Girl of Shadow

The Dream

Chapter One: The Dream

There had been a soft clawing, a subtle scratch against the wood that woke Damilola Inle from her restless slumber. She awoke bleary-eyed, rubbing furiously against them to somehow banish the half-sleep from her mind. Shadows danced in the corner, half-bathing the room in the spirit of meh. She sat up, the movement quick enough to make her dizzy.

TapTapTap. The sound persisted drawing her from the bed to the middle of her cramped dorm room, with papers, books, and wrappers decorating it in desperation, not that Dami minded it. She blinked twice, attempting to vanish the darkness and stars from her eye-sight, yet gloomy tendrils continued to herd in the corner of her room.

"Dami, Dami, Dami." A whisper of a voice drawled from where her desk was planted, mingling with the wind, soft and haunting. Another blink of her eyes, had her stalking back toward her bed. She was half inclined to jump back into it, and pull the cover over her head, much like she did as a child.

Fear was the only thing holding her in the center of her room, and she imagined she was the image of a deer in headlights. She glanced at the open window, it's chilling rattle making her jump. The wind howled through it, a curling sound nipping at her ears. Her heart was thumping loud enough that she could hear it in her ear, a rhythmic beat that grew sporadic with each thought that rose to her mind.

Dami moved closer to her high-lofted twin bed, gripping the metal bar, which was coated with a flaking pseudo-wooden paint. That voice was probably a figure of her imagination, she thought, holding on to the bar as if her life depended on it. Maybe it did.

A deep breath had her thinking more logically, sorting through the mangle of thoughts brought by her rising fear. The window was open, and the night was chilly, it could've just been her mind forming mindless worry. But that frantic part of her couldn't deny that she heard her name.

Through it all, the scratching sound seemed to grow louder, a knocking sound taking the place of it. Just the wind, just the wind, just the wind, she repeated in her head, though it didn't calm her. It would take a couple of steps to slam the window down, but she didn't dare move closer to where that voice came.

Her digital clock was sitting atop the desk with the neon red numbers blinking: 4:10 AM. It was late -- she needed to get some sleep, her eyelids began to droop with it. Tomorrow, or rather, this morning, she'd deal with this. The sun would be up, and with it, the homey bustle of early-bird college students would provide her courage -- and protection, from whatever was lurking by her desk.

She remembered the times her mother would soothe her when she felt scared, how she would rock Dami slowly to the deep tone of a lullaby, cursing whatever monster Dami's mind had thought up away. Then, those shadows existed only in her mind, an obstacle that only Mama Sina could defeat. That was then, another world away, when Dami had thought the world of her mother. She sighed as the thought of her mother grew her despair, and for a moment, the wind, the voice, and the scratching melted away, and the memory of her mother shined through. Her face shone brightly as her dark-brown skin appeared in her mind. Smiling hazel eyes followed, along with a mess of coiled black hair spilled over her shoulder. Her round face, accented with her high cheekbones, much like Dami's own, had tears welling in the young girl's eyes.

She steadied herself as the image of her estranged mother reminded her to take control. Things were different between them, but the reminder of who she had been was enough for today. Maybe, just maybe she'd give her a call, though she could make no promises.

The shadows still danced calmly in the corner, but the knocking had ceased, an eerie silence taking its place. Her body seemed to deflate as the fear from her overactive imagination began to climb down slowly. She chided herself mentally, huffing out a withered laugh that didn't quite reach the rest of her face. Her grip on her bed's banister loosened, and with it, little flecks of faded paint.