For the second time in thirty years, the entire world has fallen asleep...
Thirty years after the Greymen caused the decimation of her people, high school drop out Rain Collins spends her days learning to pickpocket and hold her booze. Yet she long...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
The Greymen's world of nightmare was not too different from the real world, except that it was constantly shifting. The landscape faded in or out to reveal new scenery as we walked. I caught glimpses of wild lands covered in grime and knotted roots, bits of the cityscape, eerie mist-draped woods. We trekked on, becoming ever more watchful as our silence deepened.
The hairs on the back of my neck rose as the landscape shifted to a cool desert night. A loud snapping sound broke the air around us. We looked desperately in all directions. Then we both saw: the ground was splitting in two between us.
A large crack formed on the dry desert's face, stretching its fingers toward us. I urged Billy to jump over to my side, but too late. The ground opened up into a crater several feet wide and many more leagues deep. There was no way Billy's chubby legs could carry him over.
But me, I was svelte and long. My mother used to say that I had dancer's legs. I thought about the way that running felt in dreams; the air whips by so fast and my body is so light, it's like flying. I held on to that memory and made to leap over the canyon when I heard Billy shout.
I stopped short, scanning the desert. A horde of Greymen marched across both sides of the growing canyon, headed straight at us.
"Do something," I urged Billy from almost five yards away now. The crack kept growing, pushing us further and further apart.
"No." Even from that far I could see his fat grin.
"What?" I shrieked. This kid giggled about shooting fire from his fingers a few hours ago, and now he wouldn't lift one to save our lives.
He crossed his arms across his chest and watched me from across the gaping divide. "You do something."
I scoured my brain and it brought me back to the roof in my first nightmare. Like a dream, the memory was faded, disconnected. But it was there.
Panic. A kitten's mew. Falling.
I hardly was aware that I was dreaming at the time and I managed to produce something. Surely after these hours of unconscious consciousness, I could produce a simple Greyman-rending lion.
The Greymen were getting close, at least forty on each side. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and recognized decay on the breeze. I'm only dreaming.
ROAR.
The sound came like thunder, deep and enveloping. I opened my eyes. A great golden beast with a purple cloak cascading behind it stood between me and the Greymen. A lion. I'd done it.
My lion leaped, its strong legs propelling it at the horde. It bore down upon the pale, rag-doll demons on my side of the crater. Before they could summon any nightmares to defend themselves, my lion's massive jaw clamped down on the leader's throat. Its paws swung out to the sides, furiously swiping the bodies of the surrounding Greymen, ripping open the loose flaps of skin and letting forth rivers of thick, black blood.
