The Four Dimensions of Corey Emerson

Unseen Shadows

            Three days had passed before I had the dream. Three long days. It felt like weeks. It felt like months... But no, only days.

            I was in the back of a cart.

            I didn't realize where I was until I woke up. I can't recall the dream, exactly.

            It was all a blur, like everything after that day until up to this point. Every single thing.

            I remember... I remember... I was in a cart... a wagon... there were men on either side of me. There were half a dozen conversations flooding the rocking compartment with tones of anger, frustration, and confusion. All, too, were in some form of Elvish tainted with Irish. The men that sat close to me, though, were speaking English.

            “-When we'll make it back,” I caught one of the men saying. He was dark skinned and his deep voice made me want to cower under the bench I was sitting on.

            The men around him shrugged and exchanged brief glances with one another.

            “I don't even think Pine knows where he is,” the man on my right sighed.

            The dark-toned man nodded. “No one does. We've been going in circles for the past five days, men... we'll never find him.”

            Suddenly a loud quarrel erupted from the front of the wagon. The compartment was draped with a large cloth blanket of some kind, so the sun would not let me perfectly see who it was, but they were broken up by a tall, dark-haired man who I knew to be Anthony Pine. His deep voice grumbled with nerves but no one seemed to pay attention to how tense he was. His voice even cracked when he started talking.

            “M-Men... Caravan Three and Four were raided, last night... Most are dead...” This had stirred up the entire wagon of larger-than-life men. “Quiet!” Pine shouted over everyone. Men that were starting to stand up, sat back down and the entire wagon was quiet enough to hear the wind whistle through the silence.

            The whistling grew louder, though... And louder... but none of the men seemed to notice. I started the scream. I don't know why I screamed... Perhaps, because I didn't realize it was a dream... I was screaming at all of them to get out... Just.. 'Get out! Get out! Idiots! Get the hell out!' I didn't even move, myself. For some reason, I knew what it was, and I had no idea how I knew what it was... but I did...

            It was one second between when the whistling stopped and the bomb blew out the front of the wagon. Pine and some other men went flying towards me. I dove out of the way so I wouldn't get a face full of Elf. The men hollered battle-cries and profound language as all manners of weapons tore through the cloth roof as the cart flipped over. The Caravan was being attacked... and there was nothing I could do.

            I hit my head, hard, but that's not what woke me up... One of the Wolf-Demons that had attacked Camp Pine stalked up to me as I picked myself up, a couple yards from the wagon. I had been in the explosion and my whole left arm was completely numb. I looked down, more worried with that, than the Demon running towards me.

            I screamed as I gazed upon the large gash and plank of splintered wood. I felt nothing. I never felt anything. Then the scenery dissipated and distorted into ripples as if a pebble were dropped in the water. Everything changed.

            The Demon did not stab me, but I felt a deep pain in my gut. I looked down. Another splintery plank of wood was sticking out of my stomach. And my arm. The one in my gut wasn't there, a dream ago. Or... wherever I was... This next part I remember ever so clearly because my mother was there. I had somehow wound up in a place where everything was dark blue.