Sweet Dreams

• Ann Joseph, Grade 10
• Short Story
• 2022

Darkness hung over him like the night’s black, starless cloak. Eli was transported to a faded memory of his childhood. Firmly grasping a splintered paintbrush, erratically brushing away at a scrap of weathered paper until a figure was formed without any thoughts. Drops of murky rain fell from the drab sky onto the seemingly shapeless figure, bleeding a dark liquid across the paper. Among all Eli’s painted creations, this one made a recurring appearance. This one was the only one he could not explain. He could not find the source of his inspiration, and he almost wished not to. He had spent countless sleepless nights resisting the urge to shut his eyes and drift into the void, in an attempt to avoid the imminent dreams. For he sensed that with each dream, the hold that this creature had on him grew more powerful. Eli knew that he had unintentionally brought forth a terrible unholiness into his world.

Over the years, Eli’s purposeful sleep deprivation had become second nature. His body, although frail, had adapted to the routine. Don’t sleep. Such is the beauty of the human body; with all it can endure.
His thoughts were interrupted by the cawing of black crows on the windowsill, and his reddened eyes, previously unaware of his surroundings, shot to attention. Eli gingerly stood and placed his steps carefully, making his way outside. He only had to push the door slightly ajar. An almighty gust of glacial wind forced it open the rest of the way.

On a patch of frozen earth Eli stood, resting his eyes on the luminous rays of the waning moon as the unforgiving winds battered his face. The fearful cawing of the crows drew his attention. They scattered, a flurry of glossy black against the backdrop of the starless night sky. But what caused them to flee? He didn’t drive them away. Deciding it was of no significance, he returned inside.

In an ancient, shattered mirror, Eli caught a glimpse of his angular visage as he walked past the door. Darkened under-eyes starkly contrasted with translucent skin. Every drop of youthful vitality had seemingly dissipated. The shards of glass were reminiscent of the fragments of his broken spirit.

He lowered his body onto the hard ground. Eli was restless, periodically shifting himself. For he feared that stillness might stir the figure that lurked in his mind. He feared that finally, consciousness would slip from his body. Once more, the images of his childhood played in his mind. Black brush strokes. Torn paper. Dark liquid seeping.

His exhaustion caught up. He fought. Silence. A black cloaked figure emanated from the earth. Black as the shroud of the starless night. A translucent, cracked porcelain face set with dark, glassy eyes that welled with a black fluid. The inhuman face hid in the folds of the cloak.
Eli jolted awake, catching a gasp before it escaped his lips. Liquid dripped from his cheeks onto his shirt. A drop of black.