The Book of Ineffable Dreams

11.03.23

0958 hours

A/N: Up until you see this bad boy - 😴 - the dream takes place with the Forger family (Spy x Family) as the main characters. The dream played as if I was seeing it through Anya's eyes.

TRIGGER WARNING: mention of multiple murders, non-graphic description of corpse, slight mention of blood, non-graphic violence

- - - - -

Anya had recently transferred from Eden Academy due to Loid getting a new job. I'd assumed it was an important one, seeing as he'd be working with the mayor, Lockwood.

When the Forgers arrived at the mayor's manor, they were met with the mayor's young son and a little girl with long brown hair. Anya and the little girl were given cartoonishly-large bright pink hair ribbons.

* * * * *

Mayor Lockwood's Manor, Years Later

It'd been years since Anya had seen any of her friends from Eden Academy. During that time, Loid had grown a scruffy-looking moustache.

Anya had misbehaved, being loud and rude while they were visiting Mayor Lockwood.

"You would think she'd learn after all these years." Yor sighed, pressing a hand to her forehead.

Loid had been having dinner with Mayor Lockwood, who was a golden-haired lion (a bit like Mayor Lionheart from 'Zootopia').

Somewhere in the Forgers' house was a bright pink bow.

😴😴😴😴😴

Earlier in the day, my dad and I had received a call from Mayor Lockwood's house. It'd been about his daughter-in-law, the not-so-little girl with long brown hair. She'd been found dead.

The girl was lying on her back. Her face was frozen in an expression of shock and horror. She was dressed in a red pants suit and had her hair pulled back by the large pink bow. Her hair, strangely enough, seemed immaculate despite the fact that it seemed like she had fallen suddenly to the hardwood floor, her body as stiff as a mannequin. Her skin was pale and her pale blue eyes were wide. A trail of blood trickled out of her mouth.

* * * * *

My dad walked with me to the scene. He was an old man with an almost fully grey head of hair. His skin looked rough; tanned and wrinkled.

We'd received a call about two murders at a small suburban house. The house had layers of light-coloured panels for walls. Bright yellow light was flooding onto the front lawn.

The victims had been the mother of the lone survivor as well as another man who'd been on the premises.

The sight of the survivor reminded me of Mayor Lockwood's daughter-in-law. The two girls looked eerily similar. From their pale face and long brown hair, down to the bright pink bow tied in their hair. The little girl's dress was light blue in colour and fell to her knees. I felt that the dress was old-fashioned; it almost reminded me of Alice's dress from Disney's 'Alice in Wonderland', sans the white apron. (I'll refer to the little girl as Alice, for convenience's sake.)

Alice was showing off a small blue car door. She claimed that her assailant had disappeared once he touched the handle.

I took the car door off her hands to examine it. I stood with my back to the house as I noted the door's features. The car door was blue and looked old. It was almost square in shape except for its bottom right corner which curved slightly inwards. The handle, strangely enough, was made of the same material as the bright pink bow that the girl and I each possessed. It'd been given a plastic backing to make it more firm to hold. The handle had been practically welded into the door.

Suddenly, a commotion arose not far from where Alice, my dad, and I were standing.

The assailant had returned.

My dad, Alice, and I rushed to the car with the broken door, scrambling underneath it. We huddled closer as the assailant approached.

"What is it? What does he want from us?" my dad exclaimed.

I was struck with the thought, "Why didn't we just get in the car?"

* * * * *

Later

Our trio had split up during our escape.

My dad and Alice had disappeared to somewhere else. I, unfortunately, was captured by a man. The assailant, I presumed.

The assailant reminded me of the angry guy, Douglas (played by John Malkovich), from 'Birdbox'. He was dressed like a stereotypical farmer, in red flannel and denim overalls.

My prison looked normal enough. It was much like a minimalist, albeit cramped, bedroom. Two beds, one each flush against opposite walls, and a desk in between the two headboards.

Douglas kept me bedridden. I'd been paralysed, barely able to move more than a couple metres.

I honestly don't remember what exactly he did to me. If he did anything at all. What I do remember are the prolonged stares he directed at me. He would always do so with a creepy grin that was less of a smile and more of an odd stretching of the mouth. That smile... it was always stretched so that he looked like he had no teeth. It filled me with such unease that I felt like sinking into the bed itself.

One day, I'd mustered the strength to drag my feet to the adjacent bed. I'd dropped a knife there a few days earlier. It'd slipped between a couple of pillows, hidden from view. It wasn't anything impressive. Just a simple kitchen knife. Its black handle was slim enough that my fingers curled over my thumb when I gripped it. It had a thin serrated blade that, honestly, felt like it could break if I jabbed it too deeply into something.

When Douglas next came, I blindly struck my hand out. He'd been standing next to where my head was. So, I only had a vague sense of where his leg was, based on what I could see of him from out the corner of my eye.

Still, I felt the knife dig in, straight into his bony thigh. Douglas cried out. Lucky for him, the knife hadn't gone in too deeply. It couldn't have been longer than the length between the tip of my fingernail and my knuckle.

Douglas didn't come in after that. He'd tossed my knife into its previous hiding spot: between the pillows on the other bed.

I was left alone then.

Until the next day, when I could hear sounds from the TV outside my room.

If Douglas was watching TV, then... this was my chance!

I'd found a phone and immediately dialled 911. The volume had been too loud so I'd muffled it by pressing the speaker against my pillow.

The 911 operator rattled off the usual spiel. Simultaneously, I dragged my body up and headed towards my knife. I could only hope that Douglas couldn't hear the operator, considering how close he was to my room. That the sounds from the TV would drown out the operator's voice.

I waited.

Douglas didn't come in and the lady on the TV didn't stop talking. So, I reached for my knife.

I hadn't even grazed the handle before I woke up.