Wake Up

Chapter 4

Stingy leaned against the brick wall under the shade and looked moodily at the sports field. The hardtop had baked in the sun until it sizzled underfoot like a frying pan. The humidity was ruining his starched shirt.

"Did you get any sleep?" Stephanie asked as she and Ziggy came walking down the sidewalk.

"Only a little," Ziggy said. "When I finally did he came and scratched on my window! I couldn't sleep the rest of the night..."

"Who?" Stingy asked, but the kids didn't hear him.

"I think he came back for me too," Stephanie said. "I couldn't stop hearing his awful laughing! At least I didn't see him this time..."

"Who didn't you see?" Stingy asked louder as the kids approached. They looked up with a shared strange expression.

"Stingy," Stephanie asked, "have you been... sleeping okay?"

"Why shouldn't I?" Stingy asked. Stephanie and Ziggy exchanged looks. Before they could say more Trixie stomped down the street and burst into their midst.

"All right, what's the big idea?" the pigtailed girl demanded. "You tell me all about this creepy guy and then he just happens to come and attack me?"

"You saw him?" Ziggy squeaked and crowded in. "Me too! He scratched my window and told me to get out! Did he talk to you too?"

Trixie's face reddened and screwed up in a scowl. She shoved Ziggy back.

"That's not funny!" she shouted. "I only dreamed about scaring you, I didn't do anything. Why should I dream about him when he's your nightmare!"

"That was you?" Ziggy stumbled back and gaped. "But we heard him laughing!"

"Why would you do that, Trixie?" Stephanie stepped between Ziggy and Trixie in the little boy's defense. "We're not joking about this guy, and you're trying to scare us?"

"But I saw him yesterday!" Trixie stomped her foot. "You're the ones pulling a prank!"

"We didn't do anything! It was that man!"

"WHAT man?" Stingy shouted over the others. "Why haven't I seen him in my dreams?"

"You don't want to see him," Stephanie said, "believe me."

"Yeah," Ziggy whimpered, "he's big trouble."

"You're the ones who are trouble!" Trixie barked at them. "I don't know how you're doing it, but stay OUT of my dreams!" The girl stomped away, leaving the others staring after her. Stingy looked to Stephanie and Ziggy.

"What are you all talking about?"

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Stingy couldn't stop shaking his head over what the kids had said. Of course the hot weather made it hard to sleep, but blaming it on some nightmare-guy? Everyone was so bored from not being able to play in the heat that they were making things up in their dreams. Worst of all they were leaving Stingy out.

Well, Stingy could dream about way better things than some weird guy any day. He lay in bed determined to have the best dream ever about living in a mansion made out of solid gold, with solid gold furniture and piggy banks filled with gold coins, and everyone else would wish they could have as nice a dream as he had.

But just as he rested his head on his pillow Stingy heard the distinct chingling noise of his favorite piggy bank being rattled.

"Piggy?" Stingy sat up and squinted around his room. The long shape of a man sat at his desk, holding the bank aloft. The faint light coming in from the window made his eyes glint.

"This bank," the man said in a deep voice, "is mine."

"What?!" Stingy squawked. "Who are you? What are you doing in here?"

The man slipped the bank under his arm and it vanished. He stood up and ran a finger across the desk, scraping his nails on it.

"This desk is mine," the man decided. With a wave of his arm it too disappeared. "The door is mine," and the door was gone.

"You're that creepy guy, aren't you?" Stingy accused him. "Well guess what, buster, this is MY dream, and those are MY things! And I'm not sticking around to let you have them!"

Stingy pinched his arm and gave it a vicious twist. The pain coursed through him like a live wire. He howled and nearly fell out of bed, just managing to grip the sheets and hold on.

The pain continued to radiate out of his arm as he rubbed it. Despite the rude awakening Stingy let out a sigh. He'd left the window open and his room had been filled with warm and muggy air. That probably gave him the bad dream. He reached over to pull the frame down.

A long arm shot out of the dark and slammed the window closed for him. Stingy reeled back in bed as he stared up at the man. His lean frame cut a dark hole in the gloom and his eyes and teeth gleamed crookedly, too close to Stingy.

"Ah-ah-ah," the man ticked his finger at Stingy in mock scolding. "All your dreams," he growled, "are mine."

"No!" Stingy blurted. "This isn't real! YOU aren't real! I'm not—"

"Some children should be seen, and NEVER heard," the man said, and snapped his fingers. And just like that Stingy's voice was gone.

Stingy's mouth kept moving until his eyes widened and he stopped. He felt at his ears and tried to shout, straining the cords in his neck. The vibration hurt his throat but he couldn't utter a sound.

"The floor and ceiling are mine," the man declared next. With those words the room came apart, the ceiling peeling back like paper and the floor falling away. The humid outdoor air rushed in around Stingy in a stifling rush as the bed hung free of support.

"You, Fancy-Boy," the man reached towards Stingy, "are mine." Stingy pressed back against his headboard, trying to keep away from the crooked grasping fingers, but had no way to escape him. With a single caress Stingy was gone.