The Clearing: Origins

Chapter 16

That night, Victor stood in the clearing with himself as a child, rolling in the grass on what appeared to be a warm summer day. The grinning boy sat up, wiggling his little toes at Victor.

"I couldn't sleep, so I was reading on the bloody sofa," Victor muttered, stalking over to the boy.

The child looked up at him with his green eyes, the sight unsettling. "You're so tired." A big smile spread across the small face. "But I'm jolly glad when I see you, even though you shouldn't be here."

Victor sat down on the grass. "You're being cryptic again, mate."

The little boy giggled, then his face grew somber. "May I ask a question?" One little finger began rooting in his nose as if digging for treasure. Sighing, Victor removed the finger with a slight shake of his head. It proved that little kids were the same no matter where they were.

Even in nightmares.

Victor tweaked his nose. "What is it, little man?"

"Are you afraid of the magic getting out?" Little Vic's nose wrinkled.

"Yes." Victor plucked a grass stem as he sought how to explain it to himself. "I worry about controlling it."

The child rose and began hopping on one foot. "Will you start acting superior like the magi if it gets out?"

Victor tossed the grass away. "The last thing I want to be is like the magi."

The child launched himself at Victor, who yelped as they both tumbled backward on the carpet-like grass.

"Oi, you're a lively one." Victor ruffled the shaggy curls before peeling Little Vic off and propping him on his feet, where he immediately began to twirl. "You talk in riddles, but I adore you."

I guess I am vain since he's me.

"Do you talk to the tutelary deity, Big Vic?"

"Sort of. It'd be rude to frequent the clearing without at least saying hello." Victor smiled. "It's not chatty, though."

The little boy turned faster. "You should ask Carys about that."

Victor's eyes widened. That name. It struck a chord, but again, he failed to bring the elusive person into focus. "You know Carys? Can you tell me about him... or her, little man?"

The child giggled. "I'm not good at explaining. Ask the tutelary deity."

"The deity doesn't converse with me. A word here or a feeling there." Victor felt the frustration building. "How do I get it to tell me?"

"I dunno. Maybe ask Carys?"

"Thanks," said Victor, his voice flat and unamused.

"I'm doing my bestest to help and keep my word." Little Vic continued turning around and around in circles.

Victor opened his mouth to question the child when the winds picked up, rustling the maple tree's leaves. Like his previous dreams, the sky darkened, and the clouds rolled in, turning the bright of day into the dimness of dusk.

Little Vic sighed. "Drat and double doo-doo. We never get enough time."

After so many dreams with confusing conversations, Victor decided he'd stop the mite from leaving. He'd read online about changing the ending of the recurring nightmares so the dream would no longer be threatening. Perhaps taking the initiative would stop the nightmare disorder.

"The patterns matter." The child turned his green eyes toward Victor, who stood ready to catch him when he ran. " And don't come alone if you want to take the initiative."