Dream-Hunters - Chapter One

John was having a dream again. And he was enjoying every second of it. Right up until the nightmare.

He examined the grassy hillside of the dreamscape in silent reverie, watching as wisps of emerald blew up from the knoll and were whisked away by the cheerful wind. The sun above shone a bright radiance, painting the world in lavish vivacity. But John knew the truth. It wasn’t real.

He had always done this, just sit in his dreams for a while, and whichever way the wind blew, he followed. The flowers on the hillside sang lilting tunes into his ear, taking his cares away and bathing him in rapture.

His fingers kissed the vermillion petals of one flower, plucking it lightly from the earth to take it into his hands. In a whirl of light, the flower transformed into a crimson-plumed songbird. Smiling, John stroked its soft feathers. The bird chirped a felicitous tune and flew away, dancing into the sky until it was out of sight in the sapphire ocean.

Gradually, the scene began to melt, distort, and change. John was used to this as well. The flowers lost shape, drifting back into colors, becoming an intoxicating fog. The grassy hillside warped itself brutally, until the landscape reformed, bending back on itself to let a new setting take shape.

John sat down, tucking his knees in, waiting for the scene to fully set itself. It was always strange to haunt inside his own mind; and yet he did so frequently. In doing so, he had found that he was the most exciting person he knew. But even in his dreams, he was alone.

Standing up, he ran his fingers over the rough bark of a tall hickory tree. The blurred verdure around him proved his point. The forest. It really was one of his favorite places, the sentries of nature stretching their domain for as far as he could dream.

He leaned against the cool trunk, drenching himself in the aroma of the dream. He had been able to do this for as long as he could remember, playing the audience for the delusions of his own mind.

A falling ember caught his eye. A single red leaf, falling through the air. John pushed himself off of the trunk and gazed upward at the shadowing branches. This had never happened before. Did this mean something in his brain was wrong?

And what John witnessed was a sure sign of something. Under his frantic surveillance, the deep green leaves were poisoned by yellow, red, and brown, torn screaming from the trees in a frenzied inferno. John watched, aghast, as the tall hickory ripped away its hair and cast the shreds to the forest floor. Soon, the once peaceful forest was a graveyard of leaves.

He spun, anxious at his dream, suddenly wishing to be awake. But a drop of curiosity cast its ripple into his mind, and he was left wallowing in apprehension in his stolen dream.

This was his first mistake, I hope you realize. Maybe if he hadn’t witnessed the death of a soul, or seen the nightmare with his own eyes, he would’ve remained a normal human. But I sincerely doubt it.

A loud boom shook the forest, lifting the leaves for a second with its crash. Another one sounded out, to similar effect. Boom. Boom. Boom. Boom. The footfalls resounded in the dead leaves, getting closer by the second.

John’s knees began to knock. For under the autumn horizon, a great black form amassed itself. Eight repulsive legs planted themselves firmly onto the soil. Eight blood-red eyes shot open at once, all narrowed furiously at John. It was a giant freaking spider, and it wanted to kill him.

With a screeching roar, the spider began an eight-legged stampede, much more quickly than you might imagine, but just as terrifying as you can fathom.

John, utilizing his most human instincts, turned and ran, screaming, into the forest. The arachnid’s stampings seemed to get closer each second, churning the leaves on the ground with titanic force.

As John raced, the sun, which had been casting brilliance into the forest just moments ago, dropped out of the sky. The ominous moon replaced its twin, draping a damp indigo darkness onto the forest. The trees rotted, shriveling into gaunt husks of their former selves, casting gruesome shadows in the pale moonlight. 

Were the leaves getting deeper? Each footstep seemed to trigger a million crashing roars as they crushed beneath his feet. They were up to his knees now. The spider would hear them. The spider would find him.

John ducked off of the beaten path, jumping behind a dying oak. 

A chaotic ruckus indicated the approach of the spider. John scrunched up against the base of the tree and forced himself quiet. The spider’s advance grew; but then stopped, as though it had sensed his foul play. Slowly, it lumbered around the woods, probing the trees with its rancid breath, prying the leaves with its daggered legs. A deep, guttural growl emitted from its throat, chilling John to the bone.

John curled up tighter in the dead leaves and smooth acorns, as the spider hunted for him, searching for its prey. Horrible images raced through his head, tumbling upon one another in a terrified frenzy.

Then he saw it. One hideous ebony leg sliding itself beside him. The breathing of the arachnid suddenly seemed to intensify. 

The spider was behind his tree.

He clamped a hand over his mouth, eyes flooding in sheer terror. The slightest whimper would get him killed. The leg felt around, frisking the leaves in the darkness for his body. With every swipe, it inched closer to him, and the spider would hiss softly, coaxing John's fear into blind terror.

The deadly silence seemed to last an eternity under the full moon.

And just as quickly as it had appeared, the leg slid back into the darkness, taking with it the scent of spider. The sounds drifted away, and the terror abated. 

Breathing heavily, and releasing a manly whimper, John detached himself from the base of the tree, heading back onto the path. The spider had probably raced on ahead, pursuing him doggedly through the lifeless woods.

A cloud passed in front of the moon, eclipsing the light and leaving shadow behind. John, not wishing to wait a second longer around these woods and spiders, turned to head back down the path to where he had came from. Breaking into a sprint, he barreled down the path, disregarding safety, the environment, and, of course, traps.

He didn’t realize it until he was well and truly entangled. The strands came from nowhere, yet halted him in his tracks, immobilizing him completely. The moon returned from behind the clouds, illuminating his peril. 

In an instant, the dread set into his stomach. There, criss-crossing between the trees, were the silver strands that sealed his doom. Intertwining, intricate, delicate. A tapestry of death.

The spider's web.

The moon vanished from the sky, leaving John in pure darkness. What a fool he’d been. He’d thought the spider had given up, when it was only setting a trap.

Eight crimson lights blazed to life in the darkness. As arachnophobia claimed him, the spider let out one last deafening screech, its teeth glistening with venom. And John responded with a scream of pure terror, echoing into the nightmare sky.

The spider furrowed its brow(s), opening its mouth wide. Its gaping maw moved closer to John’s body, each fang dripping the spider’s acrid poison. In one moment, the spider would sink its teeth in, paralyzing him, then devouring him. John thrashed in the web, desperately trying to wake up. But he couldn’t even move his fingers to pinch himself.

There was something strange about this dream. He’d had nightmares before, but never like this one. This one felt more….alive. The spider that would’ve seemed painted otherwise now held a terrifying reality.

Then, out of the trees, a single arrow buried itself in the spider’s eye. The arachnid recoiled, hissing furiously at this new threat. Two more arrows flew from the shadows in rapid succession, each striking at the spider’s legs. Enraged, the spider flew after the hidden archer. It didn’t go far. A black figure leapt from atop a withered pine, flipping over the spider, firing an arrow into its neck mid-flight.

As the beast turned around, the shadow dropped down in the leaves, drawing a knife from his cloak. Standing at the edge of the web, he began to hack at the silk, setting John free. He was so focused in his task that he did not see the spider’s seven livid eyes glaring down at him. John struggled to cry out, to warn him, but it felt like his vocal cords had vanished. The spider raised its leg….

And was sucker-punched by a flying mass of anger, soaring into the trees with a crash. The cloaked bowman looked up at his rescuer, impassive. “Hello, brother.”

The boy he was referring to was a red-clothed lad, floating five feet off of the ground, arms folded. His mask gave him the appearance of a demon, a grunt responding from the painted scowl.

The spider, clearly very confused at this point, staggered to its feet, roaring. The bowman’s brother ignited a red aura about himself, flying forward, yelling. He struck the beast with tremendous force, flying back and in to strike again, punching and moving like some kind of dream Superman. The spider rocked from the force of his blows, swiping angrily at the red blur of light bouncing through the trees.

The archer continued to cut the web, finally freeing John from his entanglement. Taking John’s hand, he led him away from the fight, splashing through the leaves. Drawing his bow, he nocked an arrow, pulling the string taut. Without hesitation, the bowman fired into the night, the arrow flying towards the moon.

As the arrow flew, it changed shape, warping itself and the air around it. Within seconds, a hole opened in the night sky. It glowed an iridescent warmth, swirling about a white void of beyond. The archer gestured to the portal, his expression still unchanging. “Go,” he said.

John took a step forward, but was stopped by the outstretched arm of the archer. “Wait.” John tensed, eyes darting around the trees. A chilling wind blew through the dead forest.

The cloaked boy’s eyes blazed, tossing John onto the ground. “Move!” John hit the ground, crushing the crisp verdure. Sitting up, he saw the fate that might have been his.

Another portal had opened, just behind them. And this time, a hand, arm, and machete were jutting through, wildly swinging where John had just been. The bowman drew another arrow, taking a fighting stance.

Slowly, the portal widened, and he watched as a man stepped out of the white void. His two-piece suit was sharply creased, pristine white, and his head was adorned with a matching hat atop sapphire hair.

The archer drew the bowstring back, letting the arrow fly. The man deftly blocked with his blade, sending the arrow into a hazel branch. His eyes were completely blood-red, laced with ebony, and now they were drenched in amusement. “Why, hello there, son of Silas.”

The archer stood back, wary of the intruder. “Chaser,” he snarled.

The man leaned on his machete, grinning incessantly. “Oh? You remembered my name? Well, so did I, Matthew Oracle.” He turned his head to look at John. “And who might you be? Why don’t you come a little closer?” He leaned forward, his grin widening.

Matthew stuck his hand out. “Don’t do it.” John scrambled back, fear falling over him. “Don’t run.”

“What’s wrong, little boy?” Chaser picked up his giant machete, swinging it around leisurely. “Do I scare you?” He strode elegantly forward, laughing. “Whatever shall you do?”

He went to take another step forward, but found himself blocked by Matthew’s arm. “Oh?” He smiled easily. “What’re you going to do? Stop me? Please.” With his, he brought the machete around, slashing viciously at Matthew, only to be blocked by his knife. 

“Heh.” Chaser ground his machete down harder, pushing Matthew back. “I think I’ll start with you. I’ll cut you open, rip you apart, and skin you to make a nice rug. And once I’m done with that, I’ll do the same to him!”

Hearing this, John was immediately filled with terror. All rational thought was lost, and all he wanted was to get away. Picking himself up from the forest floor, he ran screaming into the woods. Chaser’s lips curled off his sharp teeth, smiling. “Yes,” he howled.

Matthew jumped back, letting the machete smash down in the earth. “Oh, no,” he muttered, watching John’s disappearing form in the darkness. He turned to look, but Chaser was already gone.

John’s feet crunched in the leaves, churning them as he fled from Chaser. As he neared an oak tree, a hand reached out and grabbed his ankle, tripping him. “Where might you be going?” Chaser smirked, brandishing his sickle. “Can I come, too?”

Getting up again, John tore away, running as fast as his feet could travel. He ripped through the blurred forest, not caring that the hues were once again morphing around him. Gradually, the scene shifted. The withered husks of trees around him became towering, unfamiliar brick buildings. Rain fell, shattering down on the cracked pavement beneath the dim flicker of the alley lights. He was running down an endless alley, and Chaser was in hot pursuit.

John hammered on a metal door, begging for it to open; but it wouldn’t budge. And Chaser just cackled, his demonic eyes and glowing cleaver all that could be seen in the darkness behind.

As he raced on, heart pounding wildly, all he could feel was fear and disbelief. This wasn’t real. It couldn’t be! It was impossible! Yet it was, frighteningly so.

A door creaked open ahead of him, with the white-clothed nightmare stepping out. “My, you sure can run.” He popped out of a trash can as John turned to run. “This has been the best feast I’ve had in a while, and I’m not exaggerating.” He disappeared again. 

And then his voice sounded out from behind John. “But I’m afraid all good things must come to an end!” The rain split open as his machete sliced through the air.

But then he vanished. An arrow skittered on the pavement, and Chaser reappeared, stooping to pick it up. “Tch.” He talked beyond John to the shadows behind him. “You really are persistent, aren’t you?” He smiled as Matthew stepped into the light. “Well, come on then. Show me what you’re really made of!” He laughed, biting the arrowhead, crushing it between his teeth.

Then the masked boy from before burst from the doorway, readying a colossal punch. Chaser’s eyes flashed, and he stepped aside, letting Matthew’s brother pulverize the brick. He spread his arms openly. “Alfie! It’s been far too long!” As Alfie turned around, Chaser chuckled, dodging another punch. “My, how you’ve grown!”

Chaser ducked beneath a kick, spinning out of a throw, vanishing before a chop. “I mean, last time I saw you, you couldn’t even land a hit on me.” He tilted his neck to the side as Alfie’s fist slammed where his head had been. “Oh wait….is that still the case?”

Another arrow flew from the darkness. Chaser caught it, giving Matthew an annoyed look. “Cut that out already,” he snapped. Tossing the shaft aside, he turned away. “Now where’s Alf-”

He stopped short, looking up. Alfie was above him, preparing a dynamic kick. Chaser grunted. “Son of a-”

Alfie’s kick landed square in his jaw, propelling him down the alley. John felt a hand on his shoulder. Looking up, he saw Matthew standing over him. “It’s okay.” he reassured. “Chaser can’t hurt you.”

Chaser brushed himself off, wiping a trail of blood from the corner of his mouth. “Wow,” he snarled. “You really are annoying!” He dashed at Matthew, swinging his sword. “I’ll kill you!”

Alfie flew after him, drawing back his fist. “Don’t you d-” He cut off as his wild punch went through Chaser's back. Time seemed to slow down as the fake Chaser melted back into the shadows. Then a hand reached up from the earth and grabbed Alfie’s ankle, sending him crashing to the ground. Chaser reappeared above him. “Gotcha!” he crowed.

“Alfie!” Matthew nocked another arrow. But then a swarm of spiders erupted from the cracks in the pavement, surrounding him. The spider nightmare from before hadn’t quite quit. Matthew was quickly overcome by the arachnids, his form lost in the jumbling black mass. Wrapped tightly in spider silk, the colony began carting Matthew away.

“Matthew!” Alfie cried, reaching for his brother.

“Hey.” Chaser grunted as he raised his machete. “Pay attention to me!” Laughing madly, he sank his blade into Alfie’s back, sending up a gush of red. Alfie grunted, fist tightening. “That’s right. Squirm, you insect!” Chaser cackled sadistically as he stabbed Alfie, again and again.

As the cleaver plunged in, Alfie locked eyes with John, pleading for something, anything. But John just sat there, paralyzed by fear.

“Die! Die! Die!” Chaser hacked madly at Alfie’s body, until the light had died from his eyes, and Alfie was a mauled mass of flesh on the pavement. Alfie’s fist tightened once, then let go. But not once had he cried out.

Stained red with fountains of blood, Chaser chuckled softly, uprooting his machete, swinging it around. Strolling past John, he sauntered over to the spiders, who had woven a web between the buildings in the alley. “That was fun.” He grinned, turning back to John. “We’ll have to do that again sometime.” 

The web glowed white, opening up into a portal. Matthew thrashed from his ensnarement. Chaser shrugged, plucking his collar with his thumbs and forefingers. “But if you’ll excuse me, I need to go clean my suit. Good day.” Tipping his hat, he walked through the portal with the spiders and Matthew, and vanished.

“Hey.” A weak, emaciated groan jerked John from his stupor, there on the cold, wet pavement. “You there.” Alfie was struggling towards him, crawling over the cement, leaving a trail of blood in his wake. “Come over here.”

Too stunned to resist, John stumbled over, sitting down in front of Alfie. “There you go.” Reaching a hand to his blood-soaked face, he pulled off the evil mask, placing it in John’s lap. “Tell my sister I’m sorry, alright? And if you ever meet Matthew again-” Alfie closed his eyes momentarily, then opened them again. “Tell him to live.”

John nodded numbly. Alfie smiled. “Yeah. You’re a good kid, you know that? Now, you hold onto that mask for me. And I know it sounds like a bit much, but give Chaser a kick in the teeth for me, will you?”

John found his voice again, speaking in his ghostly depth. “I will.”

“Hah. That’s good.” Alfie began to glow, becoming a cluster of light. Pieces of illumination drifted away into the murky night sky, undeterred by the heavy rain. “That’s good.” With a final laugh, Alfie dispersed into pieces of light, drifting apart on the wind. John sat back on his hands, watching them go.

Suddenly, the scarlet mask began floating, hovering in front of John’s face. It began to lose shape and fade into color, becoming a ball of warm red light. As he watched in wonder, the sphere buried itself in his chest. And a raging fire awoke in his heart.

The mask took shape over his face, conforming and searing into it, sealing him in an aura of fury. His muscles were flooded with power, and every step he took seemed to shake the earth. He closed his fist confidently. And a wicked smile overcame him.