Memories (Of Dreams and Demons)

Found in Flame

I open my eyes. Naoko is gone.

Fires surround Ogarato, closing in from all sides; the buildings on outskirts of town already engulfed. The skies are a surreal blend of orange and blood-red, massive flames bellow waves of smoke into the sky,

The clouds become layers of sludge that discolour the canvas of the burning sky, and the fires spread closer towards the center of town. Now almost every rooftop burns, many collapsing as they succumb to their fiery death. Even the small lake behind the train station is on fire; clear water aflame in a place that makes no sense.

I can feel my chest constrict, my heart pounds as I dart about the station, trapped within an inferno. There's no escape, no secret passage, no path to freedom. I don't know what to do.

A chuckle fills the red sky; a deep, mocking laugh, its shifting pitch dancing along a line that can only be described as insanity. It's directed at me, at my futile efforts of escaping my inevitable.. combustion.

And from the smoke of the flames that burn the countryside and doom the train station to a destiny of ash, a figure strides slowly, purposefully, towards me. A form takes shape, seductively defined by womanly curves, two curled horns of ebon, her face hazy in the smoky fog.

Her face is unreadable, her bone structure transient; the unique features allowing individual facial recognition missing. Layers of paint upon her flesh shift colours, shift shade; a pool of ink trying to dry and form an image.

She steps closer, the wall of fire closing in behind her, leaving everything behind black as the moment before dawn, burnt beyond the possibility of rebirth. Nothing but a black death twitches in her footsteps. She's taking her time, I can tell, enjoying this moment, this.. ending.

And as her waist sways seductively at a boy surely less than half her age, her upper body twitches. Her head spins in multiple directions at a supersonic speed that would surely snap her neck were this real; one of those horrifying nightmares you're only supposed to see on television. She flickers, caught between dimensions, trying to force herself into the world of humans.

The flames draw close as she sways. I feel my body glow, my flesh takes on a pink hue as the heat draws close to burn. A wiff of that burning hair smell; my scalp tingles, my forearms sizzle. Through watering eyes I can barely make out something more in the far distance.

Upon the highest of the hills that surround Ogarato, a second figure stands, its figure outlined even within the dead blackness, watching over the shoulder of the woman who approaches.

The smoke from the fires seems to gain new life, shifting in the sky to flow towards the distant figure. It smudges together until it's so thick it's almost a black river, liquefying, blackening, like black ink. It's the man of shadow. He's.. feeding.. off the darkness formed from the smoke of her deadly blaze.

I have to be dreaming. I like my adventures with talking animals and a blonde-haired wonder. I don't care if they're real or not, but this, this can't be real. You're not real. The man of shadow is not real. I don't believe you.

The woman of curves and horns laughs within the flames, mere steps from reaching me. It reverberates across the burning town, celebrating its destruction. I don't know from where her laughter comes, for she has no mouth.

I open my eyes.

Naoko squirms peacefully as she dozes against me, though slightly pouts at being disturbed. She claws me gently as she shifts between dreamstate and first awakening. I sit in shock a moment, frozen in the chilly morn, unable to move, finding difficulty breathing.

My eyes though, I can move those. They dart about, seeking the figure in the flames, the fires that burn. But the vision is gone, all gone.

Only the quiet streets of unburnt Ogarato greet me, a thick layer of white fog blanketing green fields and empty streets. It's very early morning, and a few brighter birds greet one another with excited whistles. The skies have cleared a little, patches of blue having broken the storm.