A monster emerges from the shadows. He is followed by another, and another, until the world is inhabited by new beasts of its own creation. This anthology incorporates stories from various genres and timelines, exploring what makes us who we are.
We travel as if underwater, and my mouth opens but a voice won't come.
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"I drearmt like ya," reminisced Amos May on his patio before he was a spirit. "I drearmt o' futures."
Geese waddled by.
"Er, what?" I chewed a lily stem.
He flared his nostrils. "Drearms only the unseern can seer." Only the unseen can see. "Drearms o' ervernts unknern." Events unknown. "Futures knern to the hurtin'." Known to the hurting. "Drearms, girl. Drearms."
My eyes widened. "Visions?"
Old Amos May smiled.
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The unicorn jerks, half-flinging me off it, but I clutch its mane.
Lights wink in the darkness.
Stars?
Fairies?
Elves.
The glowing creatures race alongside us, fast and slick as deer, and illuminate our path. While there is no ground in this void, the unicorn I ride seems to be moving on a level plane.
"Amos—gah!" My voice returns nasally as a kazoo. "Amos M—ungh!"
If this darkness won't thin ahead, will we find our way back to Jericho?
The elves leading us zigzag. Their radiant bodies stripe the void like tailed meteors, and who could've frightened them except the beast?
He emerges from the direction we journey toward, collides with us, and sends us twirling.
Our adversary won't relent.
Elves leap onto the beast, splashing him with light. My unicorn advances, driving its horn deep into the monster's ribs. He snarls, and his knees crack.
