Dream (11/12)

An evil had infiltrated the child's dreams. An amorphous cancer, adapting to any form it sees fit. It had seeped into the core of the child's very being, coloring his nightmares. His personality.

This cancer had changed the child into an entirely different person. But one night, things were different. The child was not sitting at the foot of his bed. There was none of that tasty excitement; none of that succulent tension. The boy was fast asleep, and under his covers.

The thing did not know how to react. Nor did it know how to approach the boy. Brightly lit eyes had scared the boy very recently. So the thing took on that aspect. Most of it bore orange eyes, and sharp teeth. Tacky. Pointless.

Excessive.

But they worked.

This child? This sleeping, unaware child? He would pose a challenge. Especially with that stringed up eye. Somehow, the boy believed it would weaken the evil's presence. So it did.

Reaching out, the Nightmare considered the Boy's beliefs. What power they hold! But the Nightmare also believed in his own superiority.

With an empty hand, the Nightmare reached out, and believed the object would crumple in his hands. Which it did.

The Nighmare stood over the bed, waiting for the boy to awaken. There was nothing wrong with a little bedtime snack.