Bugs Bite

CHAPTER SEVEN: Dreams And . . . Not Dreams

DISCLAIMER: This chapter features some crude language.
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Everything is too vivid to be true.

'Momma!' he yells, but in vain.
He forces a barefoot self down the arching, wooden staircase, massaging his temples. Once or twice he makes as if to stumble, but catches himself on time. He does fall eventually, but only on the last step, by which time his head is ready to explode and he does not really care.

A lute is playing somewhere in the main foyer. Each string pulled causing his heart to shudder.

'Mom! Is that you?'

No response.

Shivering, with a twisted ankle and an aching head, he picks himself up and slowly limps toward the porch. He can see the outline of an old-fashioned, mushy ole' recliner. The lute is playing louder than ever, louder than the drumsticks clobbering against his skull.

A distasteful rank reaches his nostrils, which dilate in irate reflex.

'What's that?' he says, and all of a sudden he knows this is a dream. He never says such idiotic things aloud to himself in real life. He is too mature for that.

But he is again reminded by the torturous pain in his head, of the vividness of the whole scenario. In fact, he feels a strange sense of dejà-vù take over his own self.

'Momma! C'mon!'

The lute stops playing. His heart stops too.

The recliner moves. Someone is sitting in it.

A hand slides into view, a slimy, glistening thing. Like a centipede with those five fingers instead of all those legs.

His heart is racing so fast, it might leave his body behind.

'Uhm . . . excuse me?'

It is Grandma.

'No! NO! NOOOOO - !'

*

Avish jerked awake short of breath. A pretty, corrugated face was swimming in front of him.

''re you fi'e, sire?' said Antra.

'Uh-huh,' he wheezed. 'Bad dream.'

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More oft than not, things end when you least want them to.

The few days at grandma's had been fun, mostly because he had been able to spend so much time with Bhoo. Avish now knew of Vaven and Inira and the Hand and the Trident (all made up tales, he presumed, but which Bhoo treated as history). He now knew of tales kids his age wouldn't dream of imagining. He was now, as they say, enlightened.

Or that's what he thought.

During his stay at Grandma's, Shweta had the opportunity to flex her muscles a bit. A load off of her chest. She almost didn't want to go back.
Most everything had gone smoothly.

Well, there was Antra. She thought Avish was behaving a bit . . . off. She told this to his mother. How she'd heard noises in his room every night of their stay. How he'd been staring fervently at the portrait in the aisle.
But far as Avish was concerned, things were going good enough.

And then came the time when they had to return home. Get reminded how gristly life can be.

Back to her SSDD. Same Shit, Different Day.