Story #143 - Mares

Mares

The nightmares were coming again.

Dal Rendson had done his best to avoid them, but he knew once the feeling overtook him and his eyes closed, there was no escape. He’d searched for the better part of a decade to find out why he had been chosen to bear the burden, and why they affected him so deeply, but no expert could offer him advice, no guru could offer him solace.

Days would pass with no problems, and then exhaustion would seek him out, sliding into him like a snake into water. It did not matter how much he slept, or how long he rested; once the nightmares began to arrive, there was no stopping them.

“You OK, Dal?” That was Prist. They had met two towns back, and Prist had a more reliable vehicle than Dal, so they had come to an accommodation. Dal sacrificed the best parts of his transport to make Prist’s run more smoothly, and together they set off for parts unknown. The taller man said that he was looking to see the world and wouldn’t stop until he’d explored every corner of it, and apparently had taken Dal’s low grunt as agreement.

“Fine.” There was no point in telling Prist about the nightmares. It wouldn’t do any good. Dal squinted at the horizon. The sun was low; he could make an argument for camp.

“The area gets rocky up here, Prist,” he said, “might be best to camp it out for the night. If we pop a wheel in the dark, we’ll have a hell of a time getting up and running again.”

Prist nodded. He was sensible; a trait missing in most of those Dal came across. “Let me pull over.”

A shady spot under low-hanging trees was quickly located, and they dropped out of Prist’s vehicle to set up camp. Two bedrolls were all they needed; the temperature was warm enough that no fire was required to make it through the night.

Dal could feel the exhaustion creeping up on him – he could either pass out standing up, or get to his blanketroll and have at least that minor comfort. He yawned theatrically. “Well, I’m beat. Night, Prist.”

“Night,” the other man said, sliding his own thin frame into a blanketroll. “See you in the morning.”

Sure, Dal thought, provided there is one.

It wasn’t just the nightmares that got to him; it was the fact that he seemed to be the only line of defense between a shattered version of the world and the reality of the waking earth.

His eyes closed.

***

He never knew what form the nightmare was going to take. Two days ago it had been a world covered entirely in water, and he had no choice but to swim as hard as he could all night, searching for something his mind couldn’t form the image of but that he knew was crucially important to his own survival. The experience had left him more tired when he woke than when he had fallen asleep, and he was lucky that Prist was possessive of his vehicle – Dal driving it would have killed them both.

Tonight, the nightmare was a hazy copy of the real world, even down the tree they had parked under and their bedding. The colors of sunset were instead overlaid in dark blue and swirling purple, and as far as his vision would reach showed swirling eddies and wafting currents of shadowy energies.

He didn’t recognize the ‘mare, and that meant it was even less safe to move around. Worlds that looked just like his own could be deadly, and he was afforded no protection in the dream world that he didn’t have in the real one.

It was a slim shape behind the tree that caught his attention, and he moved slowly around the trunk, keeping his distance and his eyes locked on the form. It seemed to be human in appearance, but taller than he was and more indistinct.

He should have been able to see its face by now, but the thing was also moving, sliding around the tree in the same direction he was going, keeping just ahead of him with every step. Stopping suddenly, he then stepped the other direction and the form of the other creature became apparent.

“Prist!?” The taller man’s face was clear, even in the dim half-light.

“Dal?” Prist’s face showed his own shock.

“What are you doing here?” They both said together.

There was a pause, and Dal waited an extra moment for Prist to begin speaking. “I’ve been coming here for years – not by my own choice. I hide for the most part, keeping to myself and staying alive. I’ve never been killed here, but I’ve been injured, and found that it translated to a minor injury in the real world.”

Dal nodded. He had found the same thing; injuries here could affect his real body, though a broken arm in the nightmare typically meant a bruise in the waking world. Still, he also had no desire to die and see if he would actually wake.

“I’ve never seen another living soul here,” Dal said, and saw an expression cross Prist’s face, the same one he knew must be on his own whenever he encountered the denizens of this place. The form of the nightmare might change, but the creatures were always the same.

“But you’ve seen them,” Prist said, and Dal nodded. “have you ever spoken to one?”

“Spoken? They can talk?” Dal assumed their mindless howling was the extent of their abilities. That, and to look deadly.

“Yes, yes!” Prist’s eyes were wide. “They want to talk to me now, all the time. They seek me out, no matter where I hide. I don’t know what brought me here, Dal, and I don’t know why – but the creatures want me!”

Dal could see them coming – a line of flowing red shapes in the distance, quickly covering the ground toward them. The real nightmare had arrived.

- D