Nightmare II

I’m on a beach. It’s grey, literally; the sand, the sea and the sky are all grey, and there’s a mist that makes it hard to see anything more than a few meters away. There’s hardly any light since the sun’s completely covered by the clouds, so it’s impossible to tell the time of the day. I’m alone.

I don’t like being alone, especially in a place like this. I keep walking along the silver sand, listening to the constant sound of waves. I can’t hear any birds; I can’t hear anything but the waves. It terrifies me.

Finally, I can see the shape of a person in the distance. As I move closer, I see it’s a girl, dressed in a simple white dress. She notices me at the same time and starts walking towards me.
I stop. There is an unexpected fear to see that I’m not alone. In horror movies and in my worst nightmares, to be alone would be a blessed thing, considering you don’t know if the other person is human. I don’t have anything I can defend myself with, no way which I protect myself. Finally, I pick up a handful of sand. I can always throw it at her face and run if she attacks me.
She stops in front of me. “Hello,” she says.

Up close, I can see that she’s pretty. Her skin’s white and smooth like a porcelain tea cup, just how I would like mine to be. Her large eyes are green, like wet jade. She’s got aristocratic cheekbones and a pointy sort of chin. Her long black hair contrasts against her skin and dress, her limbs are long and thin. She’s like an anime character to life; just the kind of person I’d love to draw.

“Hello,” I answer, conscious of her cool gaze appraising me. “Where are we?”

“I don’t really know,” she says, shrugging. “I just woke up and found myself here.”

I sigh in relief. “Me too.” At least we’re in the same boat.

“It’s a pretty place though, isn’t it?” she says.

It takes me only a second to realize what she means. Now that my fear has abated, I can admire the misty beach, the way the sand under my feet sparkles like there are handfuls of miniature diamonds, the different shades of grey in the sky; silver, blue grey, ash, charcoal, slate…

“Yeah, it is,” I agree.

“D’you want to keep walking?” she asks. I nod, and walk beside her.

The sound of the waves is no longer terrifying, but calm and soothing. We talk, just a little, to break the silence.

“Look,” she suddenly says, pointing.

I squint, trying to see past the mist.

It’s a cliff. Quite a tall one too. It’s sides are jagged and worn, from the constant spray of the waves.

“I bet if we climb up there, we’ll be able to see how far this beach stretches. Maybe we can figure out a way to get out of here,” she says.

“If we can even see through this damned fog,” I say.

We resume walking.

“What do you do for fun?” she asks me.

“Erm. I write? Sort of.”

“Really? What about?”

“Fanfictions, mostly. I don’t have the talent or the patience to create a whole world. Or original characters of my own. Usually I just – I’m sorry, I’m boring you.” She wasn’t interested in my private fantasies. Not to mention that they were private.

“No, no. Go on.” She smiles gently, her eyes sparkling. Why, oh why can some people look so beautiful? It wasn’t fair.

“Erm, yeah. Fanfics. The character I come up with is usually like the trigger to the entire story. Like why so-and-so killed who, and why some other person did what he did. And the character – usually it’s a girl – has a bunch of guys falling in love with her, or lusting for her or something. It’s a little Mary-sueish, fine, more than a little the character, well, the one I’ve been using is too perfect.”

“So do you see yourself as her?”

I’m startled. “No, not at all. Eva – the character – is well, everything that I’ll like to be. Someone strong. Someone that people would actually want and love.”

We’re at the foot of the cliff now. “C’mon,” she say s when I stop to gape at it.

“I’m not in the best of shape,” I warn her.

“Don’t worry, I’ll wait for you.”

Lucky for me, we don’t have to climb or scale anything; there’s a path that winds around the cliff gently. It’s quite easy to walk.

“What are your stories like?” she suddenly asks.

“Bad,” I reply immediately and she laughs.

“That’s what every write thinks,” she says.

“I suppose I’m of above average quality,” I say, trying not to sound too modest or arrogant at the same time. “At least my sentences are mostly cohesive and I do have basic grammar, paragraphing, and what not. But I’ve still got a lot to learn.”

“At least you know your strengths,” she smiles. “But no. My question was: What are your stories like? What are they about?”

“Love partly,” I say, flushing a little at the immaturity of it all. “I mean, every teenage girl likes some romance right? But my stories are usually dark, with blood gore, anger, hate, revenge; stuff like that. I usually end up killing the protagonist, and some other characters.”

“Why?”

“It’s the only way I know how to end a story.” I try to explain; it’s something I’ve never done before. “I mean, happy endings aren’t possible, not I real life. And the ending is usually bittersweet for the two lovers.”

“Bittersweet? How on earth do you manage that?” she asks.

“Do you think it’s a blessing to be killed by someone you love more than your life?” I ask. “If it would keep him safe? To protect him from yourself?”

“But you’re the writer. Why can’t you just take their problems away?”

“Sometimes it doesn’t work like that. It doesn’t make sense for the characters if I made it easy for them. It’s like the characters make their own decisions from the paper.”

We’re at the top of the cliff. The mist here seems even thicker than it was on the ground.

“Damn,” I mutter. Breathing if harder here too, whether from the mist or the altitude, I have no idea. And we can’t see anything. “Looks like we came up here for nothing.”

“No, not nothing,” she says.

The mist seems to be clearing slightly. There is a fresh breeze, bringing with it the tang of salt. I can feel my mouth drop as I glimpse the thousands of stars in the sky as the mist parts.

“It’s beautiful,” I murmur.

“Isn’t it?” she smiles sadly. “At least you gave me such a place to die in.”

Oh God, no. Why didn’t I see this earlier? “You’re Eva,” I say. It’s not a question.

She nods. Her face is both lovely and grave, “Why? Why did you kill me?”

I take an instinctive step back. “I didn’t kill you. Chase did – “

“Only because you made him!” she screams.

Her face twists in rage, she raises her hands, her fingers curled into claws.

“It’s YOUR fault!” she shrieks. “IT’S ALL YOUR FAULT!”

I open my mouth to try to defend myself, but nothing comes out.

“Eva, I – “

“I’m not the only one angry at you.”

I feel my blood freeze. What kind of a hell is this?

There’s the sound of clanking chains, then something shoots out of the darkness. I glimpse the flash of metal, and then there’s a searing pain on my cheek. I feel hot blood drip down, and then there’s another flash of metal as whatever had hit me retracts.

“Damn, I missed,” a deep voice grumbles.

And they all emerge. A man in the dull orange robes of a monk, bald, save for the long plait of black hair that hangs like a rope pas this shoulders. He carries a gleaming spear, its tip stained with blood. There’s a woman with a mane of red hair, her scarlet lips spread in a cruel smile. A small Japanese girl, her hair in piglets. A big-sized blonde boy with a cowboy hat. A boy with dark eyes and a darker smile. Another boy, a little one, with a huge round head.

All those I killed in my fanfictions. And behind them, I can see the gleam of more eyes and metal, bodies shuffling and clamoring in the darkness for revenge. More people I’d killed.

“You’re not real,” I breathe. “You’re just figments of my imagination. You don’t exist.” I’m trying to convince myself all that, trying to wake up.

With a shriek of fury, tinged with more than a little madness, Eva leaps at me, pushing me down on the ground, her hands wrapping around my throat.

“Can you feel this?” she screams. “Can you? If we were just figments of your wonderful imagination, you wouldn’t feel anything, would you?” Her grip tightens, I can’t breathe. There are black spots in my vision, a roaring in my ears. I don’t want to die, not like this.
Then, miraculously, she lets go. I take a gulp of blessed air, then a second and a third. I catch sight of Eva, and my heart stops.

She’s holding a dagger in her hand, her eyes glinting with insanity.

“I figured I’ll kill you the way you killed me,” she said, a smile playing on her lips. “Do you remember how you killed me? The first time, a stab in the heart. And the second, you actually had my heart ripped out of my chest.

“Oh, not to mention you had Guan’s intestines ripped out. Wuya had her face smashed in list goes on and on, Miss I’m such a great writer.”

She leans over me, and then grabs my skull, smashing it on the rocky ground, again and again and again. I scream, a wordless roar of fear and pain.

“Keep screaming!” Eva screeches. “No one’s going to rescue you!”

Who would help me, I wondered. There had to be one person, one who hadn’t suffered, one I hadn’t tortured; only it was so hard to think with the pain.


“Stop it Eva, we want to do – “ Wuya starts.

“Shut up!” Eva screams and she stops smashing my head. “She’s mine. Mine. I’ll kill you if you dare get in my way!”

They back away, afraid. God, what have I created?

Eva turns back to me, panting. That’s when I remember. Someone I’ve never killed.

“Chase!” I scream his name, praying, praying he can hear me. “CHASE! HELP ME!”

Eva throws back her head and laughs. “Chase? Sorry to disappoint you, but he’s not coming.”

Finally, I start crying, hot tears streaming down my cheeks.

“I gave him everything,” I whisper pathetically. “Everything. Power. Immortality. Riches.”

“You made him cruel,” she reminds me. “And cruel he is.” She brings down the knife, pausing over my heart for a fraction of a second to hear me sob.

“Scream and cry all you want,” she hisses. “Chase isn’t going to save you.”

End

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I dreamt this. I really did. Eva was in the process of ripping my intestines out when I woke up, and for a few minutes, I couldn't move.

I've killed her so many times and still she won't leave me alone.