Saltwater & Ink

8. The Red Dream *aliud ex alio malum*

   Half-asleep in a contemplative state, Inky wasn't sure if the presence behind her was reality or a fragment of a dream. She felt a cold chill in the air, and realized she was still on the rooftop loft of the Gallery. She wasn't sure what time it was, yet she didn't remember falling asleep. The sky overhead was still dark and decorated with constellations. An ominous red glow painted the horizon, and the atmosphere was thick with the smell of ozone and heavy rain, like the aftermath of a thunderstorm. Inky blinked twice, staring into the threatening red void. The night sky seemed to peel back like segments of a pomegranate, and a thick red rain began to fall toward the earth. A cacophony of low, hellish horns sounded in the distance like an air raid. She staggered up from her seated position, hands over her head as the thick rain continued to fall.
   In her mind, she could see the Abomination she had created out of man-made scraps somehow given a life of their own. The first time it happened, Inky didn't know where the blood had come from, but gazing into the gaping maw of this godless sky, at once she knew. The sounds of crunching, splintered bone filled her head, and a low-pitched buzzing like angry swarms of insects. She ran to the edge of the abyss and screamed and screamed. Inky knew that this source of unknown evil must be fed- its gnawing hunger ripped through her consciousness until she could feel the claws of madness gaining their hold. A thick red curtain, similar to the one on the stage of Tapestry, hung in front of her. She pushed it aside, feeling the moldering velvet give way unpleasantly beneath her grasp. Behind the curtain was all manner of terrible things- ghastly figures grinding flesh and bone between their teeth, dripping with blood, venom, and thick black ichor. Their saliva drooled down from abominable rending jaws filled with rows of sharp teeth. At first glance, these figures appeared human- until she took a closer look, and then it was blatantly obvious they were anything but. Inky tried to run but she was frozen in place, eyes streaming hot tears yet still magnetically drawn to the carnage in front of her.
   A tuberous, thick appendage writhed through the air in front of her, covered in thousands of minute eyes, all blinking at her in acknowledgment. Inky shuddered in disgust, as the tentacle-like appendage grasped blindly towards her. She forced herself to look away for just a second so she could try to fight the terrible beast. A limbless torso levitated slowly towards her through the choking red air. It opened its mouth, and putrid black sludge came oozing out. The body was covered in wires, mechanical parts, and red wax. "Is this what I have created?" she screamed internally. "I will destroy it- I will destroy you ALL!" The ground shifted suddenly under her feet, and the wretched creatures were sucked into the red void below. She fell backwards from the pit, scraping her hands on the rough earth below. There was a terrible immense pressure all around her, she thought she would be crushed by the mere feeling of it. Closing her eyes again, she willed it to go away, and felt herself being thrust through the empty space and falling, falling through the endless field of stars. She stared at her hands, which were covered in ink, and reached up to brush a single black feather off of her tear-stained cheek.
   She was snapped back into reality by the sensation of something warm around her wrist. Delirious from her ordeal, Inky jolted upright, her grey eyes bloodshot and staring wildly in all directions. Her eyes adjusted and focused in the semi-dark, until she could see a human hand wrapped around her wrist. She froze in fear, then cautiously looked up to meet the black eyes staring intensely at her. It took her a few minutes to realize that she was no longer in the hellscape she'd been trapped in, and was now back to the reality of the Artist's loft at the top level of the Gallery. Inky also realized that the odd stranger in front of her was the man with the knife from the Artist's Night show. He had seemed to be mysteriously absent from the after-party, and had just now made himself known. In a quiet internal panic, Inky looked around at the otherwise empty rooftop. The stray blood-flowers were still scattered across the concrete floor, but the string of small lights and paper lanterns were off, and the menagerie of origami had been swept away by the wind. A lone pink paper crane floated sadly in a stale martini.
   The stranger crouched in front of her slowly let go of his grasp on her wrist. Inky noticed that he was still wearing the charcoal suit from the art show, but it had flecks of blood on the sleeves and collar. She shivered involuntarily, nerves still frayed from the -vision? Nightmare? Whatever it was. "Where were you?" the stranger asked, still staring intently into Inky's face. "It looked like a bad dream- but where did you go?" His voice was quiet and insistent. Inky slowly shook her head and averted her gaze. How was she even supposed to explain what had just happened to her- let alone to a complete stranger? He would definitely think she was insane- hell, she might be- or he might be as well, considering his previous actions with the knife, whether it was for an artistic pursuit or something far more sinister. Right now she just wanted to leave, to forget this whole miserable night never happened.
   Inky stood up and walked to the edge of the railing, looking out into the vast glimmering sea of lights that was the town. She could almost see her studio from here, yet she didn't feel quite safe sharing the same dwelling as the abomination she'd created, even if it was just a horrific dream. The man in the bloodstained charcoal suit stood up and walked over to her wordlessly. "What do you want?" Inky asked in defeat. He just stared at her with those colorless eyes. The absence of light. She saw her own self reflected back- pale, scared, looking like she'd literally crawled her way out of hell. "I know how to stop them."  His face was mostly expressionless, yet his tone was serious, and he appeared to stare right through her. Inky recalled the evening's earlier conversation between Miranda and Emma, that they both had a similar darkness to their art style. Obviously she had never purposely drawn someone else's blood- at least not that she was aware of. How was he supposed to help her? "I think I need to leave," said Inky quietly, staring down at her feet. "I can't go back home right now, but I can't stay up here in this damn loft forever." She turned away from the stranger and slowly started climbing down the fire escape ladder, flakes of rust from the metal rungs biting painfully into the palms of her hands. She had made it halfway down the ladder when the man's voice called after her. "Inky- wait! Where are you going?" The sound of her name echoed into the night. How in the hell does he know my name, she thought. She stopped climbing, one foot on the rung of the ladder and the other hanging off into space.