Sandman || a short story ||

Sandman

Pete had heard all about it while he was a child. He was warned to never partake in it; he was encouraged to join his friends. Every time, he declined their offers and promised his mother he would never join the epidemic.

Sandman was the game. At least he was told it was a game. His observations told him otherwise, as he witnessed children run out of dark bathrooms, shrill screams escaping them. Even the toughest ones were found in corners of the classroom, horrified tears staining their young, plush cheeks.

"Don't do that Sandman junk here," his mother would always nag. "Don't do it at school, either! I don't want that getting to you!"

Pete knew better than to question his mother, so he never asked. All the years he had witnessed children and teens play this mysterious game of Sandman, he never was inside the experience. He never knew why his friends scare easily now; never understood why they had dark circles under their once lively, youthful eyes. He only assumed it was lack of sleep, or the majority taking a silly game too seriously.

Once Pete aged seventeen, the building curiosity had started to get to his head. He watched fellow students wish away experiences. Whenever he dared to ditch a class to roam the hallways of his school, he would witness peers escaping restrooms with shrieks of terror. Some were sensitive and would seizure upon their escape. Others were found reciting prayers. The epidemic only grew as time went on, along with Pete's curiosity.

Stuck up jocks would dress as what was described of the titled character for Halloween. The basket case kids would draw him on the desks. Every time the strange game was headlined on the local news, Pete's mother would swiftly change the channel before the anchor could utter a word about it.

Everything changed one morning as he roamed the halls again, no purpose towards a classroom and no desire to be in one. Pete witnessed another student scramble out of the restroom, that very same terror in his eyes. He was used to everything, except for something new and strange.

The lean boy that had stumbled onto the linoleum floor locked eyes with Pete. A dark mark resided on the student's neck, gold glitter shimmering slightly as the sun caressed it. He hadn't noticed the boy before him was still gasping for air-- probably gasping for his very life. The mark was shaped like a hand, only the fingers were long, slender, and pointed. Almost like claws.

"What happened to you?" Pete dared himself to ask as he neared the boy. His voice was gone, hoarse as he tried to scream and scurry away.

"D-Don't..." the boy wheezed. "Don't go in there! Don't let hi-him know I'm here!"
"Hey, dude, I just want to help you," Pete emphasized.

He dropped to his knees and inched closer to the quivering teenager. He dared himself to touch the strange mark on his neck. A yelp elicited from the boy, but the dark matter didn't transfer. It didn't budge. Pete furrowed his brow at the odd occurrence. Before he could open his mouth to ask of the situation in detail, the student scrambled to his feet and ran out of the building.

Pete stood and gripped onto the straps of his backpack, eyeing the men's restroom with a puzzled stare. He dared himself to enter the very room, the usual drip of the faucet echoing through the unkempt space.

"Hello?" Pete called out, his voice bouncing off the white walls. He looked around, not finding feet occupying the lone stall. Pete turned around, meeting with his reflection.

He frowned slightly at the familiar image-- the same unkempt, dark eyebrows, the same almost-almond hazel eyes, the same dark hair. He heaved a sigh as he examined the restroom, part of his mind wondering if that kid was okay. He also wondered if he was just pulling a prank to make the Sandman game more believable for his own friends and the many students that crowded the school.

Only one way to find out, I guess, Pete thought to himself.

He stared back at his reflection one last time before closing his eyes. Another exhale escaped from him as he gripped the straps of his backpack again.

He remembered the last time his friends had mentioned the game to him, relaying the rules. He parts his lips, allowing the words to pass through them.

"Mr. Sandman, Mr. Sandman, bring me a dream. Mr. Sandman, Mr. Sandman, enlighten me with your scheme."

Pete waited. He stared back at his reflection, then frowned before rolling his eyes.

"This is stupid," he mumbled to himself as he made his way to the exit of the bathroom. As he made his way towards the portal, the walls began to lean in. Panic rose in Pete's chest, the crackling of wood and cement crowding the room. He caught sight of his reflection again, a dark matter forming before his face.

A painted smile surrounded by black lips manifested, gold eyes following. A scream escaped from Pete as he tried to escape the image. He had no way out as the images emerged from the reflective glass, forming into the depictions he had seen of the man himself, Mr. Sandman.

He stood tall and lean, his hands bearing black claws and his smile shining like shark's teeth. He wore all black, a sharp collar piece with gold trim and sharp edges. Mr. Sandman didn't say anything, but proceeded towards Pete. All the boy could do was scream, feeling his heart claw its way out of his chest.

Sandman wrapped a dark paw around Pete's throat, lifting him as he minimized his airway. He tried to fight the evil force, choking. With his free hand, Sandman gathered gold dust within his palm and blew it in Pete's direction. The shimmery particles landed in his dark hair, his thick eyelashes, and in his lungs.

His eyes fluttered close as a shallow breath escaped him. With that breath, Sandman disappeared. And so did Pete's life.

The End.