The Beast Within

6

The night ended with a kiss goodbye as Connor escorted her to her room, half wary in case Lu showed up and half not caring. Promising a phone call the next day, Connor left, took the long ride down the elevator, waved to the plump front desk attendant, and exited the building.

That night as Connor fell into the open arms of slumber, he was visited by yet another dream. He was standing on top of the same roof he had been on with Laren, but this time he was alone. There was no end to this roof. It seemed like it stretched for miles in all directions. The moon was double its size and the dark sky was void of any stars. There were no pipes or conduits protruding from this roof, instead it was lined with statues, statues of men and women that almost seemed alive. Connor wasn’t necessarily scared of these statues, but neither was he too eager to see exactly who or what they were.

Taking a step forward, he became bolder and approached the first image. It was a statue of a warrior, maybe seven or eight feet tall. He wore battle scars proudly. His long hair around his shoulders, his distinguished nose and brow hinted he was of noble birth. He was dressed in armor and boiled leather, one arm holding his helm in its crook and the other resting on the pommel of a sword sheathed in his belt.

The next statue was similar, but female. Her fierce gaze reminded Connor of a caged animal, the pose the sculptor chose for her adding to the ferocity of the image. She stood tall, chest out, her hair pulled back in a tight ponytail. Both her fists rested on her hips, daring a challenge.

The stone warriors were all intimidating in their own right. Soon armor and leather gave way to an assortment of different clothes. Chain mail and heavy axes gave way to colonial era clothing and sabers. One statue even boasted a male warrior in what looked like traditional samurai armor.

As Connor made his way through the forest of statues, he couldn’t help the eerie feeling that they were watching him, judging him. It was like being introduced to a new school and having the class look at you, judging you before getting to know you.

Connor walked for what seemed like miles, passing more and more statues. One thing he did notice was that no matter how the clothing of the statues changed, the weapons never included guns or firearms of any kind. There was a plethora of swords, axes, knives, maces and other vicious looking objects, but no rifles, handguns, or even bows. Thinking of what this could mean, he stopped short in his tracks. There was an end to this dream after all. There was a door with beaming light shining through from the other side just a few statues away.

He passed the last handful of sculptures. The last few warriors were dressed in semi-current military fatigues. One held a wicked looking knife and the other a large machete.

Only two more to go and you can get out of this crazy dream, Connor thought to himself.

Second to last was a statue of a man. Connor took a step back; he had seen this man before. This was the same one who had rushed to meet him in his previous dream. He was older, maybe twenty years Connor’s senior. His hair wasn’t long, but long enough for the wind to play with it. He was solid, muscular, and tall, he looked the part of a warrior. Still, Connor had the feeling he knew this person.

Connor put it in the same category he had put so many other unanswered questions. Lately it seemed that for every answered question he had, there were two that still begged a response.

Approaching the last statue, he refused to believe his eyes. There was no way this made sense and he couldn’t wrap his mind around it. The statue was him!

Furrowing his eyebrows, he studied it. Whoever sculpted him captured his features perfectly. He was wearing jeans, his favorite pair of Converse shoes, and a V-neck shirt. Not only was he incredibly underdressed for the occasion compared to the rest of the statues, but he was holding a pickaxe. It was the same one Laren had ordered from his mother’s shop. It was the same one that was still in his truck bed. Where other warriors were carrying shields, spears and clubs, Connor had a pickaxe slung over his shoulder.