Abstract Shadows and Painted Stars

Surrounded by a choir of trees, the cold crawled to my extremities. The branches, like claves, collided together and played a haunting melody. Someone was stalking me and following me down the path. I could see this stranger amongst the thin aspens... he was dipped in shadow, with no distinctive features. I realised then that the demonic entity had returned for me, and it was lurking just beyond the tree line.

Unnerved and frightened, I didn't hesitate and dashed through the dark forest to run away from this monster. My vision narrowing, trees becoming like slits, and suddenly my speed became unbearably slow. It was as if my feet had fallen into a pit of molasses; every movement, every breath, was weighing me down. Looking back, I saw the entity's body convulsing towards me at a rapid pace.

With the aid of this unknown decelerating force, the shadow figure was able to creep closer and closer until he was just inches away. His arms outstretched towards me and his fingers grabbing at my neck. Soon, I could feel nails scratching the surface of my flesh, and I screamed.

I screamed until my lungs shrivelled and ran out of air. The void devoured the sound; my screams, though painful, were utterly silent.

Needing him, I shouted Greyson's name inside my mind.

Just then, two strong hands dug into my shoulders and shook me back to reality. I awoke, safe in my bed.

I wrestled with my covers, pushing everything that touched me as far away from my body as I could, still feeling the lingering sensation of the spirit's hands digging into my throat. With the memory of nails drawing blood from my neck, I clawed at the pink collar of my night-shirt. I pulled and stretched the fabric until the stitches snapped and broke under my hold.

"Ashlyn, are you okay?" Someone asked, soothing a hand down my back. "You had a bad dream."

Feeling disoriented, I peered at my surroundings. Moon beams were streaming through the window like water from a spring, and pooling across the floor. It was beautiful, a beauty that overshadowed my nightmare.

"Breathe."

Yes. I should breathe.

Closing my eyes, I let my chest expend and slowly deflate.

"There we go." This time I recognised the voice, as a strong hand patted my back.

"Francis?" I croaked, rubbing the wetness from my eyes with the heel of my hand. Confused that it wasn't Greyson sitting beside me, I tried my best not to sound disappointed. "What are you doing in my room?"

He placed one hand on my cheek, and made me look at him. "I heard you scream and ran upstairs as soon as I could. I thought for a minute that you were in some kind of imminent danger."

Francis's long fingers felt calloused, and firm as if he was needed to fix me and wasn't willing to wait long to see an improvement. Meanwhile, Greyson had had such a supple touch, almost as if he was holding something delicate, and was afraid to shatter it. When comparing the two, I know Greyson would probably have waited years to see an improvement, if he thought that's what I needed. I never felt pressured with him.

The warrior versus the nurturer, I realised would be a nice words to use to differentiate between their two natures.

"It's okay. It was just a dream. It's no big deal."

I patted his hand and shook my head out of his hold. The light from the hallway was lighting my way to the exit. It covered my bed like a beam of sunshine – I could run out of this house and never look back. I could leave this bullshit behind, say: "fuck it," and start a new life as a hermit.

I could.

But I couldn't do that to Greyson. I couldn't find it in myself to leave him behind.

Francis bent forward and searched my eyes was a skeptical expression. "It must have been quite the dream," he said slowly.