In Dreams

You walk down the center line of a two lane country highway. There are no street lights and no reflectors on the dividing line between the two lanes. The only illumination is a slight bit from a waning moon that gleams through the leafless branches of the trees.

You hear the resounding horn of a cargo truck plowing its way down the road from behind you. In front of you, an SUV or a sports car with extra lights threatens to arrive at your spot just when the truck might. Sweat instantly clings to your body and you keep trying to tell yourself to leap off of the road into the nearest ditch. You are helpless as you are about to witness yourself being horribly disfigured or killed and you have no ability to control your own body. The truck slams on its brakes and the car in front of you has finally noticed you. Just as you think that perhaps you’ll survive, the SUV hits an oil slick or some other debris during its skid across the road.

You see the rear end of the SUV contact the front of the truck, just yards in front of you. Sparks fly as the SUV continues to slide right along the side of the cargo truck. The rear left bumper smacks you into the side of the truck. Rather than feel the impacts of that and then the rear wheel of the SUV running you over, you smell the burnt rubber and hear the gut grinding sounds of all the violent collisions of metal and flesh.

As your body twitches on the pavement, the cars disappear, like they were never there. A man, covered in long, flowing clothes approaches you from the direction you were walking. The man is black, not like a black man, but ebony, like obsidian. A long horn dominates the man’s head. It’s no man at all. It is some kind of twisted, dark unicorn. The unicorn lets out a hissing sound like a snake or a man through tightly closed lips. You glance slightly to the side, the most your head or eyes will move. The dark unicorn carries a great sword that is familiar to you, like the one that Myst has some often wielded. In fact, it looks nearly identical with glowing runes and the unique curve of the blade.

You try to will your lips to utter words of surrender and of questioning, but as before, you are unable to enact your will upon the situation. Your eyes go wide as you watch the twisted unicorn swing the hefty blade and carve the skin of your face from your skull.

Your vision is obscured by the flesh of your face.

Moments later, when your vision is no longer hampered, the view before you has changed. You float, disembodied, staring through a thick fog.

A tunnel through the familiar fog clears and you can see your hand down below your disembodied viewing position. You see a wedding ring on that hand. Your other hand comes into view through the tunnel of clearness. The ‘you’ that you watch starts to twist the wedding ring back and forth as if in some form of nervous contemplation.

One of the hands disappears from view long enough to grab a cell phone and look at some messages. You don’t recognize the phone number in the texts, but you notice clearly the content of the majority of the messages:

You: I miss you

Other: u 2, when can we meet again?

You: can’t get away from the partner right now

Other: Make it sooner rather than later, I need you

You: Its so nice to hear someone actually say that

Other: u dont get treated right, u deserve better

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

You: thx, get back to you

From your floating spot, you see through the obscurity, someone else sits down at the table that your past self sits at. The hand quickly jams the cell phone back into a pocket and out of view.

**

You wake up to a knock on the car window. The dream is a vision, you know it. What a horrible, uncaring person you seemed to have been. It’s really no wonder that you would have easily fallen into the trap that Kepler Hawking set to change your memories. There is yet another knock on the car window.

You are surprised to see Roger standing there, wrapped in a light coat, wearing a flappy hat. You hit the unlock button and motion for him to move around to the passenger seat.

Roger climbs into the seat and reclines it back to a similar position as yours. “I’m glad you sent me a message. We’ve not heard much from Mysticalis since you both left California. I’ve not always been privy to the unicorns’ actions, but the elders are fairly in tune with them.”

“I still don’t quite understand the connection between your people and unicorns.”

“People that have not forgotten the old ways usually have some contact with such beings. I used to see them up and down the Klamath when I was just a little boy. I stopped seeing them around the time that I became a man.” Roger shrugs and doesn’t know if that fully answers your question.

“Anyway.”

“Anyway, the elders think that Pulchris had some contact with the Watchers... might have set it off a bit. The elders believed in its path, but they were concerned as to how its brethren would see its choice. Word is the Wendigo have made successful contact with Mysticalis. That’s troubling.” Roger pauses and gives you a chance to speak. “You’ve encountered one of the Wendigo before, back in California. She sought the life source. Some of the elders believe that she acquired it, too.”

“That’s impossible. I watched her die, if it’s that one.”

“No no no, they don’t die so easily. They only die once they’ve got an empty stomach and are again killed, otherwise, the energies inside them will keep them in this world.”

“Well... shit...” You felt guilty and terrible at the time. You thought you’d murdered someone. Now, you will have to deal with that emotional wave again, since the first time was fake.

“Anyway, while I’ve been here, waiting for you, I didn’t sit by idly. I’m pretty sure I’ve found a servant to one of the more senior of the Wendigo.”

“Should I be worried? I mean, I was acting in self defense. I wasn’t trying to hurt anybody but it was me or her it seemed.” You frown as you rub your thumbs together as you look down at them and your face is burning from the shame and foolishness of your mistake. There was a silver lining perhaps, you would have the chance to see Greta again, and to figure out what was happening. And maybe you would apologize to her. Or you’d just leave it in your past, a forgotten event of a near life changing experience.

Roger could see that you were in deeper thought as you blushed. He took that as a chance to help to smooth it over and share a bit more. “You’re alright.” He put a hand on your back and gave you a comforting little shake.

Roger continued then as he kept a supportive hand there. “Don’t take on the guilt of this. The Wendigo have existed since at least the 1800’s in our tribe’s recollection, probably longer. There were many stories of the people that traveled West during the gold rush. I’m sure you have heard the many stories of harsh winters and cannibals. Some were just that, still others were those that had been cursed by the spirits of the land. They took on the essence of darkness. A beast that hates all living things and seeks to consume. Their hunger is never ending and they will walk the land and eat until there is nothing more to eat. They prey on the living and seek only sustenance from a fresh kill.

“As far as my people have seen it, there are two conditions that come from those that receive the curse. Those that try to spare humanity of their pain usually become the most like beasts. They consume animals that still live, raw and fresh. The more they consume, the more they lose their mental capacity. From there, it is a short trek to becoming a monster that forgets their once human mortal minds. Yet still there is another that is perhaps worse. Those cunning and self loathing that receive their succor from humanity. Those that do often find their mental capacities and cruelty personified in a truly terrifying and powerful way. It is a tight rope to walk for those that wish to do something with their remaining existence that is not just misery.”

You take it all in and you feel your heart race as you see again and again in your mind’s eye the vision of a human looking face pressing in close to you against your neck. You envision the feeling of teeth tearing into your skin and pulling apart your tissue, consumed by a monster.