mock him as he sat on cold rock and stared out into the snowy forest.

If Vincent had been younger he would have cried, but that was one thing that he refused to do. I'm still alive, he thought wearily. That must count for something. He paused and started to close his eyes.

Immediately a crash broke through the silence. Then lights appeared up ahead. They were close, maybe right around the next bend. Vincent immediately thought of lanterns. Had they seen Louis? Had the village men stopped for him?

It was enough to give Vincent some hope. He got up off the rock and started walking towards the lights. As he walked closer, Vincent could see that the lights were moving away from him and towards a deeper part of the forest. Little by little, Vincent seemed to catch up with the lights. Suddenly the trees faded away, and all he saw were dark shadows against a large light.

After the trees were completely gone, he found himself at the entrance of a large stone bridge. Vincent shone his lantern towards the end of the bridge and saw that it stretched on into the distance, but the lack of light made it impossible to see where it stopped. He quickened his pace, determined to reach the end of the bridge.

As he walked closer to the end of the bridge, the light grew brighter and more shadows formed. Just as he was starting to make out a stone fortress up ahead, he felt himself being pushed hard.

When Vincent regained his senses, he found his back pushed hard against the stone of the bridge and the dull pain made his back tingle. He pushed himself off the stone carefully and pushed the lantern towards a dark shape in front of him.

It was a man! The man was shaking and darting his eyes at Vincent and then at his boots, squinting while staring into the light.

"Monsieur, are you alright?" Vincent exclaimed, hoping that the man would give a sane answer and not a delirious one like his shaking suggested. Vincent was not encouraged by the man's response.

"I should've known…away from …demon castle, forks, dressers at my age… lights, tools… demons." Most of what the man said was intelligible, and between his mumbling and shaking all Vincent could make out were disconnected words. This led Vincent to doubt the man's sanity.

"Tools?" he repeated skeptically, "Demons? Are you sure…"

"Boy, I know I saw…saw demons…cursed items…killers at every corner…corners are killers."

"Cursed items and killing corners?" Now Vincent was sure his assumption was certain.

The man looked at him, noted his skeptical face, and then burst out laughing. It was a gruesome sight. As he laughed, the man coughed and barely breathed but continued to laugh and laugh. This time, Vincent started to back away from the man.

"The little boy doesn't believe. Oh, no wonder." He laughed again and then his expression changed and he caught Vincent with eyes devoid of humor. Vincent froze in the gaze. It reminded him…no, it can't be… but the expression, the fevered eyes reminded him of his mother. Seeing his mother's expression on this insane man sent a shiver down Vincent's spine.

The man finally spoke and the grave voice with a hint of mocking seemed to reach Vincent on the inside. "You don't believe. Well, it's your own fault." The man pointed a finger covered with dirty, new cuts and scrapes at Vincent and smiled eerily in the darkness. The man gestured widely into the dark. "See for yourself." And with that, the man closed his eyes and slumped to the ground.

Vincent backed away from the unmoving form and looked out into the darkness that the man's last words spoke of. He could still see the stone bridge, but there was more stone past the bridge. He could make out a thick of layer of stone stretching high into the sky illuminated by a large stream of light near it. Finally it hit Vincent. "I've made it to the castle!" He ran towards the light as fast as he could. All the coldness of the man's account and the chill of the snow faded away into the wonderful hope of reaching the castle. "I'm almost there," he thought. "Five more minutes, two minutes, 60 seconds, 30 seconds, 10 seconds… I'm here."

The scene he saw at the door, took seconds to take in, but he stood there frozen in place while the warmth melted away into an unwelcome emotion that Vincent rarely encountered: horror. Everywhere in the castle he saw chaos. Bright lights and colors warped his vision and loud noises he had rarely noticed while running now deafened his ears. "The scene is incomprehensible," Vincent thought. Men were waging a war against household objects and furniture! The respected men in society, town drunks, and even farmers were acting like town lunatics. Compared to these men, Monsieur Maurice looked frightfully sane. Then Vincent screamed as his reality shattered. The objects were fighting back! No, it couldn't be possible, but that was what he saw! Men were losing and injuring themselves in a fight with household objects. Teacups were pouring scalding hot tea off banisters, a scarlet footrest with gold trim was biting a man, mops were suffocating a man before Vincent's eyes, and knives chased another man out of one room and through the castle doorway, passing Vincent.

Then in one horrifying moment, a gold letter opener saw him. The gold weapon advanced slowly toward him and in his frozen state, it easily trapped him at the door within seconds. "It must have heard me scream and wants to finish me off," he thought as the now familiar fear crawled through him again. His Fear had been with him on this trip for too long and finally he couldn't take it. It was consuming him. His ears felt like exploding from the sound of screaming men and the victory cheers of the triumphant objects. Colors danced and swam before the boy's eyes. His vision blurred, flicked, and was then lost in one second. He lost control of his body.

"No, please-,"Vincent whimpered as he lost focus. His body hit the ground, the demons faded away, and Vincent finally knew peace.

AN: Alright that's the third chapter. Poor Vincent, he had to go through a lot all in one day! The next chapter will be in Ari's perspective. Please Review and PM me with your thoughts.

-Kittyhawk09