April 29, 2003my private hannibal [dream]It was my own private Hannibal.
The house was old and eloquent, the type that had hallways and rooms that went on forever because back then they could afford that sort of thing. Antique furniture. Dark wood floors. Faded wallpaper. I had been here before. Everything that wasn't directly infront of me was out of focus in the shadows. I knew my way around. I knew what was going to happen.
They were supposed to kill me.
I lived here, I stayed here with them, and knew that one day they would kill me. It was the plan all along. Lead by him. Whomever "he" is. Or was. I didn't even know if the mastermind was behind it anymore, just that his dreams and plans kept on living. I called him Hannibal. Just because the house was so beautiful and held such poison within.
I knew I had to leave. I knew they were going to eat me.
The thought passed my mind they were zombies. That's it. The zombies had finally come. We had been preparing for it long enough. But that was a joke in reality - and this..... I don't know where this was. It wasn't reality anymore. Deep down, I knew it was just as deadly. Already I had begun running. Slipping through the cold hallways. Keeping in the shadows. I rounded a corner and there they were. Waiting. They knew I was coming.
That was the first time I was shaken awake. 'Chasing rabbits' sleepily mumbled from this strangely warm, naked body curled next to mine. Curling and cuddling closer. The touch of blanket heated skin absolutely searing mine. It smelled good. It felt good.
Then I was back in the hallway. Waking up didn't even save me. Fingers pinched and clutched at skin, desperate grabs to latch on tighter with broken nails and rotting skin. Tattered clothing (a pink dress, one little girl wore a pink dress) fluttered in the house's stale air. I kept kicking and punching. Backed against a wall it was all I could do to grab onto hair and keep gnashing teeth from connecting. The pain was so real. Once that happened, it was all over. And then they stopped. As if they were too tired to go on, so devoid of sustenance. I ran and ran and ran. Then another group found me.
Hands that invaded flesh were soon the ones that were shaking me awake, again.
She made me talk to her awhile, before going back to sleep. So I could find some connection with reality. 'You're still there' - she said.
I know.
It wasn't over yet. I wasn't even safe outside in the real world. We were at some park, some carnival, some faire, kicking it with friends in the bright and warm summer sun. Left to right I looked at them, content everybody was there to relax and have fun and a good time. Damon was there (but it didn't look like him). Trish and Jacen, too (but I don't even know what they look like to begin with). Somewhere, at another booth, in the carnival, getting something to come back: Lessa (but she didn't look the same, either) was with Mei (but I never saw her face, how do I know it was her?). Others, too, whom I couldn't name. My brother was going to meet us.
Something about cotton candy. Pink. Innocent. So sweet it melts in your mouth.
I learned I could recognize them now. Something happened to their mouths. I saw it with the others. They closed with mauled flesh, looking like nothing more than butchered and mangled meat that had been savaged by some more powerful force. My friends looked at me that way. Once moment they were there, smiling, gathering around the cotton candy someone brought - that wasn't Lessa. The next, their faces just.... changed. Their mouths fleshed over. Their bodies became gaunt. Brilliant colors of summer clothing (Damon, why are you suddenly wearing a Hawaiian shirt?) fading away like some forgotten dream, thinning and whispring on an invisable, unfeeling, wind. Their eyes became milky white, glacier blue, blind to whatever it was they were once able to see.
I fought them. Like the others, they grew tired. Disinterested? Just stopped.
I could feel it happening to myself. The sudden light feeling of weight draining away. The sudden craving. Increased heartrate (so desperate not to still and die). My jaw becoming immobile. My lips becoming numb. My hands tearing at the growing seal to claw it away before it was too late. Before I lost. I could feel the meat (?) disconnecting from my upper palete. It crackled and stretched and peeled away, pulling at my lips and gums and teeth. It burned. I didn't care, but it hurt and burned. I kept throwing skin to the ground, chunks of flesh and muscle and blood splattering on pavement; stomach heaving with the smell and knowledge that if I didn't do this....
Harsh words woke me to worried eyes. 'You're still THERE!' she said 'Wake up, come back to me.' I couldn't stay awake to talk to her this time. Even as I was telling her it was allright, I was awake, vision unfocused, I could feel myself falling backwards into that world and nothing I could do would stop it.
It was dark, now. Night fell as I stumbled back into this world. The old, gleaming, worn wood paneling the hallways walls was smooth and cool beneath my fingers. If I could only make it back to my room...
She was with me, I knew her name but couldn't remember it, painted in colors dull with time. Some old movie. Scratchy and skipping on the reel. Short hair fell to her chin, maybe a little past - it wasn't burgundy and it wasn't black, it was some color that mixed and matched between. It's too dark in here to tell. Her dress was black and white, the dress of an elementary schoolgirl's first funeral, even if she couldn't have been younger than sixteen: a little white collar, long black sleeves with dingey white cuffs, the buttons leading to the hem frayed about her knees didn't gleam anymore. She was so very sad. She was one of them. Walking beside me down the hallway. It was her job to kill me, tonight. Finally, because the others hadn't been able to yet and somehow, she captured me. Found me when I was too tired to keep fighting and running. She told me she didn't want to. I wanted to believe that earnest, pretty little face. The soulful eyes so dark compared to the others. Deep pools of molasses; sweet and deadly. She said she'd help me escape.
Sometimes she was so real, so solid and concrete and THERE. The deep colors beginning to leak back into her clothing and skin. Then something would happen, like passing through a shadow on the street, and I could see the skeleton beneath her clothing. I could see the hollowness in her eyes as she became nothing more than a wraithing dream.
I wanted to believe her. I wanted to reach out and accept her hand. I wanted to kiss those trembling lips. I wanted to think this wasn't a trick.
Even when the doors to the room, heavy wood polished like glass, were mutely closed - I wouldn't let her touch me. I wouldn't let her near me no matter how much it ached.
She invited herself anyway. Suddenly closing in. Suddenly pressing her body against mine. So frail yet so frighteningly strong. The handles of the door dug into my lower back. I couldn't understand how her breath across my lips was so warm and so chilling at the same time. The picture was still skipping on the reel, it wasn't smooth anymore, somehow the tracking was off but I couldn't push her away. The soundless words she was whispering didn't match the movement of her lips murmuring so close to mine. The softest apologies. Even in a house so rich with earthen browns, the only color that clung to her was that deep, bloody hair. I could feel the sharp points of needled nails digging into the outside my thighs and tearing ribbons of flesh away, and the fabric was unharmed. She was crying.
This time I woke myself with the screams.
-W
Posted by Wolf at April 29, 2003 11:10 AM
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