In a distant garage

I really can't think of a good title! Anyways, short story based on a dream I had a few days ago.

The evening sun flowed heavily through the garage window, determined to get as much heat out before the night crushed it under the horizon. Had it peeked in the window, it may have been surprised to see the light toned foot tall doll pinned against a suspended particle board. Long, viscous sewing needles pierced his limbs, but every calculated writhe slowly drew him towards freedom. The wooden table below caught him faithfully. He struggled to his feet awkward, the heavy needles throwing him off balance; fortunately they slid easily out of the firm cloth that made up his arm. Tossing them aside, he jumped to the floor, narrowly dodging as the needles rolled and fell towards him. In the middle of the room lay his prize, his sword carelessly discarded by his keeper. It was a toothed black metal crescent mimicking the dark side of the moon. The dying sun fondled it ominously in soft red light. The door cracked open, a simple old woman stepping in. They locked eyes, a sharp sneer splitting his face as he charged screaming of his impending victory.

* * *

I stepped through the door to the garage, unwilling to believe my eyes as they followed the small wave my step had made in the pooling blood. The wave traveled freely back to its source to the face down woman at the pool’s source. Her right arm lay outreached; I imagined her crawling into her last moments of life. She was not alone; a broken man lay slumped over the table. His skin was growing pale; I knew he would be changing soon. I helped him to his feet; he struggled weakly in a semi conscious state, though it took little effort to force his eyes upon the woman’s corpse.

“See what darkness did to your sister.” I explained coolly.

* * *

     The doll reared back with his sword, heat and light conglomerating into a ball of fire within its deadly crescent. The woman fell to her knees, fingers clasped in prayer as she spoke softly under her breath. The sword struck, echoing with the hollow resonance of defeat. He tried again with no success, every strike bouncing off, fruitless as trying to cut diamonds into snow with a wooden stick.

* * *

     I pulled the broken man into the corner, allowing him to sit in my lap and lean on my chest. He was cold to the touch, the vessels in his body freezing solid and blue, small lumps of ice collecting under his skin. His time was drawing to an end. He was changing, denizens of people like him outside crawling in the mud. They brushed up against the walls of the garage, blade like limbs clacking as they milled about on the outer concrete walk. Lightning flashed and panicked clacking poked through the wavy blanket of thunder. I smiled, imagining them scattering like roaches fleeing a flashlight. It was time for him to join the others, he remained calm as I too him to the window. I opened it, the rain reaching in begging me to come out and play. With a great heave I committed his body to the outside world. The pale man floundered in the mud as his body bucked and heaved. I couldn’t bear to watch, returning to my dark corner, idling as my thumbs mindlessly orbited each other in endless repletion, it was all I had for the night ahead.