Jasper

Nightmares and Daydreams

"Jasper!" The voice that echoed through the house was high, with an undertone of familiarity and comfort in what was being said.

"Jasper, honey?" The owner of the voice, a young woman in her late-twenties, pulled open the plain white door to her six-year-old son's bedroom, her eyes glancing around the room to observe the condition it was in; There were no clothes or toys on the floor, the drawers of the dresser were all neatly shut away, there were no signs of crayon or marker coloring the deep blue walls, the bookshelves were still filed away in alphabetical by author order, the blackout curtains over the window were pushed together, and his mixed shaded blue bed was completely made without the slightest wrinkle. Then there was Jasper, a young, frail boy with mousy-brown, curly hair like his father's and clear, mint green eyes like her own. His pale skin often gave others the impression that he was sick, but his bright smile had always warded away their worries. It was different now, though. In the past few months it had become a rare thing to see Jasper's smile, and an indifferent, frozen frown had replaced it. Now there were tears sliding down Jasper's face as his mother looked down to him. Hurriedly, the woman knelt in front of her son and placed her hands on his shoulders to steady his shaking.

"M-mommy," the cry from the boy was pained, and even as he spoke his eyes seemed to look straight through his mother.

"Jasper, wake up," his mother urged him, gently shaking his shoulders. She seemed calm as she held her son's cheek in one hand, her cold touch bringing reality back to the boy. A shocked expression ran across his face as a registered what was going on, and then he abruptly leaned into her, hugging her tightly as he cried into her shoulder.

"Y-you were dying!" He cried as she returned his hug, "I...I couldn't save you! I tried s-so hard t-to help y-you, mother!"

"It's alright," she cooed in a soft voice, her hand stroking his hair in an attempt to calm him down, "I'm right here. It's okay now, I promise."

It wasn't okay though. Her big heart sank in defeat yet again. Jasper suffered from constant daydreams, daydreams that were really nightmares. She'd taken him to multiple doctors, but all they could do was give him pills that didn't help at all. Sleeping pills, ADHD meds, and even anti-depressants. He was seeing a therapist too. A six-year-old boy, seeing a therapist!

Jasper's mother pulled away slightly after their long embrace, giving her son a reassuring pat on his shoulder.

"Get dressed, honey. I'll make you breakfast and take you to school, alright?"

--

School wasn't Jasper's favorite part of the day. He preferred to stay at home, with his mother, rather than learning how to write the alphabet and how to count to ten on his fingers. First grade was boring for the boy, and while he understood what was being taught to him in class, he barely paid any attention to it. He was often sent to the school nurse, or the principal, when his teacher would notice him spacing out for long periods of time.

Tick-tock, tick-tock.

Jasper glanced up as his teacher, Ms. Lainey, continued to sing the merry holiday song. Other students joined her as she hopped from desk to desk of enthused children. She was the one, possessed by a demon of the underworld. The exact demon that had killed his darling mother. When the woman hopped over to his own desk, he could see the evil in her eyes, feel it radiating off her aura, shrouded in darkness. Jasper was going to avenge his mother. He was going to kill this demon--the demon singing joyously, mockingly, right in front of him. Without a moment's notice, Jasper snatched up the pencil laying on his desk, moved forward and then jumped with a snarl towards the woman, thrusting the pencil deep into her neck.