A Messenger from Nephelokokkygia

A Bagful of Eyeballs

Chapter 24: A Bagful of Eyeballs

"Oh, he's a wicked man who comes to little children who won't go to bed and throws handfuls of sand into their eyes, so that they jump out of their heads all bloody; and he puts them into a bag and takes them to the half moon as food for his little ones."

--E.T.A. Hoffman, "The Sand-Man"

As a being that never sleeps (unless you count being knocked unconscious from lack of air), Bennu freely volunteered to stand guard over the others. "I reserve the right, however, to wake any of you as I deem fit. To keep me company, sing me songs, tell me stories, argue philosophy, praise my beauty."

Grace nodded at Bennu's little joke as she nestled her head against Goldtalon's warm tummy, but was not really listening. Everyone else had already passed out.

Sandy tundra was nobody's ideal place to take a nap. Nevertheless, between heavy coats and Bennu's heat, it seemed manageable. But to generate warmth, the phoenix stressed himself. Pushing too long without a recharge of cinnamon would eventually put him out entirely. They could easily freeze before reaching the Easter Bunny's castle.

Bennu woke them sooner than expected. His dark plumage had turned scarlet. He said nothing to Grace. His panic was conveyed by nudges and twitches. He pointed his beak insistently at a corner of the crater. Among the broad shadows cast by a plateau, one drifted into the vicinity of their impromptu camp.

On second thought, not a shadow. Like Adamson, it possessed just enough depth. The figure's dark impression came from it wearing some sort of black cape and hood. It looked roughly the height of an adult man, perhaps six feet.

"Wake up! Run!" Bennu finally screeched. "Everyone, get away!" His red feathers flashed.

"What's happening?" Diana slurred from grogginess.

Aside from Bennu, the only light came from Schrodinger's eyes. "A Sandman? The only decent excuse to wake to cat!"

"You know about these things?" Fox punched herself up from the dust.

"So you don't have to!" Schrodinger replied.

Only Goldtalon remained asleep.

Schrodinger called the creature a "Sandman" but nursery rhymes had not prepared Grace for what approached. She would rather take the half-elephant, half-tiger from Yokai-Town if she truly wished for restful sleep. This Sandman was straight from a nightmare. It (for she could not well call the monster "he") walked on two skeletal legs. Like some fowls, its feet had spurs on the heels. Extra joints at the knees let it bend in ways no human form could. Its lengthy arms similarly featured too many joints. Its hands had too few digits. When the black cloak swished aside for a moment, Grace saw a second pair of arms, slightly smaller and thinner.

Grace failed to get a clear look at the monster's face. She felt grateful, knowing (somehow, in the way one can instinctively know something in a dream without needing to be told) if she looked the creature fully in the face, she would go insane and never recover. Seeing its body was more than enough. For Grace and her stomach.

Under the cloak, the Sandman wore nothing. In places, it had reptilian scales. In others, the shell of a beetle. Its color was sick jaundice. The parts exposed by rips in the cape were full of pores, sucking air and gasping out yellow dust.

The attack happened almost too quickly for Grace to respond. The top pair of hands reached for her, but she ducked to the side. Another cold claw tugged the side of her cheek, its palm sounding like a vacuum. Even knowing she should struggle, the leaking sand made her very badly wish to fall asleep.