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Nightmare
By Pasquale Ventriglia
Click here if you'd like to exchange critiques
Rating: PG
Word Count: 3874
Chapter 1: The nightmare
On a far off island in the middle of a dark and stormy sea, covered by a veil of shadows, you stand-alone. There you find yourself in a frozen field beneath a bleak sky, which is lit only by a pale winter moon. Somehow this place feels familiar to you, but you can't quite put your finger on how. The cold grips tightly, your body shivers, and you can barely feel your toes as the frost creeps slowly up your body towards your chest. You take in a deep breath, the cold air caresses like a frozen glove, down your nostrils and into your lungs, freezing all the little hairs on the way. Then you let out a shivered sigh, and your breath leaves behind a frosty trace, like a thousand tiny shards of glass suspended in the black winter's night. Looking down at your feet as they crunch on the frozen grass, you see next to you lands a crow as black as a thousand nights. Standing still and silent you watch. For a long time it wonders around as if it somehow doesn't even notice your there, despite it only being a foot or two in front of you. But just then, as if you had appeared from nowhere, startled its head jerks upwards. And with eyes that seem as dead and as cold as an open grave it stairs straight at you. In complete deadlock you stand staring into one an others eyes. A strange feeling comes over you, a feeling of calm and peacefulness. But in the back of your mind you know not to stair to long. It seems like hours, as you stand there not able to look away. Until that is the crow slowly begins to turn its body and then its head away from you, freeing you from its assiduous gaze. And so it goes hoping away, but just before it takes flight, it looks around and gives you one last perturbing glance and then it is gone. So again now you stand alone in this frozen wasteland, and as you become more accustom to the silence you begin to find it almost peaceful. Then suddenly you hear an ear-piercing scream on the cold night air "aaaaaaaaahhhhhhhh!", a scream that instantly shatters the silence which you had been so peacefully enjoying.
Quickly you raise your head and look to see were the scream had come from, then you see across the frozen green under the veil of a dark and sinister looking forest a dim flame flickering in the distance. "Maybe some sort of bonfire" you think to yourself but can't really quite make it out. Then you see in front of the flame appears the silhouetted figures of four hooded men. They begin dancing around a large granite stone, a strange untamed dance like something from a bygone time of witchery and magic. Then you hear the faint sound of beating drums coming from the distance, and their almost conscious rhythm is carried across the ancient field ahead of you, like the great heartbeat of some huge beast lying, waiting in the dark woods calling you, biding you to come nearer. You see that on the stone altar there appears to be something moving, a small figure that seems to be struggling, but struggling in vein. Closer and closer you get, and seeing a bush you decide to hide behind it. Now the hooded men become clearer as they move in their wild dance to the now almost deafening beat of those drums. Through the bushes you can see the amber flame of the bonfire glowing hot, and it seems to almost play with the shadows on the hard frozen ground as it dances and flickers, in some strange fiery courtship. But the flame does move to the beat of the drums, no, the flame and the shadows seem to dance to something more sinister, something more primitive. And so with the fire growing stronger it begins to warm you, melting away the cold (and even your previous unease), and as you breathe in you can smell its burning embers. It begins to make you feel safe, warm, as if you were at home sitting in front of your cozy fire. But then you're quickly taking away from those inviting thoughts and are hurled straight back into the nightmare. But now you hear the screams again, much louder this time and unmistakably coming from the figure on the altar. But now they're accompanied bye the cries and sobs of a what sounds like a small child, and as you raise your head to get a better look, you see behind the dancing men, and near the burning fire. On the altar a boy, a boy no older then five with fear in his eyes. He lies their in terror and confusion with his hands and feet tied down, and no matter how much he struggles and cries with the horror and panic he will never escape, and you know this only to well. Then as if from no were at the head of the altar, emerging from the forest like a specter from some dark otherworldly place, appears a tall mysterious figure. The figure is hooded like the others and yet you feel there is something dreadfully deferent about this one, something very disturbing. It is almost like that eerie felling you get when you think you've seen someone before but you don't know were or when you saw them, or even why you think you know them. Now standing directly above the little boy and with the drums still beating, this strangely familiar individual slowly draws back his hood, and as he does so he reveals not a mans face but a skull like head. A skull like head of some horned beast not of this world. With its face only half lit by the yellow flame the other in the bleak darkness, he stairs down at the petrified boy, who is still struggling and screaming, crying out for help that may never come. The boy's face is now etched with fear as the tall pan like figure reaches into his long flowing black robe. Then from it he draws out a razor sharp blade, that gleams in the light of the ever-growing fire like some mystical dagger from an ancient myth. He raises it slowly above his horned head, and then with this action the dancing men and the drums stop, and all that are around (including you), stand transfixed to the blade above the head of this goat man. The terrified child then freezes with absolute fear, and you see in his eyes that he knows his life hangs above him in the hands of his satanic captor. And at that moment, with an unearthly raw from the beast, and a sudden gasp of air from all, the figure brings the knife hurter-ling down like a crash of lightning straight towards the child...
"Toooooooooommmmmmmmmyyyyy, nooooo!" Ivan screams as he wakes suddenly in a cold sweat from his unremitting nightmare "Oh God, why, why?" He weeps into his pillow, a question he has asked many a time before (and will ask many a time again).
Just then, as he began to wipe the sweat from his forehead, he heard a hurried shout from downstairs "Ivan, are you ok?" It's his mother.
"Yes mum." Ivan says with a sigh and a quiver in his voice. Thinking to himself as if see cares much anyway. "I'm fine." He adds, but his not really and he hasn't been for a long time.
"Well you better get dressed or you'll be late for school!" Ivan's mom shouts with no particular urgency as she leaves the house, slamming the front door behind her, and rushing of to work. Not even bothering to wait around to catch his reply.
"YES.... Mum, (as if you care.)"
You see Ivan's mum often does that... leaves him alone either to go to work or out drinking, ever since he was little she did this, even after his little brother was born. He'd always be left alone to take care of him, even if it meant he had to skip school to do so. She didn't really care about that she thought Ivan was a bit thick anyway. And Ivan himself would much rather stay home from school to look after his brother than leave him with one of his mum's drunken boyfriends as she often would. Ah yes, the boyfriends, now they we're a regular occurrence with Ivan's mum. She'd often meet a new boyfriend on the mainland every other week, and then bring him home to do... well lets jus say something that Ivan heard only to well, every other night. Ivan thought this most likely to be her way of dealing with the loss of his father.
Fortunately for Ivan none of them seemed last more then a week or two before they we're out the door again, after some big drunken row. But than again this just seemed to make his mom's drinking even worse, and that didn't help his situation much. Ivan had grown used to it though, and just got on with things even if it meant he did suffer for it at school. School Huh that was the only thing that Ivan hated even more than his mom's drinking. You see for along time now he'd not been doing well at school, in fact he was doing terrible, but we'll get to that soon enough.
"Not school again," Ivan muttered to himself as he jadedly got out from underneath his tattered sheets not even bothering to open his curtains to let the light in as he slumped over to his wardrobe. Not much of a wardrobe though, a door hanging of and the bottom fallen through, not to mention only being full of dull black clothes. Most of these were moth bitten and tattered, and as for finding anything the kids at school would think fashionable, well lets just say there's more chance of hell freezing over. He wearily got dressed and then with his usual enthusiasm dragged himself of down stairs into the kitchen. When he finally got into the kitchen, after climbing over all the junk in the hallway, being extremely hungry he decided to go straight over to his small worn-down old fridge. Now Ivan's fridge was very old and worn-down, you know the type, the ones that sound as if its about to exploded at any moment, with the puke green paint peeling of, and the rust showing through. So then he opens its lost broken down rusty door hoping to find some great feast inside, so that he wont have to eat that repulsive school food they serve. But all he seems to find is no food at all the fridge barren like some artic wasteland. This is often the case with his fridge in the morning, and thinking to himself he says "Why on earth did I expect anything different." But then just as he was about to slam the door shut in anger... "Hang on" he says noticing a very old looking carton of milk right at the back behind his moms bottles of gin and vodka. "Well its something" he mutters as he begins to move the bottles out of the way and grabs the milk, that he notice is unsettlingly warm to the touch. In fact it was almost hot. Putting the carton on the cluttered table he sits down, and with a bit of a struggle manages to open it, "Oh my God, what the hell!" He shouts, moving away quickly as the foul stench of the warm rancid milk hits him and almost causes him to vomit right there. "Oh God I cant drink that. But I' am so thirsty." And so due to his tremendous thirst he pinches the end of his nose tips his head back and gulps the thick putrid milk down with extraordinary effort. And it nearly caused him to vomit all over the kitchen floor, as the thick lumpy milk crept down his parched throat. Recovering from this (with about a gallon of tap water) he throws the rest of the milk into the rubbish and slowly walks of towards the couch, Then with a gloomy look upon his face grabs his school bag. Then with his head hung low sets off out the door towards school, and yet another day in a place that he hadn't enjoyed for along time.
As Ivan leaves his front gate and wearily heads of down the same old street he's lived on for all his life, he notices something a bit odd about this-morning though, as if something big was about to happen. There was a strange calmness and barley a sound could be heard, apart from a few leaves in the trees rustling. The air was very still as if there we're a vacuum around the hole place that sucked all the atmosphere away, apart from this close humid feeling that hung in the air and made it almost difficult to breath. Only a slight warm breeze blew by, and with it Ivan saw a plastic bag rise high up into the sky above. Looking up at the bag he noticed that there was no sun to be seen any were, only strange looking clouds that hung low in the sky with a murky yellowish kind of colour about them. Ivan didn't like those sorts of clouds, they scared him for some reason, and what was worse he didn't know why. Ivan looked around him and saw no one, which was all too strange for this time in the morning when everyone was usually going of to work or to school. Deciding it was all to calm (and being a little bit scared) he started walking hastily down his street away from his front gate, and headed instantly off towards school. As he was walking keeping his eyes straight ahead of him suddenly he felt it start to rain. Slowly at first in small drops, kind of refreshing him, waking him up slightly. Which he really almost welcomed knowing what kind of day he had got ahead of him with the exams and all the usual hassle he gets. But then just as he started to get a bit of hope that the day might not be all that bad, he looks up to the sky once again, and then all of a sudden the rain comes belting down. Huge great big droplets of icy cold rain soaking him instantly to the bone, as Ivan was only wearing a T-shirt (as this was supposed to be summer after all). "Ah no, this is just what I need" he said in dismay while covering his head with his scruffy old school bag, which didn't seem to help much at keeping the rain of, considering it had great big holes in and was already soaked itself. Then Ivan with his hopes of a nice day once again out the window, started thinking to himself that it just couldn't get any worse, what with the school still a lengthy walk away and him not having any bus fare. But was very much mistaking, because just then as he began to jog slowly down his street, a blinding bolt of lighting went of in the sky and was shortly followed by a deafening clap of thunder. With a look of disbelief in his eyes he cried out loud (as he thought no one was around anyway) "OH GOD NO! Not a thunderstorm, I hate this bloody island".
"Nice weather we're having hey Ivan?" Said a voice from behind, almost giving Ivan a heart attack. Turning around quickly Ivan saw that it was Mr. Potter his science teacher, and he was on his rather battered old bike off to school. Now Mr. Potter was a small man in his mid thirties with one of those awful beards that most mad science teachers grew, he was odd but then again quite a jolly man for his profession and most of the kids at school liked him. He had lived down the same street as Ivan ever since he moved to the island about five years ago, and he would often make, what Ivan and most others found as stupid little remarks like that one. You see he was the kind of teacher who was always cracking little jokes that only made him laugh and sometimes the students, well at him that is not with him (not that he knew that of course).
"Huh, yeah great weather." Ivan grunted in reply, not exactly amused by Mr. Potter's remark considering his rather wet situation.
"You look rather wet Ivan. Didn't you bring a coat or an umbrella out with you today?" He remarked with a stupid looking grin on his face.
"I didn't think it would rain, it is supposed to be summer after all."
"Ah, you see that's where you went wrong, I always bring a jacket and an umbrella with me. You see even in summer you never know when a big storm is just going to pop out of no were and catch you out."
"Huh, yeah I suppose." Ivan answered, just wishing that he would go away now and leave him alone. He wasn't much in the mood for chitchat.
"Anyway now, I must be of I'm actually a little bit late you see. Had a bit of trouble with the bike, a flat tire, don't know how I got it the bike was fine last night." He began to say as if Ivan really cared. "So see you later then, and hurry to school you don't want to be late yourself." And with that he cycled of splashing Ivan accidentally with a puddle on his way.
"Bye. And good riddance." Ivan said mumbling the last part under his breath.
Now absolutely drenched through Ivan turned the corner straight onto Brook Street. This is his old friend Johnny lived ad the street he had always walked through on his way to school ever since he was little. Ivan and Johnny had become friends' one day about six years ago, when Ivan was eight and Johnny being a November child was nine. It was summer of that year and Ivan was happily walking to his new school (he just left the islands lower school and was now going to the upper school). When as he turned onto Brook Street he was grabbed from behind swung round and given a great thump to his stomach, winding him and sending him to his knees instantly.
"Gives us your money book boy!" Shouted a grumbling harsh sounding voice. "Yeah, give us you money now." Said three other voices to him while giving him a good kick to the sides. Looking up still holding his stomach he saw it was Tony Baits, the local tough kid and his three friends Peter, Ray and Eddy. They had all been picking on Ivan ever since they first laid eyes on him years before, and we're all a few years older than him.
"Well, where's your money I no you've got some" Baits said now with Ivan's choler clenched firmly in his fist.
"I uh, I don't have any." Ivan managed to cough out, still recovering from that blow to the stomach.
"Don't lie to us, I see your mummy give you some cash before you leave everyday." Ray a big rough looking boy with horrible greasy black hair that looked like it had never been washed said this. Ray knew that Ivan had been given money because he lived straight across the road from him, and saw everything Ivan did as he left the house on his way to school.
"So you're trying to lie to us are you book boy, trying to rip us of hay". Said Tony, who was a huge fat lad with ginger hair and a scare across he's left eye. The scare he said he got in a fight, but everyone knew it was when he fell over in the playground a couple of years ago. He was now holding Ivan up against a wall still grabbing tightly on his choler. With a slight hint of fear in his voice but making sure there wasn't to much, as this was what ginger Tony wanted, he said "Honestly ginge... um I mean Tony I' ant got any, my mum had to leave for work early today and forgot to give me any"
Tony didn't believe this for one second, Despite it being true. And just as he was about to give him a mighty punch in the face, a rock came flying across and hit Tony right in the head making him fall to his knees with his head in his hands shouting out in pain. Than a voice shouted not to convincingly "Leave him alone, you stupid fate ginger pig. Pick on someone your own size." It was Johnny with a bunch of stones in his one hand and the other holding up his bike. With that and now being very angry all four of them Tony, Ray, Peter and Eddy turned and started walking towards Johnny. With a look like a scared rabbit on his face Johnny got on his bike and shouted over to Ivan "RUN!" And sow Ivan did with his hart racing like a mad man he ran and ran with the shouts of "we're gona pound you to freaks." And other such stuff right behind him making him run even faster and his heart beat even harder. And then as he began to reach the end of the street, and began to run out of breath with them right behind him, Johnny suddenly pulled up in front of him on his shinny silver bike and out of breath himself said "Quickly get on the bike, quickly." So Ivan did as he said and jumped on the back of the bike. Then just as one of the four was about to grab him off the bike from behind, Johnny started off like a shot, almost making Ivan fall of into the hands of the bullies anyway because he wasn't holding on properly. And with that they went racing of down the street and round the corner, with the shouts of Tony, Peter, Ray and Eddy baying for blood fading in the distance. So their Ivan was on the back of this kids bike with his heart pounding as if it was about to explode, after just narrowly escaping a beating. Not being able to think of anything better to say Ivan managed to spurt out an exhausted "Thanks".
To which Johnny replied in an equally exhausted way "that's all right. Hate them lot.... Um anyway my names Johnny, what's yours?"
"I'm Ivan" he said why'll looking behind to see if they we're still being pursued.
With that Johnny Turned of onto a small road and stopped in a nearby field, knowing that if they we're still being chased, then their pursuers wouldn't bother or even have the intelligence to go looking for them there.
(please tell me what you thought of this story at Steven_v@lycos.co.uk, and tell me if you think its worth my while to continue. thanks.)
