Nightmare Journal

[Nocturus]

The other night I had a dream...
Or rather, a nightmare, I rarely have a dream that isn't one.
It started off as many of them do in a large room scarce of decoration or light.
A table sits in the center of the room and there are chairs to three sides of it.
On the fourth side there is a cage.

I sit to the right side of the table.

I sit to the left side of the table... or rather; someone who looks exactly like me does.
I call him Christian; it's my middle name and he's basically me.. or rather; the me I wish I were.
My subconscious desire is to be him.
He's thinner, less awkward, always clean-shaven with a good haircut and clothes that don't look ratty and messed up.
He smiles and nods at me in greeting as always.
"How'm I doing?" He asks politely.
His smile stretches and the scar on his left cheek grows taut.
It looks like a burn, just beneath his eye in the shape of a blackened and overturned cross.
It's my fault it's there.

To the third side of the table sits a gaunt man in a suit.
Ever heard the old saying 'the devil made me do it'?
He's sort of my own inner demon.
I call him Ol' Lou, after Lucifer.
As with my double Lou makes me look ratty and out of place.
A tailor-made suit, short well-groomed hair, glittering green eyes with far too much emotion behind them for a single person to contain.
"You could just give up, you know?" Lou says with a cold and alien smile that seems out of place on his features.
He notices me looking at the mark on Christian's face and snickers.
It is he who placed it there; a mark of ownership.
Christian stays within me at all times, making sure Lou doesn't just unlock the cage without my permission.

To the fourth side, within the cage, sits me yet again.
Or rather; it's shaped like me.
A mess of writhing shadows and spikes just barely holding itself together in my form.
It pants and salivates; blood, sweat, and tears rolling off it's venomous tongue.
It looks up at me and nudges at the lock on it's cage, whimpering in a manner that makes my ears hurt.
I call it 'Esuritio.'
It's Latin for 'hunger.'
That's the best way I can explain the creature in the cage.
He, or rather, it is made of my negative emotions as far as I can tell.
Every ounce of sadness, fear, hatred, jealousy, anger, depression; it feeds him up.
He wants out, longs to be set loose.
Longs to make those who created him hurt as bad as he does.
I don't dare touch the lock on his cage; even though I know it would make life... effortless.

"Tired." I respond to Christian, to which he does nothing but nod, a sad and knowing smile overtaking his features.
I turn to Lou and shake my head, whispering to him as I take my seat;
"Not going to happen." He sighs and shrugs, laying back a bit in his chair.

"Have it your way then." He mutters, motioning for the game to begin.

A chess board sits between the four of us; but there are only enough pieces for two of us to play.
I recall that long ago I was playing against Lou, but somehow he managed to switch places with Christian.
My double and I are evenly matched.
Neither of us makes much progress, each time one takes a piece, the other takes the same sort of piece in retaliation.
Originally I was trying to beat Lou, to get him to just leave me alone, leave the monster in it's cage.
Now the games are held for his entertainment, now we play to stall him, rather than with any real hope of winning.
We take turns; a simple back and forth.
Neither of us plans it but our moves are identical.
The game never ends and while we play Lou begins to talk; as he always does.

"I'm still amazed you continue to play, my boy." He says affectionately.
"I'd have thought that you were tired of hurting by now, tired of losing those you care about.
Of that loss Tearing pieces from your soul."

I intake a deep breath, waiting for it.
As usual his words begin to work their magic.
I see my Grandma and Grandpa in the corner of my eye.
Off to one side I see people I used to call friends.
My first girlfriend is there as well.
I long to go to them, to talk and to smile and to feel whole, instead I return to the game.

One by one they turn and walk away; as they do so I can feel my fragile heart breaking.
Christian winces and almost drops his game-piece.
A white knight.
In mid-turn.
'Tearing pieces from your soul.'
Ol' Lou's words are a reality.
As they walk away I see thin spectral cords trailing behind those I cared about.
Those who moved on, as well as those who died.
The cords reach back and hook into Christian and I.
As they walk away they rip out pieces of us, scraps of our soul, of our self that we left with them.

Christian finishes his move, taking a pawn and errantly wiping a tear from his eye.
I move one of my knights and respond in kind.
Black knight takes white pawn.
Esuritio stirs and begins to howl, the sound hollow and haunting.
Lou opens his mouth to speak once more.

I release a shuddering breath and take in another, knowing that they'll get harder to get as he continues to speak.
Knowing that everything he says is going to hurt me.
Knowing that Esuritio could stop the hurt.
Knowing if I quit the game and do as Lou said...
If I unlocked the cage...
But I can't.
There's too much at stake.

"I'd have thought you tired of letting people into your life only to be Burned by them." He looks away, not even wanting to see what new horror his words

have wrought.
Maybe to you the devil, or your inner demons are emotionless monsters.
Mine just pretends to be.
Mine hurts in his own ways, and far more than I can begin to imagine.
He turns away and more people flood into the room, appearing from the darkness surrounding us.

I see there people I once trusted...
Friends.
Cousins.
Loved ones.
People who used me.
People who set me up to take a fall for them.
People who stole from me.
People who lied to me.
People who Burned me.
Only in the dream they do so literally.
Torches, lighters, and matches; oh my!
Being burned is one of the most excruciating ways one can be hurt; don't believe me try it yourself.
I suggest you just trust me on it though.
They hold the flames up to my body.
Skin puckers and chars, wrinkling and turning black, searing and dribbling rivulets of blood that quickly dry along my charred skin.

I can't see what's happening to myself, but through tear filled eyes I can see it happening to Christian and I feel pain and terror.
The thing in the cage sits up, clawing at the bars that hold it.
The more I hurt the bigger it seems to get until it's barely contained within it's pitiful cage.
The flames withdraw and Christian and I sob, taking slow shuddering breaths, barely able to sit up straight as our tormentors leave.
Ol' Lou turns back to us, looking piteously upon our twisted features.
In his own sick way he tries to help, to end the burning of our soul.

"Perhaps, however, it isn't being burned by those you trusted that hurts the most," He mutters softly.
As he speaks he licks his lips, his tongue seemingly composed of silver.
"Perhaps what really hurts is being given the Cold shoulder by those you only wish you knew."
He sighs and shakes his head sadly, as though feeling sorry for me and my mirror image.

Christian struggles to move his bishop, taking my castle.
I make my move and the outcome is the polar opposite as my own bishop takes one of his castles.
And then Lou's words work their twisted magic.
I see flashes of the so called 'popular kids' who never gave me the light of day.
I see girls I fawned over, idolized, and waited on hand and foot who turned me away without a second glance.
I see my own father who deserted my family before I could even understand why my mother was so sad, so angry.
Unlike those who came before their images are hazy, inconsistent.
A white fog rolls off of them and settles over me.
At first the cold air is a soothing balm to my burns.
Then it begins to hurt.
My body catches chill and shivers, causing my wounds to split at the edges.
My rivulets of blood freeze into small crimson needles that catch long my flesh and in turn tear me up more as I huddle against myself.
My eyes get heavy, my breathing becomes labored.
I try to weep, but in the cold it does little but to stick my eyes closed.
I tear them open once more and shakily move a pawn, taking no pieces this turn.

They turn on us and walk away as the others have, leaving us in further pain.
We grit our teeth and attempt to continue the game, but neither of us can move well enough at this point to lift the pieces.
Lou's sparkling green eyes alight with glee; he thinks he's won.
I bite my bottom lip.
Christian inhales deeply.
We stretch out our hands and ever so slowly take our turns; first he, then I.
Lou shrugs and sits back, returning to his idle chit-chat.

"Perhaps what hurts is lost love, Ripping up your heart." He says softly.
A girl enters; pale, short, smiling.
Round features, dark hair, full lips.
She walks up to me and leans to wrap her arms around me, and I melt against her.
That's when she strikes; as she always does.
Her nails sink into my back; rending flesh, muscle, and bone.
I grunt in pain and my eyes roll back in my head for a moment as she rips my heart from me.
She pulls away from me, my blood oozing down my back, then turns and does the same to Christian.
With an almost gleeful expression she rips at them, tearing the organs into so much bloody confetti and dropping it along the ground.
That done she walks away, waving as she goes.

"Or maybe..." His smile sickens me; had I the strength I would rise and knock it off his face.
As it is I sit there and wish I could just wake up.
"New love?" He sighs and tilts his head as though lost in reverie of a time when he knew new love.
"Perhaps having your heart Pieced back together leads to the core of your hurt." He pauses, frowning for an instant before continuing on.
"Maybe having part of your newly healed heart Taken from you is the worst."

Another young woman.
Maybe five feet tall.
Red hair, long and tangled.
Glasses.
An adorable smile.
A sad and knowing expression in her eyes.
I smile back, but as I do the tears build in my eyes; I can hear Christian too sobbing to himself.
Absently we both reach towards her and she dances lithely out of reach.
We draw our hands back just before they come to contact with the cage, even now stubbornly refusing to bend to the hunger within.
We could have her if we did...
If we gave in we could have whatever we wanted; at least for a time.
We would be able to take what we wanted.
We try and focus on the game.
She slowly begins to pick up the pieces the last girl made of our hearts.
Almost absently she presses them back together.
This goes on for some time as we continue to play, pain rising as we watch her, knowing what is to come next.
She steps to Christian first.
His heart; glued and stitched together is returned to him and he utters a sigh of sweetest relief.
She steps away and a shiver overtakes him however as part of it tears off, going with her.
The same happens with me.
She returns to me my heart.
But takes a piece of it with her.
Not the sheer and utter agony of before.
Now a hollow and far more profound need.
An all encompassing hunger and desire for her.
"I love you." She says as she turns away.

Christian swallows a lump in his throat.
I put my head in my hands and cry.
Lou in a moment of actual pity reaches out his hands and absently pats us on the backs.
Our wounds crack and bleed yet more, leaving us pained anew.

Esuritio howls out, bashing claws and teeth and vaguely humanoid limbs against the bars.
It cries like a banshee.

Lucifer laments.

I am broken, burned, and bloodied; my soul aches with pain I hardly thought imaginable.
I can't move any longer.
I can do little else but weep.
Christian follows suit, salty tears stinging into his wounds as mine do to my own.

Lou's voice breaks through the howling and sobbing.
His lets loose his own scream of lamentation; hating himself for causing us such pain.
After a moment everything settles.
We all fall into silence.
Lou sighs and waves his hand, motioning for us...
Or rather me to begone.
"Time to wake up." He says softly, his tone neutral, cold; trying to act as though he hadn't had an outburst.
As though he wasn't sickened with himself.
I look to Christian.
My other half nods and just barely manages to twist his charred flesh into something vaguely resembling a smirk.

I burst into another round of tears.
I can hear the fan spinning like mad.
Can hear the alarm bleating sharply by my head.
My body is refreshed.
My mind is weary.
Awake the pains begin to fade, but I know I'll still carry them with me throughout the day.
I know when night falls and I settle to sleep I'll dream again.
I know that dream will be a nightmare.
Just the four of us going over every hurt, every misfortune that I've had the privilege of having to deal with.
A never-ending game in which there are no winners, only losers.
A game in which my choices are suffer in silence or release the monstrous side of me and let those around me suffer.

Sweet dreams.
What a joke.