Wonderful Wishful Morning

Monnie Cafe

Whispers and laughter of the night filled the ears of a lonely young man. We'll call 'em Fred. Grasping for any sense of connection, he snuck around the diner, looking for someone-just anyone.

And there she was: a lady. She turned to look at Fred, her smile neither mocking nor off-the-walls happy, but oddly friendly.

This was his chance. Fred had a repertoire of jokes stored up-quite lame ones, but still. He greeted her and introduced himself. The lady looked away, then back, and introduced herself in an unfitting voice, one of multiple.

"Dulce Marine."

Fred's heart raced. He regained his composure and told one of his overused jokes. To his delight, the lady laughed, and Fred's nervousness eased. She examined him: red skin, casual attire-shorts and a basic tee. Perfect. But the red skin was an intriguing touch. She decided to play along.

"Oh, umm... Would you like to order?" he asked.

"Not hungry," Dulce replied.

"Ah, so you've probably already eaten," Fred guessed.

Dulce attempted to switch up the conversation. "Yeah, I'd rather do something fun."

Fred's wallet disagreed. "I'm kinda out of money..."

"But you-" Dulce began.

"Yes I know, but this diner's cheap," Fred interrupted.

The lady leaned in. "So, how's the family? If we go out again, we should meet them."

Fred hesitated. "I wouldn't... they wouldn't really approve of another girlfriend, not after my last one. I live alone, though."

Dulce's eyes glowed with opportunity. "So do I... Oh dear, look at the time. I should really get home; I usually make music around this hour."

Fred thought he'd hit the jackpot. Hastily, he offered her a ride, and she obliged.
Though Fred didn't question how she got there in the first place... without a ride...

VRRRRrrrr.

The used car hummed with whispers and laughter as it ascended a large hill. At the top stood the grand manor, imposing and mysterious. Fred watched in awe. Dulce got out of the car and walked toward it. Stopped. Turned. Then invited him in. The gate parted, and together they scaled the hill.

They reached the foyer doors, and Fred paused to examine the woman. Who was she, really? What secrets did she hold? The manor seemed to pulse with ancient energy.

Fred REALLY stopped to examine the woman.

A warm, baby blue, polka-dotted dress, childish eyes under burgundy red hair. Soft hands... Very soft arms... The same hands managed to open the opposing doors with ease. Whoosh. The darkness of the mansion seemed to swallow the car's headlights; it was almost pitch black. The center of the foyer was lit from a sunroof, allowing light to pass through.

The lady walked towards the light, stomped on the ground, and waited.

Click. Clack. Boom.

The vast room was revealed, music whispered, and the room harbored wonderful neon lights, drapes, fitting furniture, and animatronics stuck to the walls. Animatronics? A strange inclusion due to the current time; they were likely antiques but looked too clean and, like the lady herself, not that old, with the exception of a few that depicted other characters.

The obscure interests of hers definitely gave him a reason not to have recognized her as a 'music artist'. There was something that caught his mind: a book held by Plush 'Dulce Marines'. Wide smiles and cute eyes.

A specific line enticed him from the book: 'He is close to the broken-hearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.'

Fred was snapped out of his trance by a noise. Something had banged against a wall. The lady was gone. She might have been gone for a while, as if time had slipped by. The entrance doors must have slowly closed on their own; that wasn't the distinct noise.

His eye caught a door swinging back and forth slowly; it led to a hallway. He started to wander around the mansion and came upon a bedroom. It seemed as if no one even slept there. Ironically enough, the smells of perfume and cool temperature would put you straight to sleep.

Another Plush Dulce Marine sat upon the bed. The young man sat in the chair by the dresser. There was a poster with the signature: Blankie Drew. The photo depicted an old band: three men in masks and a kid in a distinct pineapple outfit. No clear theme among them. The first man had a drama mask, the second with a neon mask, and finally, the leader: a burgundy red man in a pig mask... He was shocked by the similarities in skin, though he was still getting tired, finding comfort in the photo.

Like he had reunited with family, they spoke to him. The child was carrying a doll with a polka-dotted dress, but Fred phased out and fell into a slumber, obscuring the image. The last thing he heard was a desperate set of screams. The last thing he saw was the room... Brightened in a warm color. Fire fading in.

Clamp! Four restraints hugged his limbs. The scary 'alarm clocks' made him jump. What he saw in front of him made him recoil.

He was in a new room after his slumber.

It was the lady looming over the left side of him. The front of her body was covered in darkness; they were in a different room. Fred was in the center of a single spotlight.

Dulce looked different too; she had grey skin now, forgoing the dress for an old floral jumper with all sorts of bizarre colors and patterns. She pulled a lever behind her. Then Fred heard what sounded like gears spinning. A shadowy circles emerged. The 'gears' were saws; they lowered down from the darkness above and were headed straight for his chest.

Seeing the restraints, instinct told him to pry them open. He wiggled and got the two hugging his arms up to his wrist. He located a small latch on each lock; he could open them... With enough time of course.

The lady simply watched.

Fred's panic was at an all-time high. He screamed, thrashed. Wailing screams came from cages hidden in the shadows of the room. Paranormal faces mourned him. Saws closed in. A white light flashed, a blinding presence that covered the room.

Everything stopped.

Whispers and laughter of the night filled the ears of a man.

We'll call him...