Therapeutic Nightmare

It was moving closer, I felt it in the ground. It tears in his presence, revealing bones of the old and forgotten treasures.  His children were watching as I ran through the woods, shining orbs of obelisk observing every labored breath I got. Didn’t know why I ran. He would catch me but my body refused to stop, neither river or cliff worked. Nightmares got me into this, why should they not end it.

I was ill said the shrink, stress from work and the crowded city were the cause for my lack of sleep. That did not explain the cold sweats and something moving out the corner of my eye but I did not want him to think I was that crazy. I had nightmares, none that I could remember but they were frightening enough to take root. He took the liberty to use my vacation days and sent me out to a derelict house ten miles from the nearest hamlet. No one complained about me leaving, I did cause a coworker to get hospitalized so I guess I can’t be surprised. A cab would bring me to the house. No car of my own, I was not allowed to leave until I got better. The trip there was calming. No wonder people talk about the beauty of the countryside. Maple forests, clearings filled with white flowers, calm streams. Heaven for a painter.

The hamlet was idyllic. They sustained on themselves and the odd tourist. Every face I met beamed with a joy I hoped I could get back. The one odd thing was their relationship with ravens. Every store referenced these birds in some way, either in name, symbol or merchandise. The children would have feathers tucked behind their ears and the adults sown into their clothes. I did not think much of it then.

The house was another story. It was old, two centuries old. Some of the windows were broken and the, would be, cracks in the wall was filled with dirt from four generations. Still someone had to maintain it, else I would have looked at nothing but a pile of rubble. The insides were not much better. Rats had been here before me, I hoped they left me something to eat. The driver left before I had the chance to enter, he liked it even less than I did. But in his absence I saw something on the ground, an amulet. It was it had three yellow bones forming a triangle with a white stone in the center. On the other side was a skull of a bird holding the stone in its beak. I pocketed it and used my remaining hours of sun exploring the area.

Everything I now run past I saw that day. The cliffside leading down into a beach, the forest full of life, the rock formation and the meadow. People used to live there. Foundations and stone walls littered the place. It was hard to tell when they lived here, nature had clearly won. The one structure that remained was a well. It was deep, deeper than anything I had seen before. It continued down further into the earth, no light daring to reach the bottom. I got curious and threw the talisman I took in there. I heard nothing. It never hit the water or shattered at the dried bottom. I stood there waiting for something, anything, to happen. Dusk slowly crept on the horizon and I reluctantly retired to my home.

That night was different, I started to remember my nightmares. I did not fall, drown or got chased. I sat in the house’s living room, watching out the broken window. It was a dark night but someone stood in it. Even without eyes I knew it watched me. Then I was woken up by the sun. I tried to start a routine, I would stay here for a while, but I got dragged back to the memory. I caught myself watching out the window several times that day, waiting for him to come back. I had the same dream the next night. He was closer this time, still a blotch of darkness in an already dark night. That day I walked outside were he stood. The ground had been teared up, showing memories of a time before I was born. A blade and a dark feather had been unearthed.

The nights never got better. Sometimes I would feel hands inside me, prodding and grabbing whatever they could find. Other times I had to relive moments of the past. One time he wrote me a message. I had used the blade to open wounds, one on myself and others things around the house. The feather then used the ink everything spewed to write. I understood none of it but I knew it’s meaning. He told his name and said he would come.

The days were no longer a respite from the madness. I could hear his whispers every waking moment and his children watched in the cracks of the house. No matter where I went he knew. No matter what I taught he could hear. No matter when I woke he was there, just out of sight. He would catch me if I ran.

This night I had the nightmare again. He was outside the window, blocking the faint light of the moon. He started to squeeze through the frame, forcing himself into the small house. I continued to stare forward, trough him, hoping to never have to witness my nightmare manifested head on. I watched the shade try to take form. A wailing could he heard as he shifted his form, never settling on one cohesive flesh. Then I felt the wind on me. It was always still in my nightmares. No wind, no breathing, no feeling on the outside only the hands inside. At the realization my body jolted up and ran into the night disregarding everything my mind said.

I had no clue how long I had run. No matter how fast I run I still felt his presence. At last I reached the meadow, here I was free from their prying eyes. I could just run straight ahead, no inclines, no cliffs. Just straight forward… into a loose rock. Everything hurt and I couldn’t move my legs, they seemed to have finally given up. I heard the ground tear as he approached. I could hear him clearly. He asked me to sleep. My body gave in to his command and I fell asleep in the meadow

I was surrounded by the earth, imprisoned in it’s darkness. It felt lonely. Time did not exist and I could do nothing, just exist outside everything else. One day, year maybe? I started to feel something removing pieces from myself. It was the creatures that settled above. An intense fear flowed through me. I tried to talk to them but they had taken my tongue. They took my eyes last, I could no longer see and a true black feel over. I trashed about in my cell, hoping to get them of me. After I was done there was silence once more but I still feared for their return. Someone did one day. He entered my cell and I prepared for his wrath. Instead I got a gift, an eye. Not mine and it was imperfect but an eye none the less. My visitor was a human. Those that earlier took and stole, had they finally decided to help? No, no one else was there only him. I wanted to get to know him more. I needed to. My one true follower.

I awoke the next morning in my bed well rested, free from nightmares and memories of them. No creepy monster, no whispers. Just a relaxing silence. I shifted in my bed and felt something hard by my neck. It was the talisman I threw away a couple of days ago, it was missing it’s stone. I held it in my hand, wondering how it had gotten there when the bed suddenly got heavier. I turned to see a monster resting its upper body on the side of the bed. Its head was covered by a dark cloak which flowed down the rest of his body. A white beak jutted out from the top of the cloak. He rested on thin, weak arms which ended in a four-fingered hand. Itrailarch, the lord of ravens, rested on my bed. I must have lost it, I felt no fear or hatred towards the being which had caused my torment. I felt pity and gratitude. A lost soul, in need of something to hold, choose me and made me experience horrors that can never be replicated. Wonder what I taught was scary before I met him. He made a nervous croak and stretched out his hand, searching for something. I took his hand and held it, softly rubbing my thumb against his palm. I leaned in and whispered into his ear that I was here. In an instant he calmed and deepened his slumber. Yeah I am crazy, Stockholm syndrome if I should guess.