Courtship with Phantasos

A young woman struggling with surrealistic nightmares, finds herself lost in another world.

Valerie sits exhausted and weary on the edge of her bed, afraid of falling asleep. Her head yearns for the soft down pillow, her eyelids reach for each other hoping to embrace the heavy slumber just beyond the eyelash's reach. She slouches, her head nods heavily struggling to keep her neck stiff. She gives in to her covers warmly embracing her as a mother would lovingly take her infant into her arms.

Her long auburn hair creates waves glistening like water in the pale moon light beaming through the curtains. Every muscle in her body goes flaccid, her breathing becomes passive. Within moments, Valerie’s eyes under her eyelids rapidly move from side to side. She tosses and moans, while a nightmare grips her mind.

 

Black clouds circle in her bedroom like a hurricane with the ceiling fan as the eye of the storm. The walls of the room are ripped apart by the violent wind disappearing into the blackness. Valerie struggles against the storm holding steadfast to the covers fighting the terrifying storm. The ceiling fan above her rises higher and higher, vanishing into the eye of the storm.

 

Valerie discovers arms materialize from the mattress grabbing hold of her whole body. Two hands pull back on her hair. She attempts to scream, realizing she has no control of her voice. The bed becomes liquid, arms pulling her into the depths of a watery grave. She feels her body sink into a freezing liquid, struggling and gasping for air before her head is pulled into blackness.

 

Valerie wakes from her night terror by the freezing temperature. She immediately sits up in a desperate gasp of air reaching for the covers, instead clutching a tuft of grass. She opens her eyes in shock, wondering why there is grass on her bed. To her dismay she discovers she is no longer in her bed. By the light of the moon, she makes the horrifying realization that she is laying in the middle of a cemetery.

 

Her heart sinks in her chest, her breath stolen from her, trembling uncontrollably wondering how in the hell she wound up in a cemetery. She frantically looks around, trying to rationalize why she would be here, concluding it must still be a dream. She comes to her senses, attempting to calm herself down saying, “This isn’t real, it’s not real. It’s just a dream. I’ll just wake myself up. This is only a dream, I’m just dreaming…”

 

She grabs a twig lying beside her, looks at her left arm and whispers, “I can wake myself up by stabbing myself. The pain will make me wake up.”

 

“OUCH!” she shouts dropping the sharp twig.

 

A warm drip slowly trickles down the cold skin of her arm. Touching the drop, even in the pale moonlight, she knows that the dark and sticky fluid is her blood. She comes to terms with reality and her strange circumstances, she is indeed awake and of all places in the middle of a strange cemetery on a cold night.

 

The cemetery is ancient. The lapidary headstones have been eroded by time, erasing their names and dates from their faces. Dozens of ornate headstones, mausoleums and obelisks surround her like a stone city in the darkness. The air is bone chilling cold, resembling an early winter night before the snow embraces the landscape. The atmosphere is still, not a hint of a breeze or a wisp of movement in the air. The silence is also unnerving, no chirping of crickets, rustling of the leaves in the trees, or the movement in the blades of grass made by insects.

 

Valerie comes to her feet, nervously looking around for any sign of life or civilization. She starts walking towards what to her seems like an entrance. As she walks past the headstones, two eroded marble angels with their wings outstretched stand perched above a pair of mausoleums, turn their heads slowly as Valerie walks past them. The forest surrounding the cemetery is ominously dark, making her decision difficult; do I leave the cemetery and the little light I have from the moon or venture into the darkness. Her eyes swell with tears and jaw quivers uncontrollably unsure if it’s from the paralyzing cold or the intense fear overcoming her entire body.

 

“Hellooooo…..” she shouts into the darkness of the trees with a quiver in her voice. Her voice echoes of the stones vanishing into the darkness, hoping for any response. No response. Confusion, fear and desperation infect her mind, reacting like a toddler who’s lost her parents. She can almost hear her heart pounding loudly in her chest. Her breath mists her vision with every exhale. The satin camisole and shorts pajamas offer no defense from the cold.  Wrapping her arms around herself, she decides to walk down a path into the darkness in search for what brought her to this place. The crunching from her bare feet on the leafy ground echoes between the trees.

 

“This is not funny! If I ever catch who did this to me, I’m gonna kick your a*s!” She tries hard to hold back the tears screaming into the night.

 

Walking down the dark path for about 20 minutes, there is not a soul in sight, no sound that would relieve her fear and frustration, nor an end to the darkness. Something moves behind some trees to her right. She immediately stops looking towards the towering trees. She stands staring into the dark for a minute. Nothing.

 

“Who’s there?” she faintly whimpers. Thinking to herself, ‘C’mon Val, you’re just imagining things. There’s nothing there. But just in case, I better run.’

 

She breaks into a sprint down the same path. After another 20 minutes she slows down enough to catch her breath. Again there is movement behind the trees to her left. Out of the corner of her eye she catches a mist, quickly evaporating into nothing. She turns searching for what moves in the night, paralyzed by the notion that she is being followed. Even though exhausted and breathless, she sprints down the path towards a clearing.

 

From behind the trees on both sides of the path, dozens of heads peek out watching her run away. Instantly dozens of dark and shadowy figures move quickly behind the tree line. They are nothing more than torsos of what may have once been human; burnt and charred by what could have been a grand fire. In spite of not having any legs, they appear to swim rapidly above the surface of the ground using their frail charred arms. The heads are nothing more than skulls covered thinly in blackened flesh, still showing the expressions of pain and agony of when they suffered their fiery deaths.

 

Valerie comes to the clearing putting her hands on her knees panting intensely catching her breath. She notices she is staring at cobble stone pavement under her bare feet. She looks up astonished by the structure before her. A grand Cathedral stands, dilapidated and battered by time.

 

The two spires on either side of the entrance tower high into the night sky. The sparse clouds glide slowly like ghosts around the stone pinnacles. Statues of once holy patriarchs stand perched in soffits guarding over the partially crumbled walls. Their faces have also been eroded by the elements, giving them an evil visage. The baroque architecture and gothic embellishments furthers the ominous feeling in Valerie, who now wonders if she should have left the cemetery.

 

Shivering in the freezing cold, she hopes to find something to warm herself in this once holy sanctuary. She begins to walk slowly towards the entrance, which to her looks like a giant skull, with arms reaching high into the sky. Before walking between the tall marble columns, she cautiously steps over shards of colored glass from the immense stained glass window, shattered with portions still loosely clinging to the lead frame.

 

Once inside the Cathedral, her surroundings are aglow with a multicolored halo from the moonlight through the stained glass that still grips its frame. Rows of enormous columns stretch in three directions. Faded frescoes decorate the walls and parts of the dome ceiling that have not crumbled. The forest has begun to reclaim its domain, with trees taking root within its walls. This holy hall has lost its battle against the elements and the test of time.

 

Deciding on walking towards the pulpit at the end of the grand hall, she yells, “Anyone here?” The word 'here' echoes endlessly disappearing into the darkness.

 

The silence is unnerving. Her nerves are beyond frayed, becoming nauseous and weak. She can feel herself loosing grip of her consciousness. ‘No! Stay awake, Val. Don’t lose it here’. She slaps herself forcefully on her cheeks.

 

After a few minutes of carefully walking around crumbled ceiling and collapsed columns, she stands in the middle of the great dome before the pulpit. She looks up at the dome supports stretched high above her like an enormous rib cage of some giant creature. The ceiling long since collapsed opens to the bright moonlit sky.

 

Standing in the center of the great dome, she doesn’t notice the dozens of burnt torsos now rapidly crawling around her, keeping to the shadows. Her daze is shattered by five of these ghastly creatures rapidly crawl in through the open ceiling. She screams loudly, echoing within the walls. She turns to make a run for the entrance, but immediately stops discovering she is surrounded completely by these horrid monstrosities taking their place between the ruins around her.

 

“Stay the f**k away from me!” she screams, gazing at all the creatures surrounding her.

 

She focuses on one in particular, who oddly grows legs and stands up. As soon as it walks into the light, it manifests itself as her grandfather. Her jaw drops in shock, unsure if she should stand still or run to him. His frail cadaverous old frame slowly limps towards her.

 

“Grandpa? Is it really you?” she asks with her voice shivering full of emotion, stepping off some rubble she had defensively perched herself on.

 

He doesn’t respond, continuing his approach. He walks up to her, pale skinned and lifeless eyes, attempting to say something to her. He opens his mouth, jaw shivering, but no noise exits his throat. Valerie begins to tear uncontrollably reaching for his face, “Grandpa, I’ve missed you so much.”

 

Just before she reaches his face, his right hand flies rapidly, forcefully grabbing her face. His cold bony fingers pry her jaw open. Still expressionless, raises his other hand towards her face. She stands paralyzed in shock, fear and confusion watching her one of the most beloved persons in her life back from the dead, violently subjecting her to this horror.

 

In his hand, a small glowing white orb appears forcing it into her mouth. With one finger, he pushes it past her tongue to the back of her throat. She gags and swallows. She screams loudly slapping his hands off her face, falling to her knees. She shuts her eyes tightly moaning between dry heaves. The orb makes its way down her throat, painfully searing her mouth, down through her chest and finally to her stomach. All the fearful emotions she had been experiencing are drowned by the burning pain deep in her abdomen. She starts coughing uncontrollably, vomiting phlegm through her mouth and nostrils. In that instant she feels a warm tongue lick her cheek. She jumps in fright, falling on her back. Opening her eyes she sees a Labrador lovingly jump on her lap continuing his lapping.

 

‘I recognize you’, looking around confusedly. The burning pain in her stomach is instantly gone. She is in her friend’s back yard, a few houses down from her home. Coming to her feet, she looks around recognizing her surroundings. She’s home. The dog stands up on his hind legs resting his paws on her waist licking her left arm.

 

“Ouch!” she whispers looking at a fresh bleeding wound on her left arm.

 

She sighs in relief and goes to the rock wall, nimbly jumping over. The dog stands against the rock wall wagging its tail, while she quietly walks down the dark alley towards her house. She keeps to the shadows hoping no one has noticed her in her nightwear.

She mumbles, "I need to invest in some sleeping pills. This is bullshit."

Author's Note

This is an experiment with another book I will write after I complete my first novel. Hope you enjoy this. Give me any constructive criticism. I'm always looking to better my technique.