No Pain - No Gain

I am a woman, roughly at my fourties and I have a husband and three daughters, whom I live with. I work for the government, at a secret facility where I undergo severe training every day for 10 hours. My job is not a secret tho, but it is common in this world, that all the government facilities are not commonly used by anyone else but the people who work there.

This world is a odd and cruel place, even more, than the world we live in while we are awake. In this world they choose someone every day to "serve their country" - which basically means, you have been chosen to be killed for the good of the people. It is a duty of every soul in this world, a task that is considered a great privilage.

There also something else, that seems just insane in this world. There are more secrets than just the governments parts. People are ruled with senseless rules, like this roulette of life and death that spins every day. The government also uses a substance that creates energy in this world. It is forbidden from everyone else, than the people who work in the energyplants that use the stuff. In a way it is everywhere, this substance, in very low quantities, but in its purest form it is considered a deadly poison. The plants use the stuff in its purest form and they even moderate it so that it thickens and becomes even more dangerous.

All the people who handle the stuff are bound to the places where they work. They have no families or other life, than the work they do for the good of the mankind. Those people are also chosen by random, the people taken from their original families, never to be seen again. No one questions this. World needs energy. World needs people to work to create the energy.

The woman who I am is just as fanatic as any person in this world. She does not question anything. Her job is to train herself to withstand ridicilous amounts of pain. 10 hours per every day she comes to her job and starts her training. She doesn't know why they need to know, how much pain a person can be trained to withstand, and it doesn't matter. It is her duty. Her place in this world. There are no pauses in her training. The sessions are so mindless that my mind steps out of her and just watches the process she undergoes. I wouldn't stand it, nor can I understand how anyone could. I can't even describe it with words how sick the whole training is.

One day she is so spent from her intense work day, that she is a little late from leaving for her home. I see her family sitting infront of the tv, watching the evening programs with her mother. The normal program halts as a government announcement airs. Her mother was chosen to "serve the country" but as they couldn't get a hold of her since she wasn't home and wasn't answering her phone, they have chosen her daughter instead.

The children begin to cry. Their mother will be executed. Her husband asks the mother that isn't she sad that her daughter will die instead of her? He tells her, that they need her daughter, the small children will need her as will her husband. The mother just says that she thinks its a great honor that her daughter will "serve her country" in this manner. The children wont stop crying. They don't want their mother to die.

At the same time the mother is on her way from the work. For some reason she is particularly tired and doesn't catch the ride home and she is left behind to walk all the way from the middle of a pitch black forest to her home in the city. The darkness scares her a bit but she has to make it to home. On her way she loses her way in the dark roads and takes a wrong turn and ends up in a energyplants dumping facility. It is so dark that she stumbles and falls into a pit in the ground, that has some of the condenced, poisoneous stuff in the bottom. Her hand gets enveloped in it and her screams ring in the forest like cries of some dying creature.

The poison burns her like nothing she has ever felt in her entire life. The pain is beyond anything and everything. As her hand burns, the pain burns through her, her thoughts, her feelings, the reality of this twisted world coming ever so clear, adding a mental edge to the pain that makes her howl in terror. The reality of the insanity and cruelty is like knifes through her heart. How is it even possible she hasn't woken up to it before? She feels betrayed, used and angry. How is it possible? The whole world.. serving this sick government like they want. People dying willingly for it. And for the first time she ponders, how many exactly serve willingly? How many are just silenced and killed and buried and the masses decieved with a twisted sense of honor and duty? The poison and its pain clears her head painfully and she understand what a lie the whole world is living. She knows it has something to do with this substance she was burned with. It is everywhere. But why is it such a secret? Why is it kept so hidden amidsts everything? She realizes that the answer must be in what she just had to go through. A rough awakening from being almost a mindless zombie. She wants to wake her family too, that is the sole thing clear in her mind now. She has to brake them free from the invisible bonds. She scoops up some of the substance from the pit with a discarded metal box and starts to run.

The dreams turns into mashed images of her arriving in her home in the nick of time. The government police is searching her furiously to execute her and she makes it home just before they arrive also. She ushers the family into a hidden closet behind the bedroom area and she makes them touch the substance in the box. Their pain is just as great, but it clears their mind up like it did to her. The police is banging in the door. The family is trying to decide what to do. Everything feels hasty, panicked and desperate. They don't want to give up their mother to this insanity. All of them want to escape the whole world now.

The end is obscured by a gunfire and unclear visions of the whole family taken to a place where they hold the people who have "woken up" from the lies..

Nocturnal Behaviour part 49: Survive, Defend yourself, Betrayed!, Kill or get killed, Cruel Revenge, Remember the things you don't want to remember.

I slip in and out of the dream and the consiousnes that switch between the reality, and the worlds of the dream. I breathe. I realise, how I squirm in the reality when bad things happen to me in the dream..

1. Survive.

Postapocalyptic world. Only few have survived the fierce viral infectionepidemics that spread worldwide. It's dark already, and I'm one of those who survived and fight to stay alive. I've been behind that factory quite long now, it is somewhat safe there. There's only five workers running the factory. They don't ever see me, as I'm just a part of the shadows, and I don't want to be seen by other people. The scarse few are dangerous these days, a part of them infested by the diseases, some of them have become very violent after surviving that one disease, some of them reduced to only ruins of themselves. There is nothing else than this surviving. I don't think, I don't feel. I look at the sky going dark and it seems wierd, too dark and still too colorfull. If I would still think, I would be bothered by it.
I close my eyes and sleep.

2. Defend yourself.

It's bright already when I wake up. There are enormous amounts of cats, they survived, unlike many humans. They've become wild without the humans, likewise as the humans have.

The gravelpiles behind the factory were a good place to hide, even if the place was crawling with cats. They had surrounded me while I was sleeping, getting ready to attack. One by one they sneaked closer but I was ready. Things like this happened all the time, after all.
They attacked, crying as they came and I hissed and cried back like a cat, throwing them around. I didn't understand it like that, I had no recollection of me being a human. I only survived.
Finally the cats gave up, understanding that this big mammalian had taken a part of their territory, letting them be around there if they didn't bother the being.

I jumped on a cardboard littered flatbead of a truck to sleep after the battle, thinking it was a nicer place to lie down, as it was much softer. The factory is rather silent today, there was only one machine moving the gravel to other piles in the distance. I crawl halfway to the boxes and start to sleep again.

3. Betrayed!

Dream within a dream. I feel like I'm being watched. A shadow covers the sun for a moment and I roll over and drift further into the dream.

I wake up to someone pulling me.
"Wake up, girl!" Someone is pulling me by my shoulder and I cry out like a cat, jumping backwards, hissing, half in a dream still. People in the room are staring at me and I stare back at them.
"She's gone mad!" Someone says. For my own surprise I realise I understand what they are saying and slowly come to the understandment that I'm like them too, a human being. The trauma made me forget, and for a while, there was only surviving. I slowly rise up and the others look suspicious.
"No.. I'm.. fine.." Speaking feels utterly strange. The words are mushed and hard to vocalize. Something flutters in the edges of my memory, but I can't get a hold of it, the present moment is so much more important now. I understand I've been betrayed, that I've been taken somewhere. I don't know why.
One wall of the room is made of mirrorglass and as I see my own reflection I startle at it. My clothes are reduced to rags and my hair has tangled into dreadlocks. There's a terrible wound in my face, it travels from the edge of my hairline to the inner corner of my left eye, down the cheek to my chin. I can't remember how I got it. It's a bit infected, red and nasty looking and I haven't felt the pain at all in a long time.
I try to inspect it a bit from the mirror and snarl at the sight. All the others look horrified. They aren't exactly clean themselves either, but much better off than me.
"You must have had it rough." One of the older ladies says and I stare at her vacantly. One man rolls his eyes.
"We've all had it rough." Everybody else nods. The idea of being sorry for someone is utterly strange to me. I just look at them and nod myself, and go back to trying to fix my hair a bit.
"Does anyone remember how they got here?" Nobody does. People look scared. Suddenly the door at the back of the room opens and a corridor shining in bright light appears, it looks inviting. No one moves, until we hear a voice speaking through a speaker in the cealing.
"Move away from the room. Clear the place in one day and survive. There will be only one winner."
The older lady starts to cry and the others keep their faces without any expression. This one man grabs the lady from the head and twists and a loud crack comes out of her neck and the people start rushing to the corridor. I sneak after them, making myself invisible, as the senses of the "cat" click on again.
I remember that the other people are to be avoided. This cruel world has invented cruel entertainments for the ones who have the power.

4. Kill or get killed.

One day has almost passed. I know that the sole survivor with me, is the man who killed the old lady right at the beginning. I've been playing cunningly, I haven't had to kill anyone just yet, I've been sneaking as a cat in the shadows, observing how the others have battled and died. I know that playing this smart and cunning will carry me to victory, surviving is important to me, I do it carefully, not with brute force like that man.
He's standing right below me, ready to step into the last room. I'm crouching over the metalstructures that run over the corridor. He isn't even using his basic senses to know that I'm that close. He steps in, looking confident enough to take on the whole world.
Two minutes and the screams and the sounds of a fight start. As I thought, there's always the last opponent. Someone, who really knows how to fight. The screams of the man would be heartbraking if I would think of it that way. Finally they die off.
"Heidi *******, you have survived to the last stand, you can't turn away from a battle anymore."
I think they mean me with that name, alltho I have no recollection of being named anything. All I know, is that I havent been running from any battles, I've saved my strenght, and chosen my battle well.
I come down and sneak closer to the entrance.

5. Cruel revenge.

There's a small wall between the larger space and the entrance. I can smell blood in the air, and the heavy heed fills the space. There's been more fights, than the last one. Cruel entertainments, and all that.. I know I can't win this fight with sneaking around. I have a brutal 101 before me. I take a breathe and step on the scene.
The scene has been painted with rusty red. Blood spatters cover the walls, the floor, the roof. I look at the huge thing that stands in the middle of this sight. Its diseasetorn face tells of the insanity, that has been left after the infection has eaten up its brains. Its huffing and puffing from exitement, it probably is picturing my innerds as its necklace in a moments time. I know I can't best that thing in force, but in cunning I'll beat it coming and going.
The thing launches itself after me, and it feels like the whole room is shaking under its weight. I slide under it as it tries to pull me into a deadly embrace with its meaty fists, and I pull the torn frazzle of it's pants and trip it over. It falls over with a huge crush and I wrap the piece of fabric over its ankles, and swiftly slide away from its arms reach.
It gets up and tries to lunge at me, but falls again, for the trap I placed on its ankles. I claw at its eyes and move away from its reach. Now it is really angry, blood running down its face and has a surprised look on its face.
I know, this is going to be a long fight.
As I dance the dance of death with the monster, something sparks inside me, a frantic need, a bloodred rage for the whole situation, as the understanding comes back to me slowly, even when I'm using my survivor instincts.
At last I've managed to lure the monsterman to the back of the room, at the glasscovered wall, and I've wrapped its limbs in the frazzles of its clothes. The monster is defenseless.
I quickly scavenge over the room for other pieces od fabric and tie the monsterman to the ironbars that jut out the floor like broken teeth. I can see the rich and the priviledged, that are watching the show only meters away from us, from a lighted room. They are clean and elegant and clearly shocked that I have tied the monster up, the monster no one else has won before.
A fierce bruning of rage still ravages me and my ears are ringing from the monstermans frustated howls, and the adrenaline still burns my veins like acid as I watch the true monsters of this game from the windows.
An idea wakes in my mind, an idea that I might find terrible if I could understand it better. I grab a piece of fabric and shut the monsters mouth with it and tear its pants away. The priviledged swarm to the window, trying to see as much as they can.
I fuck the monster with mindless intensity, ripping it with my nails and teeth, mad with lust and rage. I don't see or feel anything than this insane anger and need and want to rip everything to pieces. As the orgasm bursts inside me I drop down to the floor from the lap of the monster and brake the window with my fist. I grab a shard of the windowglas with my bloody hand and cut the penis of the monster with it, throwing it towards the watchers.
I hear the screaming crowd muffled and silenced, I think I'm screaming too.
Something hits me and I loose my consiousness.

6. Remember the things you don't want to remember.

I wake to a greying sunshine. Someone is pulling my shoulder and I jump awake, no, not a new game, not anymore.
Slowly my sight begins to work and I understand I'm watching a middle-aged man, who is wearing worn, but rather neat clothes.
"No worries.. I was only trying to wake you up."
I inspect myself franticly. The blood has been washed away, as the dirt. I've been clad in worn but good clothes. The man is watching me, looking a little sad. He looks frighteningly friendly, but a bit tired.
"Where.. am I?" I mutter, twisting my dress in distress. I remember what I did to that monster and I feel like throwing up. I realise there are more people around us. In samekind, little worn clothes, looking nice and friendly. They all look a bit lost and tired.
We are on some big buildings parking space, under a shelter. In the parkinglot are three dirty busses, that are being loaded with stuff. I understand the building is an old supermarket. The sky looks misty.
"Are you alright?" The middle-aged man approaches me and touches my hand. I startle at his touch and he only grabs me harder, and squeezes my hand encouragingly. He smiles sadly as I try to pry my hand off his grasp.
"I hope you wouldn't be so afraid of me. After all, we are now married."
I stare at him with my mouth ajar and start to shake. I can't understand anything. I glance around and see my reflection from the window of the supermarket. Someone has attended to my wound and its not infected anymore so badly. It has closed up a bit, but its still very red. I touch my face with my free hand. "I think you are still very beautiful, Heidi." The man says, petting my hair with his other hand.
I try to stutter a question at him when a man in military uniform approaches us from the busses. He is holding a pile of papers and a pen. He looks very harsh.
"Resettlementprogram number 14, group 5, ready to team up to the transport vehicles.." The militaryman starts to call out names and people start to line up in pairs towards the busses. The man calls out my name and appareantly my husbands name and he picks me up carefully. I tremble on my feet and feel nausiated.
The memories start to come back to my, slowly and painfully. When I got attacked by that woman, that the disease had turned into a monster on that street when I was looking for something. That is how I got the wound in my face, alltho I killed that monster. That is when I loosed myself and started to survive. I remembered the game, the monster, the fight, the days with the wild cats, and how the suitmen took me from there, to the game. I remember how they shot me with a tranquilizing dart after I won. I had hazy recollections of me being carried on a strecher in a hospital-like place, washed, my wounds treated, vaccinated, inspected and how they tried to make me talk but I was too shocked.
Then I remember him. The doctor that was reading my file.
"Patient number 4761. Female, white. Name, Heidi *******, age 29. One child, Kristian ********, male, 5 years, missing.. "
I start to shake uncontrollably and something wet runs down my face. The man who is holding me tries to ask me whats wrong. I start to fight against him violently. I scream without words and try to get loose.
"KRISTIAN!!! KRISTIAN!!!" I shout over and over and my voice cracks and I still shout. Feels like my body is full of huge shards of glass, ripping, tearing. The man holds me silently, he looks so sad. I try to get loose but he is so strong.
"KRISTIAN!!"
I was looking for Kristian. After the first explosions, when everything was just confusing. Cause I couldn't find him anywhere. And then I forgot, traumatized by everything, and started to survive.
Kristian was still missing. He was only five years old. Could he have survived in a world like this? Could he? I had to find him, I had to.
"KRISTIAN!!!! KRISTIAN!!!!" I was screaming insanely and crying but the man wont let me go. The military man watches me angrily but doesn't say anything. We've all lost so much. One more, who has lost something isn't anything new. Nobody tells me to shut it and I cry in pain, trying to get loose, but they wont let me.
Finally the man tries to calm me down, petting my hair.
"Calm down Heidi, think of our unborn child, try to calm down, please."
I stare at him mouth open, tears running. The wound across my face is burning with the salt in my tears.
I stare to the horizon blankly, whimpering silently. The pain of the loss is too much. I don't want another child. I want Kristian, my son, my beloved son.
And it ain't that mans child, it's concieved by that monster.

I wake up.

Nocturnal Behaviour part 48; Pieces of a Puzzle

Bits and pieces here and there. Disappearing images, shades of feeling, grey and mist-like, like flashes in the light of a strobolight.
Faces, that change into another when you glance somewhere else.

We are walking down an old forestroad. There's grass growing at the middle of it already. Next to us flows a rushing river. You're telling a story of the people who once lived in the forest, of a village at the peninsula, how it was abandoned a long time ago. Only ghosts walk there on the cliffs now.

The sound of the water covers the rustle of the leafes in the violent wind. I know that the village starts at the end of the road that is snaking upwards the hills and that there's only unlife there. It's a big mistake to take another step, yet I can't hold myself, curiosity driving me ahead.

Wind grabs my hair and pulls me out of this consiousness. I drift like a meaningless mote in the space that holds nothing, and yet holds everything.

The house has been painted invisible. Inside it lives only ghosts, whispers, unspeakable horrors. Forgotten things from the borders of the worlds. Even going near that house raises cold creeps on my skin. I can't go inside that house, but I'm being driven like cattle. I don't want to go. I don't want to go. I don't want to open the door. I can't step over the threshold, and I'm picked up and put in the middle of those horrors.

I'm rolling restlessly from another thought to another, I realise I'm awake, and that someone is breathing next to me and that his hand is right next to my side. I slip back into the misty world of the dream.

We're children again, running down that hill. They are chasing us again, and I know we are in a hurry, we have to get away, that they can't see us in this place. It's too late already, they are shouting behind us. We run faster. You trip over in the slope.

We are walking along a gravelly road. It's middlesummer, hot and heedy. We had plans. Thoughts and all kinds of wishes. We were planning on doing it tonight, and I can't remember who told me about that show. That you can't watch it without going mad and that the ghosts will come and take you and make you one of them. You are squeezing the videotape in your small, sweaty hand and we circle around the hills to home.

I open the door and I know that the portal to another world has already opened. The possibility has been made true and soon sun will set down and this place will fill with them. Fear is electricity on our skin and everyone feels it. Someone is arguing that we can't watch it in this kind of house, that it aint possible. I'm laughing, and it sounds like crying, and I say that we are going to do it tonight. We aint backing up.

The walls crack, I am black and white picture, a cartoon slavering in the strawberryfields and a mouse is going to eat me alive and I kill my boss with a rake and a newsreader in the old, rattling tv says that this kind of program can't be shown to public, the wallpapers start to roll down by themselves, revealing the faces of people who have once died. I am dust, I am electrified picture and a piece of information traveling through a cabble and I explode in the picture tube and sit on the floor, mouth ajar, not realising that this all is happening during just one second and it's frying my brain.

I roll over, he is screaming mildly like he would be seeing my nightmare, where I am a prisoner and I moan too, even when I know I'm awake. My hip is on fire and there's a constant pain in my back. I seek a better position and slip back in.

I'm sitting on the floor and my friends are sitting so silently, like they're afraid. I realise I'm afraid too. I realise slowly that the wallpapers are faded and half molded. The floor creaks and the roof rattles. Motheaten curtains move ghostlike in the drift that sneakes throught the windows. Tv across the room is older than I remembered. I can't shut my eyes, altho I know I should. I'm afraid to look. Terrified. It's going to make us mad and when the sun sets, the portal opens all the way and we will be gone. The film is only making us ready for that, it isn't meant for the eyes of a human, not for the eyes of a child.
I can't stop watching.

It can't be described, it's only ideas. Satanistic, unspeakable evil as images that you can't turn away from and they sink into my mind like acid. Someone is screaming and I can't make out who it is. The only thing I see, are those pictures, so the screamer might as well be me, or then some other of the children.

Only one sane thought passes through my mind.
Why did I want to open the Pandora's box?

Nocturnal Behaviour part 47; Price of the Barrowed Time - part 2

Mickey and Donald were very worried. It was past ten p.m already and the kids were still outside, somewhere. They shoul've been home at eight already and they always followed that rule about home coming times.
Goofy came out just at the same time, as the children that came running to the yard from the broken fence of the old apartmentbuilding. All of the children looked pale and exhausted.
Goofy noticed right away that his son wasnt with them. He asked where the boy was, Clarabelles son was first to respond, as he was the oldest of the remaining children.
"We dont know, we havent seen him."
The other children were looking down at their feet, closing their mouths as they almost had revealed the terrible thruth.
Mickey and Donald shooed their small ones towards home and the others scattered on their way too.
Goofy stayed, standing in the yard, pondering about his sons whereabouts.

At home, when Donald was tugging his twins to bed for the night, he realised the siblings were acting odd. He was just covering his son when he burst out in tears, crying out hopelessly. He told the whole horrible story to Donald, and that Clarabelles son had told them to keep their mouths shut about the thruth. That no one would believe that such things had happened. The girl just shook in her bed, petrified in horror, nodding silently to every turn in the story, proving every word right.

Donald and Daisy called the other parents. After some interrigations, every children told the same unbelieveable story. Goofys son had not yet turned in either and no one had seen him. But that story.. it was just too fantastic to believe. Clarabelle didnt believe a word off it. Gladstone Ganger suggested that perhaps the kids had been playing in the dangerous house.. that maybe, just maybe Goofys son had fallen down through a floor. Everyone was horrified.
They chose Mickey to find the thruth out, as he was the smallest and the most resourceful of them. He would fit perfectly through smaller openings and if anyone could find him, he could.

But he could not find him. Not even the staircase that lead to the attic. But Mickey did feel the lingering, malicious presence in the abandoned theater. In a way Mickey had to just believe the story, as unpossible it sounded - since he too had heard the same stories as a younger mouse. That theater had been empty for a looooong time. Once it had been the jewel of the town, sold-out shows, countles star actors and endless reviews that phraised the shows. It had started out slowly.. accidents, odd misshappenings and tragic things that finally lead to the fact that no one wanted to work there. People were talking about evil forces, ghosts, hauntings, you named it, they talked about it.
Finally there was no point to put out shows, there were not enough people to work, not enough people to come and see the plays. They closed up the theater, boarded the doors and windows, forgot about it and left it all to rot and waste away, only the rumours lingered.
But there defeneatly was something. Mickey could feel it in his backbone and he was sure, it wasnt going to let him find that staircase and the way to the attic.

Mickey had to tell the bad news to Goofy, that was trying to convince himself that the boy was only lost in woods or had gone with the bigger boys and had lost himself to the backstreets of Duckburg. Mickey saw the desperation glowing in Goofys dark eyes and could not help himself.
"He will turn up, one way or the other, I will find him."
Mickey didnt want to tell Goofy that the boy was surely in that theater, that the children had told the thruth. The other grownups wouldnt believe. But Mickey.. he had been there, felt the place out. Mickey also knew, that he could not regard himself as a good friend unless he did everything in his power to bring Goofys son back home, even his corpse.

Mickey knew he would need help with this, that he was facing something supernatural, that the help would need to be the same supernatural origin.
When he was searching for knowledge he came upon some stories about a witchwoman, and old lady who lived in a forest between Duckburg and Goosetown. She lived in a cabin that was at a lakeshore.
Mickey got a ride from a nice guy who was delivering groceries to Goosetown. Alltho Mickey didnt know where exactly the witchwoman lived, he counted on his good luck.

Approximately halfway the road Mickey saw it. Something was glimmering through the trees and bushes in the middays sunshine, and he glimpsed a vague image of a narrow path just behind the bushes and smaller trees. Mickeys gutfeeling told him that it was what he was searching for. He thanked the driver and got out of the car. He went back the road and searched until he found the path.
The path snaked through the forest, leading him to the lake. An old, white haired lady was standing on the shore, next to a sittingswing. The lady was smiling invitingly.
"You must be Mickey Mouse, and you want something from me."
Mickey was speechless. The lady seemed harmless and Mickey sat to the swing, beconed by the woman.

Mickey was just about to start his incredible story when three middleaged women came from the forest to the lakeshore. They were talking happily, laughing and being silly and they gave large amounts of money to the old lady who took the bills, smiling approvingly.
"Are you here for the witch 101- course too?" The three ladies asked Mickey.
Mickey felt his heart sink to his stomach. The old witchwoman was hoax. This whole thing was utterly useless and ridicilous. Mickey wasnt going to get the help he needed. For some unknown reason he just nodded grumbily and stayed for the lesson. It was a whole lot of superstition and a whole lot of rubbish and he only paid attention halfheartedly. After the lesson the old witchwoman came to Mickey.
"Choose one rock of all these. And make an amulet of this for yourself. Every student needs to have an amulet." The woman was handing him a black bag full of different kind of rocks and an old, silver pocketwatch.

Mickey drew a deep breath and chose a palm-sized, black and slim rock and hung the pocketwatch to a measuring tape he found from his pocket and put the pocketwatch with that around his neck. The old witchwoman smiled approvingly and the three ladies clapped exitedly. Mickey was pissed.
At last the lesson was over and the three ladies went on their way back to Goosetown. Mickey turned to leave but he helf turned back to take a final look of the old woman. He saw her opening a calendarbook and scribing something in there. On this day, which was wednesday, the woman wrote MICKEY MOUSE with big, black letters, drew a black line through thursday to friday and drew a upside down cross there.

Mickey could feel his heart sinking even lower this time. He understood it right then. The old woman wasnt a hoax, he understood the meaning of the cross.
On friday Mickey Mouse would die.
The witch looked up to him, grave look on her wrinkled face, sad look in her eyes.
"You are going in to meet your opponent, arent you?" The witch asked him.
Tears were running down Mickeys face when he turned to leave.
"I have no choise."
The witch shook her head, not saying another thing and closed her book.

Mickey lifted back to Duckburg, squeezing the black stone in his hand. He had to believe it had some meaning, it all.

It was thursday evening when Mickey got back home. There was no sign of Goofys son still and Goofy himself was a wreck. His son was all he had left, with his mother dying to childbirth and all.
Mickey watched his sleeping son, with a aching heart. He had made a promise and he was going to keep it, even at the prospect of making his son loose a father.
Mickey grabbed Minnies hand at the door and told her not to follow him. That she should just wait for him to come back to her.
He closed the door and started at the theater.

The whole theater was dark when Mickey got there. The evil in there, the malicious presence had changed, now it was more present and alive. The whole place seemed to wake to a unholy life, breathing and moving in the shadows. Mickey was terrified, but the memory of Goofys face, tearstreaked and stressed was enough to push him on.
He was going to find that staircase, he was going to find Goofys son.
He lost all track of time in there, but he finally found it. The stairs rose steep to the darkness that loomed up ahead. Just at the last second he remembered the two broken stairs, escaping a fall into the unknown dark in the nick of time. He stopped to catch his breath, heart pounding in his chest. The walls seemed to tremble lightly, warning him not to proceed. He could almost hear a windlike voice, barely reminding a laughter travelling through the space.
Mickey climbed the stairs stubbornly.

Mickey crawled to the small room under the collapsed doorway. The pressure in the air was a horrible weight on Mickey, but he knew he could not give in. He had to solve this. At least Goofys son wasnt in this room.
Mickey glanced at the old painting suspectingly. The eyeholes seemed to stare at him looking almost hostile as he got closer to it.
Mickey took a peek through to the dressing room.

The room was in perfect disarray. It looked like there was a hard wind blowing through the room. The real-sized marionette doll was spinning in its strings wildly, its terrible eyes staring at Mickey helplessly. The dolls mouth was moving slowly, altho it was moving so fast, singing the same melancholic song.
Mickey was squeezing the stone in his hand in terror and a booming, nearly demonic voice rang through the theater, hurting Mickeys ears.
The marionette stopped its spinning, but its head kept on going round and round, squeaking rustedly. Marionettes mouth was now wide open and a narrow, barely heareable screaming rose from its maw. The milky glasseyes wept streams of blood down the wooden, worn face.

Suddenly Mickey felt something icecolf grabbing his legs, pulling him down to the floor, through it, down to a gap that travelled throught the buildings walls, down down down, he fell, unable to slow down, the horrible noise ringing in his ears.
Finally he fell to a musty, old basement. The disgusting smell seeped even through his hand and made him gag. It was heavy and heedy. He could see the shape of Goofys son in the corner of the room and he stumbled to him. The boy was alive, but unconsious.
Miskey took a glance around the small space. There was no other way out than the black hole in the low ceiling.
The room was filled with filth, dust and mounds of old clothes. At first he didnt see it, but then he saw the gaping hole that had been dug through the cementfloor. At the base of the pit was scattered with human bones and rags and one skull.
The whole room vibrated with a low growl that rose from the skull.

At first Mickey thought that the voice came from the skull. He creeped closer to the skull, fear pounding in his head, his hand squeezing the black rock as hard as he could. He grabbed the skull and pulled hard.
It rose amazingly light, and Mickey fell on his back.
The terrible smell lashed him and Mickey wretched. The skull revealed a narrow, just handsized hole under it that went into a darkness that oozed such a mindblowing, disgusting evil that you could feel the pressure in every cell.
Some distressed figment of Mickeys intuition told him to put the stone into the hole. As soon as the thought passed through his head, a voice rose from the hole, curses, threaths, pure, verbal evil in work.
The hole pushed out also a pressure, first sucking the air in, then pushing it up and out, trying to keep everything out of its way. Mickey grasped the first things possible, bones and rags and started to grind them to the hole with violence. The urgency in that panicstricken moment had no real room for fear he probably should have felt.
He was fighting the energy from the hole, pushing stuff down the hole, trying to get the stone inside as well. The voice grew suddenly even louder, and black pus started to ooze through the hole, stinking so vile and unimaginably grose Mickey wanted to scream. Black pus sloshed with hostility from the edges, staining his hands.
With some luck Mickey managed to grind the stone to the hole.

The stone fell into the abyss and the whole building shifted. And began to shake. Mickey ran for Goofys son, grabbing him and throwing him over his shoulder and he begun to climp up the hole in the ceiling, fighting his way up to the attic with the dead weight of the kid with him. The whole theater was shaking and trembling wildly and the demonic sound was screaming out in pain. Mickey could smell the smoke in the air and he knew that there was a fire somewhere in the building.
He barely made his way with all the shaking going on and managed to push through the trapdoor at the floor of the atticroom.
Flames were licking the walls in the attic and the whole building creeked and howled in agony. Mickey knew there was something terrible going to happen and soon.

He barely managed to push the boy and himself through the collapsed doorway into the frontroom and was utterly confused to see Minnie there. She was crying and howling and Mickey recodnised that sound. It was the same sound he had heard when the marionette had been screaming. That had been Minnie all along. The reason why Minnie had followed was a total mystery and just as indifferent to him. He had to get Minnie and the boy to safety.
Minnie was pointing at the window in distress.

Mickey lunged to the window and was shocked to see the whole theater building was shaking itself from its bases, rising to air. Flames were licking the outer walls of the building now too. He could see Donald, Daisy, Goofy and all the others down at the street, hollering and waving to the neighbours to bring covers and sheets. Mickey understood what they were trying to do.

Mickey started to rip the board off the windowsils, ignoring the sharp nails that tore his hands open. He broke the glass off the window with a plank, making it safe to pass through. The whole building was high in the air already. Donald and gang were streatching a large cover between them down in the street. Gyro was signing them to jump. Mickey threw Goofys son first, and the boy fell like a stone through the air, landing safely on the cover. Minnie didnt want to jump but Mickey didnt take no for an answer, he half pushed her through the window and Minnie fell flailing wildly and screaming as she went.. she fell.. fell... fell... and the others catched her.

Mickey took a breath and breathed it out. He had done what he had promised. The whole building started to rattle and flail around madly, and Mickey could hear the demonic sound screaming that it was going to take him with him to its doom, as the last evil act, as the last sacrifice.
Mickey glanced down.
The theater had moved further, away from the street, to an unknown destination. The figures of his friends had grown small, he could barely hear them. Mickey didnt want to die with the evil of the theater. He also knew the fall would kill him. Mickey looked to the horizon. The sun was rising up. It was friday already.
Mickey jumped.

...

At the same moment as Mickey jumped, the whole building started to crackle and shake, absorbing into itself, into a dimensional portal, where Mickey had pushed the stone in. The whole huge, burning building vanished into itself with loud creeking and bursting. If Mickey would have doubted even a second it would have taken him to its demise.

...

It would be a perfect ending for a story. But it wasnt.
Mickey jumped and landed to a mound of packing boxes behind a warehouse, and survived. He got away with the fall with some broken bones, dislocated shoulder, the cuts in his hands and a concussion.
When Mickey woke at the hospital he asked for his amulet, the old pocketwatch. The watch had stopped to the exact moment that friday morning when Mickey had jumped. The amulet had worked, Mickey was living on a barrowed time.

It would be nice to hear that everything was fine after that. That the characters in the story lived happily ever after, but that wasnt the case at all. Mickey got a second chance, life on barrowed time but the price was high.
The black pus that had oozed through the hole had seeped into Mickey, corrupting him. Mickey became a dark person, depressed and an alcoholic, even violent. Mickey knew, that what he'd done was heroic, but he still lived his life unhappy and tormented. He tried his best as a father and a husband, but Minnie suffered just as well. Seeing a man he loved suffer so was a unbearable pain, as it was for their son also.

It would have been nice, if Goofys son would have gotten away with the events. But as it was, he was scarred with the traumatic events also. He became a troubled teen, hard to handle, if not impossible. The sorrow he cause for his father was hard. He drinked and brawled, caused trouble in everywhere he went.

Would they have survived with less pain if the evil in the theater would have been able to keep Goofys son as the last sacrifice? Goofy would have suffered, but time would have healed his wounds, and same would have gone for the others. Now the friends had to live with the consiquences of Mickeys actions. The promise that in the end included so many people in it. And the witchlady?
Oh she knew the price of the possibility she made possible. Why wouldnt she had? She did ask Mickey, if he was going to fight. Mickey had the freedom to choose. Even as he didnt know the true cost of his decisions.

Nocturnal Behaviour part 47; Price of the Barrowed Time - part 1

All the characters in the dream are Disney characters.

They lived in town very much like Kokkola, with a disney twist. None the less, the towns name was Duckburg. All the friends for life lived on the same street, at the outskirts of the town.
Most of them lived at a large apartmentbuilding, built with red bricks. Next to that were the two buildings noted usually as the shame of the street. An old apartmentbuilding that had been sentenced to demolition by the court, but which had just stayed there, wasting away slowly. And right next to that house was a huge, cranky old theaterbuilding. Both buildings should have been torn down but the town had kinda forgotten them, and in a way the two, ramshackled buildings were a part of the streets atmosphere.
Goofys, Mickeys, Clarabelles, Donalds, Gladstone Ganders and Gyro Gearlooses children were good friends with each others, like their parents before them. They played on the streets, the nearby forests and in the schoolyards like any other children do.
Once Goofys son heard the bigger boys talking about something intriguing on their own street. The boys were talking about a haunted house, the old theater. The children gathered around, listening closely to the story, how you had to find the right way, through the old apartmenthouse, to the theater, and from there you had to find the staircase that lead to the attic. Two of the stairs were in a bad shape, rotten away by time and mold, and one should be aware of them.
When you finally got to the attic you had to crawl through a crumbled doorway, to a room at the end of the attic. And in that room, you had a view to the old dressing room, where the ghost haunted.

Goofys son was the oldest of the bunch. He said he wanted to do it, to go there and see that ghost. The bigger boys just laughed and went on their way. But the friends.. they sat down to talk and device a plan. They would have the guts to go there, they would surely find that way, if there was a way to find.
They would gather tomorrow, after the school on the play yard and start looking.

The children looked at the old, sadly ramshackled apartment building in the middays sunshine. Its whole yard had grown wild with bushes and grass and wines, and they half covered the once white picket fence. The paint had long faded and peeled in the unforgiving sunlight, leaving the deformed planks grey and colorless. All the windows were half boarded, and you could see the glasses had shattered behind the boards.
The journey begun at the large hole in the fence, leading the children to the one window you could climb into the house safely. The apartment building had once hostet several apartments, and was now devastated and hopelessly empty. The band of friends had to search for some time to find the way, with so much room to cover. There were some discarded, broken furniture and old, almost unrecodnizeable items lying around the rooms, forgotten and left behind by the people that had once lived there.

It was Donalds twins that found the narrow door that lead to the theater, in a old dressing room, in one apartment. The children sneaked in, tension building in. They had found the way! Would the story of the ghost be true too? Suppose no one really thought about it thoroughly, because they all wanted to find the attic.
The old theater was a huge place. And even more badly devastated as the apartmentbuilding. The big rooms were filled with almost unregodnizeable mounts of old seats, benches, tables, old stagegears, props, dust, fabrics and cobwebs that hang from the cringing ceiling boards and almost broken off lamps. There were stacks of old handbills and stageplay backupcopies and old manuscripts of the plays.
The shadows were already running long when the children found a safe way to the staircase that lead to the attic. No one really noticed, the adrenaline was rushing in their ears, whispering of adventures. Two of the stairs had to be skipped, they could see them clearly, as the boards had wasted away, revealing darknes under the staircase.

The atticfloor was mainly a huge frontspace, the end of the wall had several halfly boarded up windows, the glass stained with dust. The children sneaked a look through down to the street, that seemed to be a world away from this dreamlike, odd place.
Mickeys son noticed it first.
"Look, the sun is setting already."
They all froze, fear beginning to brew. Felt like the whole building would have woken to a malicious life. Everyone could feel the hair in their necks standing up. There was something. A presence. Like someone was watching them. Shadows in the corners grew darker, the old stuff seemed to creep a little closer. Walls were creaking and the roof was banging in the wind. A whispering, lingering sounds seemed to float throught the space.
"Lets get out of here. The boys told that no one was supposed to go here at dark." They all were afraid, even Goofys son. But he was the oldest, the biggest, and he surely wouldnt be called a chicken.
"We came this far. IM going to go to that room, IM going to see if there is a ghost there."
The confidence of the biggest spread through the others too and they all agreed to go. They found the partly collapsed doorway at the back of the space, and one by one the children crawled through it to the next room. The room was small and threathningly empty, it had no windows, the only thing in there was a old painting, hanging from a wall. The painting portraited a figure, that had its eyes torn into peeping holes.

Goofys son beconed the others closer, looming closer to the holes, pushing his face to the painting, taking a look, being more brave than he actually felt.

The room was an old dressing room. Clearly the same room the boys had told about. There was a mirrortable, with all kinds of jars and bottles, covered in dust. On the stool was a pile of discarded clothes, dusty and half eaten away by time and moths. On the old cuppoard were several wigs, resting on faceless dummyheads. Old outfits from long forgotten shows were resting on broken and cobwebbed mannequins around the room. The threath in the air seemed to grow heavier.
On a broken bed were many old dolls, some sitting, some lying around, made of all kinds of materials, expressionless button eyes staring into emptiness.
There was also a realsized marionette doll hanging from its strings from a roof bar.
It was a girldoll, with a faded and ragged, once blue balletdress on. Beautiful, blond hair had been curled to big waves around the head. The wooden face had perhaps once been shiny and polished, now they were faded and somehow lost all expression. The glasseyes in the eyesockets had once been lovely blue, now they were milky and terrible to see, peering blindly into the room, surrounded by dusty lashes.

Goofys son felt the fear gripping his heart, rounding his chest. The marionette was pretty, but still terrible. He wasnt even able to gasp when the marionette started to slowly dance, dangling from the strings. Its jointed chin started to fall and rise slowly, as the marionette started to sing and old, melancholic loveballad from an long forgotten play. Slowly the marionette twisted and turned, its limbs moving in their joints silently, the ragged dress moving ghostlike in the air in the midsts of the movements. The others could hear the song too.
It told a story of a young girls love, of a man who died tragic death, of the girl, dying of a broken heart.
Slowly the children realised the sorrowfull song wasnt the only sound they were hearing in the attic.
Inbetween the words there was a low murmur, whispering of a hatefull voice, curses and threaths of murders and torture, sick rites and sacrificial deaths. As the children begun to understand the terrible words, the voice seemed to grow louder.

Panic stuck like a lightning. Donalds twins were the first to reach the collapsed doorway, screaming as they went. The voice had grown, booming like a terrible growl, filling space and mind alike. The walls were trembling, the air weighed a ton. Mickeys son reached the doorway before Goofys son, who had half frozen, looking the marionette from the peeping holes. As Goofys son finally turned, the whole attic shook and he fell on the floor. Mickeys son streached his arm through the doorway, realising it was moving towards the floor unnaturally slow, closing the way out of the room.
Goofys sons scream was shrill with terror as it came through the floor and pulled him under, and everyone heard it even through all the noice.

The remaining children escaped through the dark theater and apartmentbuilding, filled with horror and panic.

Nocturnal Behaviour part 666 - Dark Forces.

The tainted

In society I belonged to a part that others feared and looked down. We walked the path of the shadows, half demons. Infernal blood had been brought to us in some way, no one ever wanted to talk about it really. We weren’t many in numbers, comparing to normal people and it was very forbidden to show your true, demonic form in formal places. You could even get fines for it.
My mother loved me dearly, but she grieved for me also, never telling me, how I had got the taint in me. I didn’t have a father.
Society encouraged us demonic to socialize with each others, preferably keeping us away from their pure human blood. Breeding with humans was strictly forbidden, not in law actually, but in other ways. No one wanted it.
Even I feared some of the demonics, since most of them were bitter and angry for a lifetime of abuse and bad treatment. Sometimes they were even dangerous. I knew their thoughts, I could sense them even from afar, and rarely those were that nice. Neither were mine, for that matter.

It was fall, and the summer had been dry and everyone was waiting for the rains to start. Crops had gone bad in the heat and there were lots of issues with fires in the nearby woodlands. Those who believed in magic were saw bad things in the future, and I didn’t think anyone was completely blind for those thoughts. There was something bad in the air that told of coming hardships. Like someone that wanted harm, had fixed its eyes upon us all. The thoughts of the demonic and of human were dark. Many of us started to be just indifferent, not caring for the rules that people had put on them. They bared their true forms in the public, like they would’ve been trying to get into trouble.
I saw one flowing in the air, 4 meters from the ground, his wings set open, swimming idly in the small breeze. His eyes were shut, and the expression on his face was relaxed, uncaring. He was naked, his form half covered in violet scales in his otherwise snakelike skin as those shone in the sunlight. I could see the strong muscles moving underneath that skin, while he was moving smoothly, like in water or a dream and his half-hard member was resting against his belly. I hurried away fast, my face red with shame as I read his mind - he was exited of my nearness.
I ran into one other of our own, a speech man of our blood as I was making my way to home. He was a passionate man, always eager, with hard opinions on any matter. He was watching me intently, and I could read his thoughts clear as day.
“We two should mate, you are strong.”
There was nothing romantic in that thought, and his eyes were only calculatingly cold, void of any other feeling than that lust. From that I knew, that if he would really start to pursue me, a mere “no” would not suffice. It would come to drawing blood. I shook my head and started to run, disappearing into the labyrinth of alleys, between the houses that had been built so near each others. I knew he would have come after me, if he wouldn’t have been rushing into a meeting himself.
I stopped, panting, into a dark deepening between two houses, sweaty and trembling. Had the world gone mad in a day? Everyone was so tight, almost ready to burst. The naked, flying demon and the speech man were not the only ones I had seen today. I had also seen a fight between human and demon youngsters on a grocery stores parking lot. And a mother that had been screaming with anger to her children on the yard, for smashing up a cookie jar. A man that almost ran me over with his car, a sadistic glare in his unfriendly eyes. Even more.
I tried to calm myself down, despite my horrible feelings. After a while the cool air and dark shadows of the alley, and its peace brought me down and I started up. As fast as I came up on my feet I realised I wasn’t alone. There was something near me.. something I had never experienced. I turned my gaze to the way I had come and saw something very peculiar. It was a thing, gliding through the air, about 2 meters from the earth. It had a long, flexible body, that swirled in the air like a Chinese dragon. Its tail had a arrow shaped tip that was gleaming in turquoise and blue shades. Its head was slim, also shaped a bit like arrows tip and I couldn’t see any eyes nor a mouth in it. Still it was clearly watching me, as it glided closer.
I was watching it with my mouth ajar. I had never laid my eyes upon something so… interesting. I could sense it was demonic, I felt is as clearly as any other demonic or human, and I felt my skin vibrating as it was scanning me. I knew other demonic could do things like that, even if I couldn’t.
I was only were sensitive to others feelings and thoughts.
The thing arose very comfortable feelings in me; I trusted it so I let it glide in my arms, letting it wrap its body around mine. I hugged it closer, unable to feel anything than good thoughts. Its skin felt divine against mine and there was something sexual in the feeling, though I couldn’t put my finger on it, after all, I was only sixteen years old girl.
It was leaning its strange head against mine, still scanning my thoughts, my mind, my powers and abilities. It felt good and itself vibrated calming and trusting feelings. I couldn’t sense any thoughts of it, only feelings, all so good, so good.
I think I finally fell asleep, changing into my demonic form. I could feel the change thought the warm sleepiness, but I didn’t care. It felt so natural. The long spikes in my arms softened in its grasp and the large, red scales that shaped my skin on its outer side felt soft like leather armour. I could feel my wings pulling together, forming a long cloak on my back and even the long spikes in my rough hair were softening, flexing easily with the rest of the hair. I was so relaxed that not a muscle in me was tense. It felt amazing, because usually when I turned, I felt a lot of pain and I didn’t let it happen that often. The sorrow in my mothers blue eyes was too much for me, if I ever turned when she was watching.
Finally I gave up on my thoughts and fell to the dark abyss of sleep in the grasp of the undulating thing.

I awoke from a place I didn’t recognize. I slided back into being awake slowly, feeling groggy, like I would have been drugged.. which probably had happened. I was somewhere up high, near a top of a small mountain, in a place that seemed like a temple, because I was lying on a marble. There were marble pillars around me that supported a marble roof.
I could barely raise, my skin tingling with waking feeling. I was still in my demonic form, so I moved my tail so I could sit better. My eyes were hurting with the light, although it was shady here.
As I studied the place it had brought me I could see I was on the slope a mountain and near the marble temple was a large mansion, with a forested garden and wild forest starting behind that. I instantly knew where I was. There was only one person living near my hometown, on a slope of a nearby mountain. The man, millionaire, was eccentric. No one had never seen him, he sent only his servants to the town to do his groceries, and other stuff the like.
No one knew anything of him.
Fear brewed inside me, because I knew I had been fooled. The demonic thing I had seen, must have been his servant. That meant he has some connections to the demonic.
I rose, trembling, since my muscles still wanted to sleep and felt weak to use. I couldn’t sense anything near me, not anything living in a sense that a human or demonic would have been. Only stone, earth, trees and plants. But I wasn’t alone. When I stood up a shadow came out from the shadow of the pillars near me. A tall man, who wore a black long caftan, his face hidden in the shadow of the hood. The black of the caftan was cut in two by a wide, golden belt.
I backed up to a pillar, and he was closing on me, silent as a wall. My fear gripped me and I fell down on the floor. There was something really scary in his being, something so crushing, that I couldn’t do anything but just watch. There were colours shooting on the edge of my vision, so horrified I was.
He was standing right in front of me now. A narrow, pale hand slid from the hem of his sleeve that grabbed my chin, turning it upwards. I was sure I was going to pass out. There was something so unusual in his hand.. it was cold as ice, and I noticed his nails were clear like glass, long and sharp. I was sure he was demonic himself.
“I told my servant to find the most powerful creature in the whole town, and it brought you. Just a young girl.” His voice was young, but as cold as his hand. It had a calculating ring to it, that would have nerved a grown man. His hand was turning my face from side to side and my muscles did what they were asked, my gaze fixed on the darkness inside the hood.
I was too terrified to say anything.
Finally he let his grip of my jaw. He pulled his hood back, revealing narrow, pale and unfriendly, yet handsome face. His narrow eyes were bright yellow and red. On his forehead rose two horns which followed the curve of his skull near the dark hair. Small and barely visible scales ran on the edges of his face. He was demonic, though I couldn’t sense it from him, still. I couldn’t sense much of anything from him, and that’s why he was so terrifying. There was a surge of force flowing from him constantly, unlike any other I’d ever felt.
There were no demonic alike, they all had their personal form and personalities and skills, but there were some things that divided us into categories. There were demonic, that were inhumanly strong, usually very aggressive too. There were demonic that read minds and control them. There were demonic that could interfere in others feelings as easily as a child plays. There were demonic that were fast and flexible and cunning. There were demonic who could manipulate things without even touching them. And then there were demonic who used magic and witchcraft. They were not large in number, and were usually dangerous, because of their hunger in old forces, constantly looking for power forgotten to many. It was clear he was the latter.
Something old and eternal was in his whole being, although of his apparent youth. But all demonic didn’t age normally. If both parents had infernal blood in them, and the closer the family had it, the more demonic was their offspring, probably longer lifespan too.
I quickly understood I was watching something that was even shushed in the demonic circles. A demonic, breaded with specific intent. Two powerful demonic, other maybe even a pureblood, that set out to produce as strong offspring as they could.
He read everything from my eyes, as these things dawned on me and the smile on his face was something I would have wanted not to see. His eyes were gleaming dangerously as the narrow, crooked smile rose on his face, revealing all the small scales on his skin. Sharp teeth shone in the dark.
“So, you are not completely witless, despite your youth. Maybe there is some use for you. Come!”
His order was so forceful that my body no other choice than to follow it. I was able to push one word past my lips, “no!” It was a pitiful squeak, but he turned, one scale ornamented brow lifting to a high arch on his forehead. His stare was cunning.
“Ah! You are powerful! No one has ever said no to me, not in many centuries. It tells of a great willpower for you to be able to do that. You could even be a perfect mother to my offspring.” Something dangerous crept to his eyes. The mere thought of his cold hands on me brought tears to my eyes and I sunk into despair. And still I followed him.
He was leading me to some kind of a temple, following a lighted path deeper into the woods that surrounded the mansion. The path ended to a circle made of marble, at it resembled a small amphitheatre. It had no roof and there were nine marble pillars in the outskirts of the circle. On the middle of the ring was a low marble table, like an altar.
Ancient horror woke in me as I saw all this and I had to fight the demonics order to follow, to be able to halt. The force of his order was so great, that I had to put every possible remnant of my own power to use. It took every cell of my being to stop, sweat was running on my skin and my whole head was tingling painfully. All the spikes in my arms shoot up from the fight. Finally I managed to stop, I was panting and my legs were trembling.
He halted immediately, turning to my side. Curiosity on his face was mingled with a evil smile and admiring.
“Magnificent..” He was staring at me with his burning eyes, letting me combat against his silent order. He was oozing a tempting feeling, but now that I had my wits back with me, I was fighting against it. “NO!” I said with defiance clear in my voice, hissing between my teeth.
“Indeed .. a powerful creature.”
Now I could sense things from the man, he clearly was letting it happen. Otherwise he was invisible to my senses. I sensed a change in his attitude, the respect he felt, despite his maliciousness. He wouldn’t let me read his thoughts, but the feelings he sent were trained and specific. Very refined.
His whole body relaxed and he stepped closer to me. I pulled back but he would not give up. He was looking at me still, strict, but his voice was soft and calming.
“Shh.. I want no harm to you.. I will show you things .. things that many only dream! Powers, you could not even imagine!” His voice was so tempting, wooing, and I almost fell to a trance and gave up, until I realised what he was doing. He was trying to put a spell on me! He was so strong!
I was trying to fight against it, his hand was now caressing my face, gently, although his skin was so cold. The hard, sharp nails sliding on my skin sent sparks through me and me tingle all over. His sexual aura was closing me in, it was like a scent in the air and I could do nothing more than to breathe it in.
He was just too strong for me to resist.
He had already leaded me to the staircase of the temple, that lead down to that altar. His other hand was caressing still my face, keeping me tight in the trance he put me in through the touch of our skins.. and without me realising his other hand was undressing me as easily as I would’ve been dressed to mere rags of clothes. Probably he was tearing my clothes away with force, but my eyes were fixed in his burning eyes and it made everything around me matter so little.
I was completely in his power and he sat me down on the altar, the marble cool beneath my naked body. My skin was reacting to the coolness in the air, my nipples starting to harden. He was looking at me with hunger in his eyes, seemingly happy with what he was seeing. Some part of my tried to vainly resist, scared, but my senses were filled with him and his power and I could do nothing.
He released his grip of me, leaving me to sit, and I was still under his spell completely.
I didn’t actually see anything, but I could sense him doing things around me and at some point some sense flowed back to me and I could understand the things happening.
He had lighted more torches around the temple and it was glowing in the flickering light of the flames. From somewhere he had taken an ancient looking bottle, and a wineglass made of crystal.
He had taken his robe down, and his naked, partly scaled skin was shining in the light. His wings were huge, the skin between the bones so thin that I could see the forest behind him like a smoky vision through them. His muscles were lean and long, his shoulders covered in scaled armour, like the middle of his back where spiky scales rose to protect the spine. From his braces to elbows ran also scaly armour, with spikes on them. His legs were cowered in soft-looking dark fur and his erect member was rising over his stomach proudly. I noticed I was panting as I watched him and my shame could have not been greater. The cold smile on his face made me blush crimson.
I wasn’t able to move on my own, every muscle in my body was waiting an order from that terrible, magnificent creature.
He poured red liquid from the ancient bottle to the crystal glass, and it looked like some kind of wine to me. He didn’t drink it, but brought it to me. Something moved inside me, an ancient feeling. It wasn’t fear, but some kind of arousal.
His hand slid under my head, in my neck and he twisted gently my head backwards and my eyes half closed of the pleasure of that touch. I could feel him pouring the liquid in my mouth, from where it rushed to my throat, over my jaw to my neck, from there to my chest and over my breasts, on my belly, down towards my crutch, on my thighs. I was completely soaked by that red liquid and the feeling was amazing, ecstatic! It was flowing in my mouth, in my insides, making me burning and trembling. I could feel the demonic kissing my wine stained lips from somewhere of my emotional ecstasy and the pleasure the cold lips against my own burning lips was so pleasurable it felt great. His hands were travelling over my body, touching my scales, my spikes, my hair and my wings. Every caressing touch only heightened my heath and want, and I realised that was supposed to happen. I had to be ready, for what, I had no clue.
I could feel him kissing my face, my neck and breasts, his long tongue licking up the wine from my breasts. I was moaning out loud and I could hear his cold, deep laughter. His hands were sliding toward my thighs, pulling them apart intently. His sharp nails were scratching me, but I didn’t care at all. His touch was now making me shake in pleasure, so full was my ecstatic state. He was also moaning out clearly aroused, and I was trembling on the altar, as my head was trashing from side to side. I could hear him shouting in ancient tongue, he was uttering a spell with those weird words, and somewhere inside my fear raised its head again.
But my body was shaking in the tides of a orgasm, and I could not resist any of it. I was completely hapless.
In a haze I realised that in the every pillar was a carved shell inside them, with a small, absurd looking statue in them. They were made out of some kind of bone and they looked like old gods long forgotten.
The demonic that was still touching me, making me come over and over was now screaming the words with maddening force, he was panting and he sounded ecstatic and thrilled. In the midst of my pleasure I noticed something strange was happening to the statues.. they were vibrating, releasing ancient energy, so old it felt alien. The energy shoot up off them into a man shaped beings in front of the pillars. They shone through somewhat, looking like pale, bluish ghosts.
Terror and pleasure mixed in me.
The demonic over me laughed out loud, victory in his voice, calling the ghosts to come near, calling them to come and drink, to feel and have their pleasure. Those ghostlike things started to move and I wanted to scream.
They were gliding and crawling and squirming and flying closer to me, everyone on their own personal way, smirking and laughing and crying out with deep, hollowed voices.
“Come.. come closer! She is soon ready!” The demonic shouted and I felt his body pressing against me, the big member between us pulsating.
Finally the ghostlike beings were around us, surrounding us, demanding expressions on their terrible faces.
The demonic man raised my legs in the air, pushing them painfully far apart and with his ice cold touch burning me, he pushed his member inside me, tearing me almost apart. I was screaming out loud and those terrible old Gods ghosts pushed their hands on my skin, through it somewhere inside me. They wanted a part of the human feelings I was feeling, a part of something alive, something they had lost a long time ago. They wanted to taste the wine in me and they were running through me and it pained me so I thought I would die. The pain was excruciating. I screamed, yelled and cried but they would not move away from me until they had had their share of the sacrifice they had been given. It was something the demonic had promised them in exchange of their secrets, of the powers they wielded a long time ago. It was, what the demonic craved for, and for what he would do anything to get it. This all I understood, in the midst of the horror I had to live through.
I thought my heart was going to be ripped out when a malicious god sunk his hands inside my chest, not caring how it felt to me, I thought I would go mad, when a insane god sunk his hands inside my head, I thought my hands would be ripped from their sockets, when some other god sunk his hands into mine, pulling them. I thought I was going to faint to pleasure when some old god of sexuality and lust kept rubbing my sensitive parts all the while when the demonic was pounding his huge shaft into me mercilessly.
And all that time I was still kept painfully awake, aware of every ache and unbearable feeling of pain mixed with pleasure. Those feelings, pain and pleasure were changing with such mindless ways that I was pleading for mercy, pleading for more and screaming mindlessly. It felt it went on forever.
Finally there was only the panting demonic on me and the cool marble altar beneath me and a unsteady calmness in the temple. My voice was hoarse, my breath travelling in pained moans and sighs. Tears were running down my face, and my limbs lay pained on my side. My whole body was aching but it was a much more human pain, something I could handle.
The demonic rose, watching me with satisfaction, admiring.
“Every other one died. You are strong.”
I could feel my heart sink with a cold feeling.

Then I woke.
Christ!

Don't say anything that will make it worse

There is usually a strangeness present in my dreams. No matter how normal they would first seem, but agues it just comes with the territory more or less. I was going to write about a dream I saw last night, but then realized it had washed away from my head during the tasks of the day. Buggers.

So I might write about another dream I saw once, not that long ago. It stuck to my brain like a fever, that dream. It was one of those very vivid ones, that had qualities similar to real life. Tastes, odours, the very feeling of objects and things.
In this dream I was made a vampire (uu what a surprise there!) but I didn't know who was the one who had done it to me, nor was I yet a full vampire. I had a protecttor of sorts though, a strange and ancient being I only called The Celt, since he obviously had been a celt before being turned. He was a dark and tall man, silent and strong type. And he had very preculiar eyes. I couldn't describe how, they just were.

So the dream begun as I realized my son had been taken by some other vampires and Celt offered his help in finding him. I was worried to death, not knowng why he was taken. He took me with him and we flew through the frisky cold autumn night, from the city towards the countryside, looking for something suspicious. He held my hand tight and I remember how the nightly breeze felt on my skin, and how the speed tossed my hair and clothes.

We came to a valley, that had several farms and countryhouses in it and slowed a bit down our speed. The Celt tugged my hand and asked me to look about the valley. I didn't know what he wanted me to see but I tried. Then he asked me to look with my other eyes, as if I was looking past things. Behind the usual. I did as I was asked to do and suddenly noticed that one of the houses was not onefloor building as it first had appeared to be. On the edge of my sight I could make out several more floors. I pointed the house out to him and he nodded, pleased to my success. He took the flight down and as we approached the house we saw a group of vampires coming out, heading towards the city. We waited a bit as they passed the road underneath us and Celt flew us behind a small backyard shed. We had only stood there for few seconds, as he halted me and pushed me to the ground. "Sst, someone is coming back." He said and signed me to stay quiet.
I laid on the ground and could smell very vividly the dead and wet leafes under me and the cold they sent through my body. I heard footsteps coming to us and in that moment a big spider crawled across my face and I made a small screaming noice, without my wanting so.
"Who's there?!" A angry and growling low voice shouted near us. The Celt didn't say anything but the other one seemed to have a clear idea where we were and came towards.
"What are you doing here?" The other asked from Celt as he saw him standing over me. He knew him, but at that point I didn't make much of it. I was too concerned of my own faith.
"I walk where I wish, young one." The Celt said with a steady and silent voice.
"Is that a HUMAN? I can smell her!" The young vampire almost lauched at me, but he was cut short as The Celt pushed his arm forward, stopping just a millimeter from the others chest. "You will not touch her, nor will anyone of your clan. She is under my protection." Their voices had brought the others back too, and I saw their glowing eyes in the dark as they muttered sourly to his claim.
"Take us in. I wish to speak with your Elder."
The young vampire regarded him with a snort but gave way to us and led us up to the house. The Celt had taken my hand again, pulling me gently from the ground. I was only shaking and gawked around me as the other vampires peered at me with hungry eyes.
We were lead inside the house and when the door behind us closed I had a very real image in my head that it was my coffin closing around me. I could feel the vampireblood burning inside stronger than ever, starting to revert my humanblood into something else. The Celt just held me as I started to shake and rattle and as we walked up the strais that weren't supposed to be there but were I experienced an unreal and mindshattering momentum. I saw the outside with my humaneyes that told me I was in nothing, since the magics they had casted to protect their lair still worked for my human side and then again I could see the almost transparent stairs under my moving feet and the walls that shone the outside world through a bit. I felt dizzy like in great heights and almost fell to my knees. Luckily Celt was holding me steadily and didn't lett go.

When we got to the floor that had been made into a big area, filled with tables, cosy couches and chairs, I dropped to the floor, shaking so hard I just couldn't get up. I laid there wounderable and bare, seeing things, fever eatinn away in me. The Celt left me there and sat tight to a corner near me. There was something reassuaring in his eyes and I stayed on the floor shivering. I could see the room had a big fireplace with a roaring fire in it, there were beautifull carpets placed across the wooden floor and artwork in every place I could turn my eyes to. The areas with seats in them had vampires in them too. All of them watched me with an intensity of a hunting cat and few laughed out at my terror and pain. Cause those feelings were now upon me like a fire. I felt the horrific burning in my veins and a crushing sensation in my chest. Something was clawing my flesh, so it felt and there was a lightning kind of a pain inside my head. I was twisting in the floor and so caught up in my own death, that the happenings almost slipped by me totally unnoticed.

Admist my death I saw hazy visions of a beautifull and fearfull woman coming down the stairs from some other floor and she walked so soothly, she could have been moving on ice. She closed in on me, barely noticing me, her frightfull eyes fixed on my protector, The Celt. He rose and went to meet her across the hall and they spoke with silenced voices for a while. Then he came back to his corner and sat down. I was very disoriented and confused about everything and just wathed through my torture as the woman now approached me. She was tall and lean, she had dark hair, staight and long. I t flowed upon her and down her shoulders and back like silk. Her face was thin and bared the elements of a highborn lady. But her eyes were as strange as my friends, though different. Her eyes were like a cats or fox's eyes. Yellow orange and they had black thin pupils in them. It looked vicious.

She leaned over me and said with a voice that was ancient and honeylike, "I can make this easier for you child.. If you are willing to get over your death sooner." Her voice poured and crawled over me, filling my pain with a silky edge that made all feel almost even more painfull. As she spoke, she unbuttoned her black blouse and bared her pearly white skin and small breasts. Her pale nipples were hard and she sliced a long blood-dripping wound across her neck down to her right breast that soon was stained with the flowing carmine blood. It seemed to flow and glow in colours I had never seen before.
I turned my gaze to the Celt, a question in my stare. I heard his voice only in my head, as clear as in reality. "This is your own judgement call, my friend, and I will not advice you in any way. You must do as you shall do."
I turned again to the Foxeyed Lady. Maybe a few seconds passed, and I even didn't think of anything. I just lett my nature do it's way as it woke in me. Suddenly I was on her, tearing the flesh of her neck with my still human teeth, ignoring the fresh wound she herself had done for me. She tried to struggle me off but couldn't, as I pinned her down to the ground and went on, pushing her arms away as easily as she would have been a mere babe. Somewhere in the back of my mind I heard her screaming and the others shouting and could sense the fight taking place around me like a hurricane. But I was caught in the eye of it, and could not turn myself away from the blood that poured from her to my fiercely sucking mouth. It was like drinking a nectar of gods or even something better. I just concentraded to exploring the things it roused in me as it rushed inside me.
I still sensed the battle around. The Celt was holding the other vampires from their Sire I was mutilating and draining, and one by one they fell, as they were not a match for The Celt. Not even the oldest and the strongest. Soon the whole room was a bloody gore all around and I was ripped violently against my will off the woman.
"Do not go down with her." The Celt held me as I tried to get back to my feeding for few moments. He held me tightly untill I was calm and then I noticed the horror in the room. All dead, all drained from blood that had stained everything in the room. I watched the woman I had killed. Her now small-looking body was in a uncomfortable position on the floor, shrinked and almost sorrowfull. I could smell the iron smell of blood in the hall but it did not terrify me. I felt no feeling that could have been registered as fear or appaul. Sudden knowledge burst through me like a strike of lightning. I turned in Celts arms to see his preculiour eyes and asked, "Was I a part of some old Vendetta here today?" There were several great realizations running through my mind.
"Would it matter to you, if I told you, you were?" He asked with a coy voice.
"No it would not." I said, even to my own surprise, in some corner of my mind.
"Then yes, you were. But as I see your thoughts in your eyes, you are aware that this was no ordinary thing that happened just now."
And it surely wasn't. The thought had came to my mind seconds earlier. I realized I had turned, born to darkness just moments ago, and it should have been impossible for me to take down a Elder vampire like that. It was strange, even macabre. But I had done it, without a question, and all on my own, that I saw from his eyes. I saw too that he had not planned this to go this way, he had not planned at all, but just trusted the right things to occur. He had seen something in me, that no else had seen.
We left the buildign shortly after, leaving it filled with carcasses and the magic had broken, and the house now was the 4 storied house it had been all along. We took flight once more through the dark marine sky and flew back to our safe haven to the city, where he took me in his arms and whre we made love the rest of the night and the next day.
(For the record - it was mindblowing! - ha ha)

Yes. And don't even ask where the disappearance of my son well, disappeared from the dream. It just did.