Dreams, and Nightmares

[Sadism]

The two lay together upon the bed, he on his back and she pressed close to his side with her chin on his chest. The same candles that lit the contours of their faces with a gentle glow cast off a heady perfume, a peaceful drowsiness the result of the melting wax. Softly he murmured to her, hushed words saved for the shell of a lover's ear which were meant to induce the very same flush that invaded her cheeks. Her squeal of embarrassment and the shy way she hid her face against him were the rewards he received, his own grin giving away the lie his attempt at a stern face told.

"A rose, while pretty, is really an insult." he said aloud, at last. One hand lifted - the other was curled about her shoulders - and his fingers spun as he reached into the air, making as if to pluck a flower from a vase. Pluck he did, the object of his words glimmering into existence in his grasp. Petals of the boldest red burned away the dusk that filled the chamber, ruby-light radiating from the center of the flower bud he grasped so delicately. "You see, the truth is, flowers die shortly after being harvested. A few weeks is far too short a time."

The girl cooed happily, bewitched by the realism of the phantasm he'd conjured, lured into a trance by the scintillating shades of red that rippled along the bud as it blossomed in his grasp. The petals sighed as they opened, revealing the ethereal beauty of his dreamed flower. "Flowers are a poor message, to show a woman how much she means. Flowers wilt all too soon, and that says that soon the girl will become unattractive as well."

Mimicking his words, the flower darkened, the red bleeding way into wilted brown, the petals becoming limp and sagging before turning brittle. A flick of his wrist sent the whole thing aloft, the tender leaves crumbling and shattering with the motion.

"It's the stars that she should be compared to." As the crumbling bits of flower separated they began to glitter anew, rising into the air below the ceiling, filling that space as they multiplied. "The stars never fade, and are always beautiful every time you look to them."

Breathlessly she sighed, a part of her wrapped up in the murmuring tone of his words, entranced by the spectacle he shared with her. She turned her face to his easy when long, nimble fingers brushed her chin gently yet firmly. The sounds that emanated from her were hardly forced, as their mouths met in a passionate encounter. It was this same intense meeting and things of an adult nature that began with it that prevented them from hearing the sounds they might have heard otherwise.

The figure that burst into the room was a far-cry from the one the girl sprawled wantonly across on the bed. Where as the lover was tall, athletic, clean-shaven and well-maintained, the other was coarse, calloused, and heavily muscled. A dock-worker by the looks of him, and full of anger for what he saw.

She squealed with terror, scampering across the bed and dropping between it and the wall to cower, whimpering all the while. Left alone, her would-be lover rose to meet this intrusion standing, working at tucking his shirt back into his trousers and making himself a little more presentable. "Sir, ah, I did not know!"

"You'll shut your mouth if you know what's good for you, boy!" the docksman barked, hell and brimstone scalding his gaze. "I know all about you. All the daughters of my mates are sighing over you, Master Elwinn Hopps. More'n a few cry for whatcha've done with them."

Forward a few steps the docksman came, forward and around, moving to the other side of the bed to retrieve the woman that hid there. "Some of us have had a mind to deal with you. Now I'm gonna be the one that does."

"Sir," Elwinn grabbed his coat, throwing it over his shoulders as he thrust one foot into a boot. He was nimble naturally, and his deftness with dressing in a hurry shone as he stomped the first boot on. "I meant no harm to you or your daughter..."

The docksman turned a harsh glare on the younger man, lip twisting in a sneer of a smile. "I wouldn't bother with dressing, boy. The door is barred and locked. You're not leaving before I've had my fill of cracking your ribs." Around the bed he moved now, bending to catch a handful of pale blonde tresses. The woman shrieked as the docksman began to drag her out of her hiding place. "And this whore is my wife. Not my daughter."

[Sadism]

For all that he was or may be labeled as, Elwinn considered himself a genteman, at least in regards to the fairer sex. As the docksman struck a stinging blow to the woman's cheek, he felt no other option was available other than interference. Second boot forgotten, escape forgotten, he moved jack-rabbit quick across the room, grabbing the dockman's thick wrist before his hand could descend for a second blow.

"Sir." All apology was gone from his tongue now. He could not abide a man who beat women.

The quickness of the docksman caught him by surprise, much in the same fashion the heavy fist smashing into his nose did. Stars flared through-out his vision as pain burst through his face. Knees that began to buckle from shock collapsed at the second blow that struck his nose again, further ravaging it. Pleasant features lay in ruin under the battering to his face, blood spraying copiously from the gaping wound that had once been part of his face.

"You're going to die, you man-whore!" the docksman screamed in spittle-spraying rage. "But not before this dirty, filthy harlot burns."

As the pain ebbed and flowed through his face, Elwinn sighed weakly as he crumpled fully to the floor, body drawing instinctively in on itself in an attempt at protection from further injury. The level of agony the radiated from what remained of his nose was more than Elwinn had ever encountered, and quickly it overcame him. Eyes of a rich, earthy brown fluttered closed as they rolled back, unconsciousness sedating the pain.

~~~~

The woman moaned feebly, bruised and bloody where she lay, disallowed the same release her would-be lover had received. Her gown, once a pretty affair that had shown off her ample, young assets, lay tattered and torn, not even covering her in some places. The docksman had not been gentle with his punishment, and now that his arm had tired of it's righteous fury, he was at the hearth, setting the kindling for a fire.

It was the heavy, rasping breath that eventually drew his attention, the wet gurgle of each inhalation different than that of his wife. Something about the very sound of it had raised his hackles, though in his anger he had not registered it for long enough. The slow scrape of something dragging across the floor was what really turned his attention, the fires of his rage stoking themselves as he thought Elwinn coming to and trying to escape his fate.

Expecting to see a bloodied, beaten man weakly pulling himself across the floor, the docksman turned, rising to his feet so that he might appease his anger with a few well placed kicks. The blows were not delivered, however, for what awaited the dockman's attention was not what he wanted to see, but instead something else, something inhuman in it's entirety.

The creature that rose from the floor was sickening, it's body famine ravished and pestilence-infected. Brown, papery skin clung to elongated, inhuman bones. Legs dangled feebly, uselessly, while it's arms crossed over it's chest. Long, taloned fingers lay on it's shoulders, giving it the appearance of someone lain to rest in their grave. It's head fared no better, hollowed eyes staring with empty blackness at the docksman. The visage of death and decay would have been tolerable with a few moments, if not for the gaping maw of a mouth, a deep cavern set jagged with stalagmite and stalactites. Hoarsely a wind howled from the depths of the abominations ruined throat.

"For that the world is but a dream, I am it's nightmare."

The creature hovered motionlessly, making no move to strike vengeance upon the abusive man. It was the things that began to pull themselves from the floor that reached for him, skeletal remains and animated corpses. Hell-hounds that stepped from the depths of the fire, rising to shake flaming manes as they growled their hunger. Twisted mounds of flesh with massive claws and slavering pits for mouths. It was these nightmarish creations that tore into the living flesh in the room, indiscriminately eating whatever was warm and alive, fighting over what still screamed with unbridled horror.

~~~~

The sun was rising as Elwinn moved down the street, whistling a merry tune to himself. Song-birds materialized mid-flight, chirping in harmony with him before fading out of existence. He'd had a good sleep, and even dreamed of a pretty girl who succumbed to his seductions. It had been unpleasant when the dream-woman's husband had shown up. The nightmare he'd suffered through afterwards was hardly any better, yet he had become accustomed to such dark visions, and what had once shaken him as a child, no longer brought him fear. They were, after all, only dreams...

~~~~

It was an open door that had led a neighbour into the house. It was her shrill, hysterical shrieks that had drawn others in to witness the horrors that had occurred within.