Brylee's Dream

Assignment for Brylee Stinnen from Doctor Phelan:  Write a story of your recurring dream.



The dream is the same, me walking along the dirt path through the woods.  Midnight moon keeps her light under her skirts as I wind through the trees, catching glimpses of stars overhead.  The breeze stirs the canopy high above, a swirling whisper of warning carried along its raspy breath.

I stretch my arms out wide as I walk, closing my eyes, inhaling the night as I progress.  The nearly imperceptible crunch of dead leaves behind me sets my nerves alight.  A hunt has begun, saturating my body with adrenaline of flight or fight.  I tamp down the urge to run and continue my stroll, opening my eyes to absorb the shadowed world surrounding me.

Another careless crack of a fallen twig brings a smile to my face, and peace to my soul.  Come lowly hunter, meet your prey at last.

Attack is rapid, the blow to the back of my head meant to disorient and subdue me.  I fall to the moist earth of the path and smile, letting my fangs drop, allowing the whites of my eyes to bleed red.  Just like my adopted mother.  She is the penultimate vampire, I am merely her child.

As the attacker turns me onto my back his putrid exhalation assaults my nostrils, curling up the sneer on my lips.  He presses the blade to my throat and laughs.  "You're going to die tonight, bitch."

I throw him from my body, leaping to my feet, clasping both hands at my cheek, throwing him off balance with my saccharine-sweet pleading, "No, please don't hurt me.  Whatever will I do?  Help, please, someone help." 

He scuttles to a safe distance, holding the knife defensively in front of his crouch.  "What are you?"

With a pout and stomping of the trampled leaves and roots on the path, I tantrum, "You are not being fair.  You promised I would die tonight.  Do you know how many of you have promised I would die?  You never follow through.  I find you to be lacking as well."  I sigh and brush off the dirt from my jeans and knit top.  "Guess I will have to kill you as well."

"Wh..wh..what are you?"

"I am hungry.  And you caused me to rip a hole in my favorite pair of my jeans.  Do you know how much I paid for these?  Money doesn't grow on trees, ya' know."

"What are you!"

"Really now?  You attacked me.  Even told me I was going to die."  I huff out an exhale and smile.  "Why do criminals seem so demur when they are faced with mortality?"  He stares at me with his mouth open in that annoying 'O'.  "Seriously.  I am conducting research here."  I clap in front of his stunned expression.  "Chop, chop.  Why are you so wimpy all of a sudden?"

The freaking stare remains, no verbal response coming anytime soon.  I lose patience and leap onto his body, biting into his neck, sucking his life through the punctures of my fangs.  He flails and kicks for a bit, then slows to jerks, finally settling to lifeless below me.  Twist, twist, twist...pop!

How does one define evil?  How does one define religion and God?  Should I have let him go to kill someone else?  Someone who never stood a chance of saving themselves?  Did I throw the stone in my very own glass house?

Thankfully this was just a dream.

Holding the severed head at eye level, I espouse, "You really need to work on some new material.  Your serial killer shtick is not working."  His head drips noncommittally at my side.  "Where is Stephanie Meyer when you need her obvious banality?"  I tuck the head under my arm and purposely saunter down the darkened path.  "Maybe next time I will meet someone worthy of my wit."