Chapter 11: Foreboding Dreams

August 19th- Wendy

It is a weekend Wendy can't find herself enjoying as she lays in her bed. Her bedroom walls are colored pink and decorated with stickers of flowers, butterflies, and stars, and the carpeted floor is a dark red color. She's wrapped in her favorite purple duvet, something she's accustomed to doing for the past five days after she was told, or rather warned of the approaching gloom and a monster roaming about in South Park from Stan. She's still unable to fully believe him. There haven't been any strange occurrences as of late aside from the mysterious murder that took place nearly a week ago. Although that's the case, her mind refuses to drop the topic, plaguing her thoughts almost every minute of the day, and as a result, she began to spend excessive amounts of time in her room, allowing herself to be swept into her negative thoughts that only weighed her spirits down even more. But she soon found solace in her room, something she thought would never happen since it's spacious enough for more than just herself to be occupying it. The Testaburger's aren't rich, but both of her parents work jobs that pay them exceptionally well.

Wendy snuggles under her bedsheets with a soft breath of content. She isn't cold because the heat is on, she just loves the feeling of the soft fabric. She shuts her eyes as she continues to bask in the warmth, close to falling asleep even though it's still morning and she had woken up an hour ago.

Suddenly, a numbing pain erupts on her right wrist, feeling as though something hard is slowly embedding itself into her skin. The little noirette opens her eyes and sits up into a seiza position, facing the window that's on the left side of her bed. A pale purple nightstand is also on that side, and on top of it are a lamp and a yellow flower with purple petals created out of clay. She's wearing a rosy pink two-piece pajama set with a big rainbow on her shirt and a bunch of smaller rainbows on her pants. She pulls the covers up to her shoulders, then hovers her right arm over her lap, and rolls up her sleeve a bit to reveal her bracelet. She forgot she had put it on after she woke up. Her skin is faintly bruised, printed with hearts from the pressure of laying down on her hand. Immediately, her face saddens as she thinks of her best friend, who she has been eluding lately. She pictures the hurt stares she would receive from Bebe whenever she ignored her, and an equal feeling makes its way into Wendy's chest. She really wants to tell Bebe what Stan told her, but she can't risk ruining their friendship any more than she already has. She's certain Bebe wouldn't believe her, and would most likely think both her and Stan were crazy.

Grimacing, Wendy uses her left hand to cover up her bracelet. Somehow, the heat radiating from the plastic yellow and light purple hearts feel cold to her. The artificial cold against her palm is like a reminder—reminding her that she isn't owning up to what the bracelet means to her and Bebe. They had their mothers buy the bracelets for them for a reason: it's visual proof of their inseparable friendship. Wendy and Bebe chose the wristlets they thought would resemble the other more - the hearts indicated their aimable affection towards each other, and the colors were what they knew the other girl liked. Wendy visualizes the elated smiles they shared as they showed each other the bracelet they selected.

"I don't deserve to wear this anymore..." she thinks sadly. She removes her hand from over the bracelet, frowning at it. She takes it off her wrist and clutches it, unwilling to discard it. She makes a pained face, her hand holding the bracelet shaking slightly.

A few light knocks on her door startles her out of her emotional conflict. "Wendy, are you up?" It was her mother who asked.

Before giving her a response, Wendy quickly stuffs the bracelet underneath her purple and white pillow, then rolls down her sleeve. "Yes," she says monotonously.

Her door pushes open, and her mother enters halfway into her room, wearing a white long-sleeved shirt, a brown skirt that went past her kneecaps, and socks. She has chin-length black hair and purple eyes. She's frowning, it's an expression she's worn for five days straight every time she sees Wendy cooped up in her room. "Are you hungry? Breakfast is still on the table."

Wendy looks down at her lap, feeling her legs becoming numb. "I'm not hungry," she says quietly.

Letting out a sigh, her mother walks over to her, leaving the door partly ajar. She sits down on the edge of the bed beside her daughter. "When are you going to tell me and your father what's wrong? We hate seeing you like this." Wendy's heart aches at her troubled, pleading tone. Ambivalent thoughts start to race through her mind.

"Should I tell her...? Would she even believe me...?"

A soft, warm hand places itself on top of hers amidst her short pondering. Orchid-colored eyes gaze over into a pair of purple ones. "Whatever is bothering you, you can tell me. I'm right here to listen," her mother says reassuringly, giving her hand a light squeeze.

Wendy looks down at their hands, suddenly feeling courageous. There is no denying how unrealistic her confession is going to be, but it no longer matters. Once she gets this off her chest, not only would the heavy weight be lifted, but the next person she's going to tell is her best friend. Craig was the first, and she initially thought she was going to regret telling him. Instead, she feels bad for scaring him. She'll apologize to him on Monday, then tell Bebe about the darkness and Beings of Darkness', and apologize to her as well. She just hopes that they're still friends afterwards. She balls her hand underneath her mother's hand into a fist, a start to letting her mother know that she's ready to speak now. She looks back into her mother's eyes. "Mom-" she's shocked that her voice was filled with a different emotion after she uttered that single word. As of late, she's only been in a befuddled state. But three gentle knocks on her door stop her from resuming.

A head full of red hair peeks in through the small opening of the door before her father shows himself and enters her room. He has violet-colored eyes, and he's wearing a long-sleeved denim shirt, black trousers, and socks.

"Good timing, honey. Wendy was just about to tell me what's been troubling her," Wendy's mother says. She invites her husband over by patting a spot beside her on Wendy's bed. He obliges.

Wendy feels her confidence swiftly being replaced by nervousness now that her father is here. He sits himself next to her mother, leaning forward to get a better look at Wendy. Not another word is said, making the silence around the family awkward. The two adults look at Wendy with reliable anticipation in their eyes, waiting patiently for her to speak. Wendy takes it upon herself to face them by switching her position to crisscross, her and her mother's now interlocked hands ending up on her bedsheets.

Some more seconds fleet by when her father decides to break the silence. "Wendy?" He says in a tender tone.

Wendy becomes conscious of the light pressure in her hand. She swallows her hesitation, but doesn't look at her parents. "Mom, dad..." she pauses, unable to think of how to go about divulging them of the supernatural entities. Truth be told, she was in the same predicament when it was just her mother in the room. She knows what to say, but not how to start it off.

"Sweetie, just say what's on your mind." Wendy didn't even need to look up to know who spoke in that motherly tone of voice.

That's when Wendy opens her mouth again. "Stan told me that a monster called a Being of Darkness is in this town, and that the darkness is coming here." She blinks as if she's suddenly back in control of her body. The following silence is both rigid and seeping with confusion. The young girl timidly raises her head, seeing her parents' faces scrunched up in returning concern.

But then her mother straightens her lips into a hard line. "Um-"

"I'm not lying!" Wendy says before the woman could verbally express her doubt. "Stan really did tell me all of that!"

"Wendy, calm down," her mother says softly. She gives Wendy's hand one last squeeze before letting go. "Stan is a child, and children your age will say strange things like that and have a habit of telling others."

"Your mother's right," her father says. "Whatever these Beings of Darkness' are aren't real, and as for the darkness, you see that every night, so you shouldn't worry about any of those things."

"Exactly," her mother says. "Next time someone tells you something that worries you, be sure to tells us, okay? You're too young to be bottling up your troubles."

Wendy frowns. "Okay..."

Her parents stand up from her bed, then her mother presses her lips against her forehead in a gentle kiss before they both walk out of her bedroom. Her father stops in the doorway with his hand on the doorknob. "Your breakfast will be in the refrigerator whenever you're hungry," he tells her before closing the door.

Wendy is unsure what to feel. She knew her parents weren't going to believe her or Stan, and after they assuaged her of her worries and fears, she now feels angry at herself for almost believing Stan. "Yeah...mom and dad are right. Stan was already acting weird that day, so he could've been making all of that up." Abruptly, a low but audible rumble comes from within her stomach. Eager to eat her mother's cooking, she gets down from her bed and leaves her room.

Nighttime arrives quicker than Wendy wanted it to. She's currently ascending the stairs back to her bedroom. She didn't want to leave her parents company, but they never allowed her to stay up past midnight, so they sent her to bed five minutes early.

She spent the whole day with her parents in the living room after she ate a hearty breakfast. They were sitting on their black leather couch, Wendy being in the middle. First, they watched the news on their 70-inch flat screen television that's mounted against the wall, however the update regarding last Sunday's murder did nothing to lift the disquieted citizens spirits. The killer remained undiscovered, and Eric's whereabouts were still unknown.

"How are the police this incompetent?" Wendy's mother asked, very disappointed at the authorities. "Since they don't have any evidence on the murderer, they should have the cops patrolling the area 24/7. I refuse to let our daughter leave the house again with a killer on the loose."

Wendy frowned. Her father began to flip through the channels for something else to watch. "But what about school?" She asked, dreading the thought of being at home until the murder case was solved. With the rate the police were going, she could practically imagine herself being unable to attend school for an unknown number of years all because the cops couldn't do their job properly.

"Me or your father will take you. I've been meaning to drive you to school since you first started. I don't trust the bus driver with how fast she goes most of the time. Thank God she's never gotten into any accidents with you and the other children on board," her mother replied, relieved. Her father didn't voice his opinion, although he agreed with what she said, still trying to find a show for them to watch on the television.

After passing about twenty channels, he stopped on a movie instead. The comedic and family-friendly film ended in the afternoon, and from there they watched their own movies from DVDs until nightfall.

Wendy enters her bedroom with a yawn, now feeling tired despite her reluctance to leave her parents' side. She closes the door and ambles over to her bed. She doesn't bother fixing the bedsheets as she climbs onto the mattress, quickly making herself comfortable, then drifting off to sleep.

/

Soundless footsteps stroll along a ground covered in snow. As the little girl walks without a destination, she glances around at her surroundings. She's very aware that she's outside, however her question is, is she in South Park? It's a query she knows she will have to find the answer to on her own. She looks up at the dark and cloudless sky; only a blinding, bright moon is shining its colorless rays down below. No houses or any other buildings are in the vicinity as she lowers her gaze - it's just herself, the snow, and the moon. Nothing can be seen in the distance as she continues on with her thoughtless trek.

"Just where am I?" She wonders to herself. She is also curious as to why she's not cold. In fact, she doesn't feel anything. This is a very strange yet relaxing sensation. One would never think that a place void of temperature would feel anything but pleasant.

A strong, cold-less breeze forces Wendy to stop in her tracks while closing her eyes, blowing her black hair across her face. Once the sudden gust dies down, she sweeps her tousled hair back, then open her eyes, widening them in that instant.

Suddenly standing not too far from her is a person donned in all-black clothing. Wendy can tell that the individual is a male based on their physique, however she can't see his face with the hood over his head, the moon doing little to no help of distinguishing his features. A breeze blows past the two, this time making Wendy shiver. The current is chilly, causing a few strands of her hair to flutter in front of her and for the male's cloak to sway behind him. Wendy hugs her herself tightly in an attempt to give herself some warmth.

Slowly, the enigmatic man raises a hand extending out his forefinger, pointing directly at the moon high above Wendy's head. Instinctively, she turns around to look up at the moon, misinterpreting the man's gesture. Unaware of the danger the moon is about to be in, Wendy cocks an eyebrow, trying to see if anything is wrong with the pretty satellite.

A low but faint droning sound emits from behind her. She quickly spins around to see a red energy surface from the tip of the man's finger and increase in size.

Wendy's eyes widen with fear, assuming the man is about to kill her. "W-what are you doing?!" Her panicked demand is left unanswered as the sinister energy from the man's finger stops growing, a spine-chilling smile making itself visible from underneath his hood. His teeth are white and sharp like daggers. Horrified, Wendy's breath hitches in her throat.

"Goodbye." After uttering that one word in a deep, malicious voice, the red energy shoots from the male's finger at sonic speed. Wendy's eyes remain big as a violent burst of wind rushes past her body, light from around the area rapidly vanishing and engulfing them in darkness.

An eerie chuckle resonates within Wendy's ears as the entire landscape fades into further darkness.

/

August 20th

Wendy bolts upright with a scream, tears spilling from her eyes. Thudding footsteps approach her room soon after, then the door flies open to reveal her worried mother, who's wearing a light blue gown.

"Wendy, what's the matter?" She quickly walks over to Wendy's shaking form, sitting next to her on the edge of her bed.

Wendy hugs her mother as she continues to cry, spouting unintelligible words the woman is unable to comprehend. She caresses the girl's hair. "Shhh, calm down. It's okay, it was just a nightmare," she coos, already knowing what frightened her daughter. After a couple of minutes, Wendy's sobs reduce to whimpers. She detaches herself from her mother, wiping her eyes with a sniffle. "Are you okay now?" Her mother asks, stroking Wendy's hair a few more times before removing her hand from her head.

With another sniffle, Wendy shakes her head. "I-it was really creepy, mom. A-a scary looking man s-shot the moon, and then everything went d-dark."

"Oh Wendy, don't worry. Like I said, it was just a nightmare. No scary man will shoot the moon," her mother reassures her unknowingly. She stands up from the bed, and pecks Wendy on the forehead. "Now go back to sleep." She leaves the room, shutting the door quietly behind her.

Wendy rubs her eyes again, then her cheeks, ridding the remaining tears and tearstains. "Why did I have a dream like that anyway?" She wonders, not really knowing what else to feel aside from fear and confusion. But her mother was right, that was merely just a nightmare...but for some reason, Wendy feels compelled to get out of bed to look at the night sky. And so she does, heading towards her window. She pushes her lilac-colored curtain to one side and gazes out the window. She's greeted by a breathtaking display of the night sky. The moon is high enough for her to see, and there are also dozens of clouds and stars.

"Wooow...so beautiful..." Wendy utters in mesmerized awe. She wishes she could see this every night instead of thick, grey clouds. Day and night, year after year—it's always grey clouds in the upper atmosphere.

As much as she wants to savor the view before her, she soon feels herself getting sleepy. Muffling a yawn behind her hand, she stares at the sky for another couple of seconds, then pulls the curtain back over the window. She wanders back over to her bed, climbing on top of it near her pillow. She feels underneath the cushion, smiling tiredly when her fingers touch a plastic material. She lays down pulling the covers over her body, and it doesn't take long for her to fall into a peaceful, dreamless sleep.

Kyle

Darkness.

That is all Kyle sees from his sitting position on his bed. Every single light source has been replaced or taken out. His lamp, gone. His alarm clock, gone. The lightbulb to his ceiling fan, gone. And the curtains were swapped with solid black ones.

Kyle had woken up from a restless slumber when he discovered his room changed a few days ago. He immediately panicked, thinking the power had gone out. But then he recalled a similar scenario like this three months ago...when his mother first became possessed. However, as the days went by, his room remained dark, and that's when he noticed that every little thing that could provide even the faintest bit of lighting was taken out or replaced. His intuition told him this was his mother's doing, but he dared not leave his room to ask her why she did such a random thing. She would ignore him anyway as she always did whenever she's in her possessed phase. Which she's been in longer than usual.

And now he believes his father has become a victim of possession as well. Ever since Kyle deliberately locked himself in his room, his father not once came to check up on him. It's like both of his parents no longer care about him, they only look after Ike as if he's the only son they have. But Kyle does leave his room sometimes, he has to stave off his hunger, and the leftovers from dinner do the trick. He always had to wait until his family were asleep to sneak into the kitchen, and he ate by himself at the dining table. It's honestly sad that he has to do that in his very own home, like he's suddenly become an outcast.

Slowly blinking his eyes, Kyle looks over at his window, or rather the vague silhouette of the curtains. An unexpected vibration of thunder doesn't even make him flinch. He feels numb and weary. He hasn't been to sleep at all for three days, which is exactly when his bedroom became a room absent of light.

After another rumble of thunder comes steady pattering against the abode. Kyle listens to the soporific sounds, his eyes eventually sliding shut. He's off to dreamland in a matter of seconds.

/

Kyle finds himself standing outside on a path made of cobblestone. Looking up, he sees some clouds shifting leisurely in front of a moon in a dark sky. He doesn't know whether to be enamored or on-edge, but the moment he looks down he screams. Before him is a boy with black hair and sapphire eyes. Unlike Kyle, he's wearing casual clothes. "S-Stan...?" Kyle utters, surprised to see him here in this unknown place. Silently, the other child turns and walks away. "W-wait! Where are you going?" Kyle hurries after Stan, matching his pace alongside him. "Stan?" Kyle calls his name again, but the noirette maintains an expression of obliviousness. Kyle frowns down at the ground, sad that his super best friend is ignoring him.

They walk forward in silence, even their footsteps are quiet. Not a single nocturnal animal can be heard. It's like the world has become mute.

"We're here..."

Startled by the soft-spoken voice, Kyle raises his head. First, looking at Stan, then following his line of sight. His lime-green eyes gape at a large castle surrounded by tall trees on both sides of the pathway—the pathway comes to an end by a big patch of grass in front of the building. The architecture of the castle is modern but greatly ominous. It's colored a blood red and black. A single staircase leading up to the entrance has two torches alight on each side.

Kyle blinks, dumbfounded. Just where the heck are they that they came across a castle?! But it's not any ordinary castle he's always seen in children's books, they were illustrated far less eerie than the one he's looking at right now. He blinks again when he sees Stan walking towards it. He quickly runs in front of Stan to stop him from going any further, but the boy doesn't falter. He walks straight through Kyle like he isn't even there.

Kyle stiffens, then his body starts shaking. His insides feel like they're freezing. He hugs himself in an unsteady embrace with tears surfacing in his eyes.

"Kyle, what're you doing? C'mon!"

The uncomfortable sensation subsides in one swift motion. Kyle gasps as his trembling goes rigid. He shakes his head, then wipes his eyes, very glad that the torpefying cold is no more. After he's done clearing his vision, he turns around seeing Stan waiting for him by the staircase of the castle, beckoning him over with an impatient wave of his hand. Kyle looks at the castle again with anxious eyes. "W-why are we going in there for?" He watches Stan's face shift into a dour expression. Even from a slightly far distance, his austere mien makes Kyle want to take back his question. Stan walks towards him, his strides somewhat intimidating. Kyle feels himself increasing the gap between them, however not by much. He would take a step back every few seconds. But then he stops, as if he backed up against a wall. He spins around to see what he bumped into, but all he sees is the cobblestone path stretching on into nothingness. When he turns back around, Stan is suddenly right in front of him. He nearly screams again out of shock, but flinches when the boy puts a finger on the middle of his forehead.

Overwrought lime-green eyes gaze into vacant...black ones? No, Stan's eyes aren't completely black. Kyle can see some blue in his irises, although the color is faint amid this nighttime setting.

"Kyle...once the moon no longer exists, you will be brought to that castle. However, you won't be alone when you enter and meet the entity inhabiting it." The fake Stan's finger trails down to the right side of Kyle's cheek, resting his palm there. Kyle blushes at his soft touch. "The darkness that's been contained for an indefinite number of years is now being manipulated by someone with formidable strength. You've met one of the darkness' underlings before known as a Being of Darkness, which is the one who corrupted your mother, who in turn, corrupted your father into serving the Dark Master." With a somber frown, the black-haired child's hand travels downward once again, stopping at Kyle's chest, directly over his heart. Kyle has so many questions he wants to ask this imposter, but he can't move his lips. "No one's lives will be the same. It's not just your parents that have been claimed by the Being of Darkness. Many others in your hometown are suffering the same fate—adults and children alike. But you, Kyle, are the first among your friends to be aware of your powers. It is solely up to you on how you harness your magic."

"But how...?" Kyle would've rather voiced his thought out loud. If only he could open his mouth...

The fake Stan's hand lingers on the redhead's chest for an additional second, then he seizes Kyle's left hand. Still frowning, the dark-blue-eyed boy looks down at their connected hands. "I know you have a lot of questions you want to ask, but I cannot provide you the answers you long to hear." A small smile appears on the noirette's lips. "Though...I can help you get some closure." He looks into Kyle's eyes. "When you wake up, do not hesitate to open the curtains in your room. Allow some unwanted light into the darkness."

Turning away, the fake Stan gently pulls the voiceless boy into walking. Kyle glances down at their hands, then at the castle he's supposedly going to go to in the real world. He hopes that whoever accompanies him to this place is going to be Stan, and no one else.

It doesn't take long for the two boys to be standing before the black wooden door of the castle. Very slowly, the arched door frame opens producing an ear-grating creak. An endless abyss greets them. Kyle tenses up nervously. "Push all of your fears and worries behind you," the copy of his super best friend tells him. "Once you enter, your new life will begin. Are you prepared to face these changes head-on, Kyle Broflovski?"

Kyle closes his eyes. He repeats the other boy's advice in his head. "Push all of my fears and worries behind me..." Opening his eyes, he does the same with his mouth. "I'm...ready."

Without another word, the two children disappear into the darkness.

/

Palliative rainfall is the first thing that registers in Kyle's eardrums as he comes to. Next is stygian darkness. He sits up in a daze, leaning back against the wall. That dream left his head feeling fuzzy, but strangely well-rested. This time, the thunder makes him jolt, sounding louder compared to the other two times. He looks towards where his window is, and frowns.

"Do not hesitate to open the curtains in your room. Allow some unwanted light into the darkness."

Kyle is honestly scared to go near the curtains, fearing that the moment he touches them his mother will come barging in, and he doesn't want to see her right now. But...at the same time...he wants to see the light again. Even if it's raining, grey clouds are better than absolute darkness.

His body being fueled by a boost of determination, Kyle gets out of bed, heading for his window. He stands before the gloomy colored curtains, then grasps them with both hands.

"I hope this works..."

Gripping them tightly, he splits them apart, allowing the light to shine into his dark room.