Memories of the Reaper

Chapter One

"It's just a dream. It can't hurt you," Derek Grey muttered as he walked uphill through the forested mountains of rural Virginia. The fog curled around his limbs, attempting to restrain him from his current path. The whispering trees surrounded him, gnarled spires twisting upward, their branches sharpened like broken scythes. Derek shivered. "It's just a dream. It can't hurt you," the boy repeated as his voice quivered, the stirrings of long dormant fear clutching his shoulders and straddling his back.

Hurt you, the fog echoed.

A single crow, larger than any he had seen before, manifested on a branch above him. Its beak dripped with crimson as it cocked its head toward him, examining him with one eye, a dark orb glistening with interest. Remaining silent, the crow's stare followed him as he traveled through the fog, and it unnerved him. "It's just a crow," he whispered as he walked past it.

The crow faded into the fog without a response.

Derek walked farther along the familiar path as his hands fidgeted with the straps of his backpack. "You need to get a hold of yourself," the boy whispered. "If you keep acting like this, people are going to start thinking you're crazy."

What if I am? a voice replied in the back of his mind.

"You're not—"

Crack!

Derek stopped, his heart pumping.

Hidden by the fog, something sifted through the underbrush toward him. Derek's hand closed around the pocketknife in his waistband and flicked it open as he crouched. The creature gained speed. His palms dripped with sweat. The fog parted. A grey streak of motion lashed toward him. An image of sharpened claws, jagged teeth, and feral eyes waiting to spill his blood. Derek jumped backward and cut the air with his knife. He missed it by several inches. Derek swept down for a second attack but stopped as the squirrel watched him without fear, its large round eyes wide with curiosity. "It's only... a squirrel," Derek breathed as the harmless creature scampered between his legs and into the fog behind him. "Christ," he groaned. "I'm losing it."

Derek took a moment to compose himself, shaking his head while putting the knife away. "If you pull this kind of shit at school, they're gonna send you away to a mental institution."

Maybe they should, his brain argued. Maybe they'll give you enough prescriptions to keep you from dreaming. Wouldn't that be nice?

"You know pills only make it worse—make my dreams even more vivid," Derek growled and the voice went silent. With the danger having passed, Derek allowed himself to smile. He rested his back against a tree trunk. "Besides, it was only a squirrel. See? No harm here. Just—"

In the distance there was the surprised chattering of a squirrel, the sound of scrambling in the underbrush, a high pitched screech, and then... nothing.

"A squirrel..." Derek finished as the smile dropped from his lips. He pressed himself away from the tree and began walking, wincing with each crunch of a leaf underfoot. There was an echo to his movements that wasn't there before, the sound of mimicry. Derek stopped, and a moment later, so did the echo.

"It's following me," he whispered.

It's the shadow, a voice in his head added.

The idea sent sweat running down his back. "No... It can't be. It's not possible."

Run, Derek. Run away before it catches you.

Derek took an experimental step forward. Another. Crunch-crunch. The audible echo followed soon behind.