A Dream Brought To Life

“AGH-” The woman let out an agony filled scream before she was knifed to the ground, the weapon protruding out the side of her throat. A cloaked hand grabbed the hilt, twisting it out before stepping over the body and continuing the pursuit.

The girl with a sleek scar across her face, scrambled from the ground and ran away. Her long legs attempting to get as much distance between her and the faceless humanoid as far as possible. Her eyes reflected the light from the fires combusting all around her path. The wails of women and children infiltrated her ears but she had to keep going. She had to.

Entering the forest, heading to a cabin outcasted from the village, she entered her door and slammed it shut. She then hustled towards her bedroom where she tossed the across-the-shoulder bag off her body and headed to the end of her bed. Opening the chest, she shuffled through the pictures, weapons and made a headway for the bourbon-colored pouch underneath the false board built in underneath.

“How did you think of this?” Her publisher asked, peering over the manuscript pages.

“I saw it in a dream,” Sloane replied, anxiously scraping the pink nail polish off her nails.

“A dream?” Marie responded, squinting her eyes, attempting understanding. She flipped through the rest of the pages stapled behind the unfinished scene, seeing all of them empty. Sloane had added it as a way for Marie to see the vision.“No, a dream is thinking you can give me two pages of written work and tell the company to prepare for a launch. What’s the plot? Who are the characters? Who is she running from? What’s in the pouch?”

“And I know all of this,” Sloane lied. “All I need is my advance and everyone will know this too.”

“What do you need the money for?”

“Bills.” Marie scoffed.

“You made a fortune off of your last book.” A fortune would be exaggerating. Sloane’s first novel was a bestseller, flying off the shelves! Sloane’s sophomore novel did sell well, but not as well as someone who was in a crippling amount of parental debt and needed to pay it off before she got a call that someone was going to cut off her dad’s pinkie toe.

“Come on, invest in me. You know I’m worth it.”

“I don’t know if this book is worth it, that’s the problem. And if you mess up, the company will be at my neck.” Marie threw the stack towards her. “Get me more story, and I’ll get your money.”

“Do you think we should be doing this?” Beatrice, Sloane’s maid, asked holding up a candle. Sloane’s bedroom was covered in light illuminated from seance-like, wax shaped candles.

“We have no choice Bea. This is the greatest idea I’ve had yet!”

“To contribute to a fire hazard?”

“I need that dream, Bea. I need to know where it goes, why it’s there. I don’t know anything except the town’s name, Carry What You Left.”

“Well, that’s not really a name is it, ma’am?” Sloane started to tuck herself underneath her covers.

“Where the dream left off, I was grabbing for a pouch. That was after I or the girl was running through a village on fire. So if I recreate those conditions, I can see what she was doing.”

“This seems like a bad idea.”

“Duh. That’s why we have bowls of water on the floor.” Sloane slapped her hands thrice and the lights went dim. Another soul sucking purchase that prevented her from last month’s debt repayment.

“Let the dream commence!”She slipped the sleep mask over her eyes and laid corpse pose on her bed. Bea just watched her boss, feeling the stupidity sink in from where she was standing. For someone so smart, she sure as hell made some dumb decisions, thought the maid. But the lady said nothing and sighed. Obeying Sloane’s commands, she lit the final candle on her night stand and slipped out.

“Dream.”

“Dream.”

“Dream.”

“Dream.”

“Dream-”

A dinosaur-like roar could be heard from behind the door. The scarred girl’s eyes opened wide, stuffing her pouch into her boot and grabbing a random photograph into a fisted palm.

The door opened with a loud and threateningly slow creak.

Hiding, the girl’s body began to tremble at the sound of mental clinks entering the room. She tried to take an inaudible breath in, but her own mouth couldn’t be trusted. The feeling of fear began to pierce her heart like the knife shown in the woman's throat from earlier. She could feel rivulets of blood spill out in luscious streams, filling her chest.

The lizard-noid who was still blurry to Sloane’s mind, had gradient skin of the lightest orange and blue. Its snout was large and prominent, jagged teeth hanging from the top jaw. As it opened its mouth, the chattering sound of robot and animal echoed throughout the empty room. Then without indication, the noid hops towards the front of the bed and lifts it so hard towards the ceiling, it collapses as it rains back down. Seeing nothing but an empty space, the noid sniffs again.

The scent of weakness infiltrated its senses life wafts of an annoying odor.

“Battery detected-”

The girl betraying her every bodily instinct, runs towards the noid, an electric powder in hand and throws it at it. The noid couldn’t respond; its functions began to shut down, electricity running throughout its body in visible currents.

The girl pulled out a jagged long sword and in a fearless strike, tears into the metal back. She dragged the sword until the end of its head. Inside sat a minuscule amount of the powder that just killed it.

Noids could only be killed by the right amount of dezed powder. Any less would have no effect. Which is why only a compact amount was built into their brains. To be able to kill one, you need to have the powder of two. She thanked her father for assuring she had hidden dezed around the house.

Just as she was about to collect more, the noid returned to life and without hesitation, blasted a shot right into her face, striking her dead.

Sloane woke up, a wide smile took over her face. She shot up, without taking the mask off and exclaimed, “Bea I got it! I got the storyline! I got the characters! These robots- they kill themselves!”

She ripped off her sleeping mask, ready to say more, only to be halted by the hollow, fog covered trees around her. A cold chill brushed past her pajama clad shoulders and the howling of the wind hit the headboard. Stunned by amazement, it quickly went away as her eyes tracked the outcast house, its doors wide open.

Her mouth was jarred, ready to say something. Anything.

Clink. Clink. Clink.