The nightmares had begun again.
This time, Shaun began to seize in his sleep. Everyone woke up in a hurry and shook him, trying to get his flaccid limbs to work. His chest wasn’t rising and falling anymore, and the thumps of his heart irregular and out of rhythm. He was drowning in his nightmare, his mind swirling deeper and deeper into the dark fantasy.
*
The Sandman, or that frail man in his dreams, stood at the back of him, breathing heavily into his neck. He was old beyond any age, the wrinkles in his forehead folding layer after layer. His hair was scarce, and the thin silver clumps fell down his eyes, and over his rope belt. His beard was tucked into it neatly, though it was thick and white compared to his hair.
The robe he draped around his thin body was ripped and gray, the ripe smell of dead ashes billowing in the graveyard. His bones were brittle and could be seen vaguely through his bleached, pale skin. His eyes were the gray of the sky before the rain, opaque and obscure as clouds.
His teeth were rotten and there were large gap between his gums, as though maggots had decided to fill in his mouth like putrid dentures. His tongue was long and the decaying colour of purple, the edges ripped and blooded out. He licked his torn lips carefully, studying Shaun like he was an item he soon could devour.
“My dearest child. Dearest of them all,” he whispered, the terrible stench of his breath choking the boy.
With the Sandman’s spindly fingers, he lifted up a lock of Shaun’s hair and sniffed at it, his face contorted into a twisted ecstasy. “How beautiful, my precious, precious one,” he hissed, the other fingers crawling down his spine like a spider ready to strike.
Shaun remained still, shivering in his bones.
“Here, I have come again to haunt you, yes I have. Your breath so sweet, oh so sweet, like strawberries. And how I do love strawberries,” The Sandman said, licking his lips again. Suddenly, he sniffed the air, as if searching for something that he couldn’t see, his pale eyebrows creasing with curiosity.
He stepped away from Shaun, his walk never faltering. The beauty and grace in his strides were hardly human at all. The Sandman stuck his nose in the air and breathed in deep. He smelled the dry earth caked with mud, the grass dying all around his feet, the fear in the boy’s eyes, and the dark scent of his awakening.
“Goodbye, dearest child. The next time I come to haunt you, you will be in terrible despair, oh the worst of the worst, I dare say,” cackled the thin old man before throwing his head back in laughter and bursting away in a dark light.
*
Shaun woke up.
“Oh my god,” heaved Nicole, letting out a relieved sigh.
Shaun’s vision swarms back, the blinding light of the morning piercing through his eyes. He cowered away like a man afraid of the sun, his hands shielding his head, a little cry from his dry lips.
Adranne wiped the sweat on his forehead and passed him a cup of warm water.
“It was longer this time, way longer,” Lucas said, resting his body on the hinges of the room door. He bowed his head down lazily before taking a long stride to his friend, stumbling along. Ryan’s screams could be heard from downstairs, shrieks of delight and enchantment, along with a yell from Jonathan.
Shaun rolled his eyes before letting the warm water seep into his throat, soothing the sandpaper feeling whenever he coughed. He shut his eyes for a moment, trying to remember the haunting dream, the nightmare.
He couldn’t remember a thing at all.
No one pestered him about it, but he could see them brimming with curiosity. Adranne took the empty cup from him and scuttled to Ryan and Jonathan, urging them to be quiet. Lucas plopped himself where Adranne was sitting before, taking one of Shaun’s hands in his.
“Don’t gay around with me,” laughed Shaun, yanking away his fingers before Lucas had a chance to kiss them. “Later, maybe later,” he then added. Ignoring the blinding headache, he slipped out of bed with the help from Nicole, his lips a diminutive mumble, on and on about the same thing.
“Breakfast is ready,” called Adranne from downstairs.
Everyone had already woken up, including the twins, who very much preferred to sleep all day. They flew down the flight of steps in a hurry, hugging everyone good morning.
Ryan was being chased by Jonathan, his laughter ringing through the living room.
“Come back here, stupid. Give it back, give it back!” Jonathan yelled, slipping on the smooth wooden tiles. Ryan merely shook away the comment like dusts on his shirt before bounding up the stairs three at a time with a book labeled “diary” in his hands.
Adranne rolled her eyes.
“Kids,” all the girls said in unison.
More laughter as everyone poured cereal and milk into their bowls. Everyone preferred eating on the couches upstairs, and watching morning cartoons like Teletubbies. They slurped at their milk and licked their white moustaches from the top of their lips.
*
It was a camp, like any other, or so they thought.
20 kids stuck in one giant house to share for 6 months, a place where parents who knew they had kids with rather exceptional abilities sent them. Of course, there were more houses in the camp; but the edifices were situated a distance from each other.
About 10 acres of land was used to construct the Institute of Performance and Arts. Each hose that the students lived in were designed differently by one of the world-renowned interior designers. Pebbled walkways ran through each house and each building, which holds the student for classes.
There were also bicycle paths, for those who prefer the wind in their hair, and roads, for those who were too lazy to walk. All the pathways led to the school, which had a main building for the administration, another for the cafeteria and student lounge, and 5 others for the performance and art students.
Hall 1 was for drawing and dancing, Hall 2 for athletics, Hall 3 for acting, singing, 4 for horseback riding and skateboarding, 5 for basketball and football, and 6 for instrumental arts and writing. They were given free time to roam among the 6 buildings, and pick up skills from other students during their half-year staying here.
Though each of the 20 kids were more than close, their ages differed immensely. Each had a different interest, different likings to different things, and often arguing about what they loved.
They had started the camp about a week ago, friends and now closer than ever.
Nicole packed her art things into her bag, the many of her brushes and poster colours, her art palettes and A3 sized files, her big dirty shirts to cover up her nice, clean ones, her pencils and erasers, and her sketchbooks. Following her were the three dancers. Jasmine, the one that did beautiful ballet, Shaun, who did the latest pop and lock, and Ryan, who did break dancing.
Jasmine placed her ballet shoes and point shoes neatly into her bag, along with her black leotard, a spare pink one, and a pair of tights. Her hair bands and extra clips and hair buns, which were kept in a pouch, were also placed into the bag. Extra trainer shorts and leg warmers were also packed into it. Shaun and Ryan, however, shoved their extra clothes into their bags, -just in case they sweated- their deodorant, and a few cds he burnt along in their sling bags, armed with their new Adidas shoes.
With a casual wave of goodbye, the trio stepped out into the wintry weather, took their bicycles and cycled off to their block, about 2 minutes from the house.
Lucas stomped out the snow from his checkerboard Vans Off The Wall, an aggravating feeling welling in his gut for ruining his favorite shoes. He slipped on his black winter jacket, zipped it up as high as it could go, and waited for the rest. Lucas was an adequate writer, one that seemed to make his writing come alive.
The twins, Justen and Julian, and Adwin were in acting, or impersonating classes and Leon was in singing and songwriting. Helping the 13 year old gather his writing materials and song sheets, they too cycled off to the school, a lingering goodbye on their lips.
Adranne cleared up after those who left, and wiped the milk off the table. Lucas washed and wiped the dishes and left them aside to dry. There were only 4 of them left. The rest of their housemates were in either basketball or football, and had left early to practice.
Jonathan propped his legs up on the coffee table, fingers tapping on his PsP. With practice and an agile swipe, Adranne snatched it away, and hid it in her pocket, leaving Jonathan sulking but half happy that she had stopped him before he went overboard.
Getting everyone ready, she helped Jonathan look for his wave board, found Adrian’s lucky trainers, and finally stumbled upon Lucas’s lost pen. Carefully slinging her violin onto her back, they went out the door, Lucas humming a tune as he went along.
Adranne slid out her key card, much like those of the hotel ones, and kept it in her rucksack. Jonathan bided them goodbye and shot off on his wave board, his legs moving in rhythm with the board. Lucas started his Mini Cooper, and dropped off Adrian at Hall 2 for his athletics, and dropped Adranne off before parking his car at the car park.
This may seem as such an ordinary day, with ordinary people doing, well, kind of ordinary things. They sleep and eat, kept their house keys, went to school, talk to friends, everything one who was normal would do.
But no one in this school was normal.
This time, Shaun began to seize in his sleep. Everyone woke up in a hurry and shook him, trying to get his flaccid limbs to work. His chest wasn’t rising and falling anymore, and the thumps of his heart irregular and out of rhythm. He was drowning in his nightmare, his mind swirling deeper and deeper into the dark fantasy.
*
The Sandman, or that frail man in his dreams, stood at the back of him, breathing heavily into his neck. He was old beyond any age, the wrinkles in his forehead folding layer after layer. His hair was scarce, and the thin silver clumps fell down his eyes, and over his rope belt. His beard was tucked into it neatly, though it was thick and white compared to his hair.
The robe he draped around his thin body was ripped and gray, the ripe smell of dead ashes billowing in the graveyard. His bones were brittle and could be seen vaguely through his bleached, pale skin. His eyes were the gray of the sky before the rain, opaque and obscure as clouds.
His teeth were rotten and there were large gap between his gums, as though maggots had decided to fill in his mouth like putrid dentures. His tongue was long and the decaying colour of purple, the edges ripped and blooded out. He licked his torn lips carefully, studying Shaun like he was an item he soon could devour.
“My dearest child. Dearest of them all,” he whispered, the terrible stench of his breath choking the boy.
With the Sandman’s spindly fingers, he lifted up a lock of Shaun’s hair and sniffed at it, his face contorted into a twisted ecstasy. “How beautiful, my precious, precious one,” he hissed, the other fingers crawling down his spine like a spider ready to strike.
Shaun remained still, shivering in his bones.
“Here, I have come again to haunt you, yes I have. Your breath so sweet, oh so sweet, like strawberries. And how I do love strawberries,” The Sandman said, licking his lips again. Suddenly, he sniffed the air, as if searching for something that he couldn’t see, his pale eyebrows creasing with curiosity.
He stepped away from Shaun, his walk never faltering. The beauty and grace in his strides were hardly human at all. The Sandman stuck his nose in the air and breathed in deep. He smelled the dry earth caked with mud, the grass dying all around his feet, the fear in the boy’s eyes, and the dark scent of his awakening.
“Goodbye, dearest child. The next time I come to haunt you, you will be in terrible despair, oh the worst of the worst, I dare say,” cackled the thin old man before throwing his head back in laughter and bursting away in a dark light.
*
Shaun woke up.
“Oh my god,” heaved Nicole, letting out a relieved sigh.
Shaun’s vision swarms back, the blinding light of the morning piercing through his eyes. He cowered away like a man afraid of the sun, his hands shielding his head, a little cry from his dry lips.
Adranne wiped the sweat on his forehead and passed him a cup of warm water.
“It was longer this time, way longer,” Lucas said, resting his body on the hinges of the room door. He bowed his head down lazily before taking a long stride to his friend, stumbling along. Ryan’s screams could be heard from downstairs, shrieks of delight and enchantment, along with a yell from Jonathan.
Shaun rolled his eyes before letting the warm water seep into his throat, soothing the sandpaper feeling whenever he coughed. He shut his eyes for a moment, trying to remember the haunting dream, the nightmare.
He couldn’t remember a thing at all.
No one pestered him about it, but he could see them brimming with curiosity. Adranne took the empty cup from him and scuttled to Ryan and Jonathan, urging them to be quiet. Lucas plopped himself where Adranne was sitting before, taking one of Shaun’s hands in his.
“Don’t gay around with me,” laughed Shaun, yanking away his fingers before Lucas had a chance to kiss them. “Later, maybe later,” he then added. Ignoring the blinding headache, he slipped out of bed with the help from Nicole, his lips a diminutive mumble, on and on about the same thing.
“Breakfast is ready,” called Adranne from downstairs.
Everyone had already woken up, including the twins, who very much preferred to sleep all day. They flew down the flight of steps in a hurry, hugging everyone good morning.
Ryan was being chased by Jonathan, his laughter ringing through the living room.
“Come back here, stupid. Give it back, give it back!” Jonathan yelled, slipping on the smooth wooden tiles. Ryan merely shook away the comment like dusts on his shirt before bounding up the stairs three at a time with a book labeled “diary” in his hands.
Adranne rolled her eyes.
“Kids,” all the girls said in unison.
More laughter as everyone poured cereal and milk into their bowls. Everyone preferred eating on the couches upstairs, and watching morning cartoons like Teletubbies. They slurped at their milk and licked their white moustaches from the top of their lips.
*
It was a camp, like any other, or so they thought.
20 kids stuck in one giant house to share for 6 months, a place where parents who knew they had kids with rather exceptional abilities sent them. Of course, there were more houses in the camp; but the edifices were situated a distance from each other.
About 10 acres of land was used to construct the Institute of Performance and Arts. Each hose that the students lived in were designed differently by one of the world-renowned interior designers. Pebbled walkways ran through each house and each building, which holds the student for classes.
There were also bicycle paths, for those who prefer the wind in their hair, and roads, for those who were too lazy to walk. All the pathways led to the school, which had a main building for the administration, another for the cafeteria and student lounge, and 5 others for the performance and art students.
Hall 1 was for drawing and dancing, Hall 2 for athletics, Hall 3 for acting, singing, 4 for horseback riding and skateboarding, 5 for basketball and football, and 6 for instrumental arts and writing. They were given free time to roam among the 6 buildings, and pick up skills from other students during their half-year staying here.
Though each of the 20 kids were more than close, their ages differed immensely. Each had a different interest, different likings to different things, and often arguing about what they loved.
They had started the camp about a week ago, friends and now closer than ever.
Nicole packed her art things into her bag, the many of her brushes and poster colours, her art palettes and A3 sized files, her big dirty shirts to cover up her nice, clean ones, her pencils and erasers, and her sketchbooks. Following her were the three dancers. Jasmine, the one that did beautiful ballet, Shaun, who did the latest pop and lock, and Ryan, who did break dancing.
Jasmine placed her ballet shoes and point shoes neatly into her bag, along with her black leotard, a spare pink one, and a pair of tights. Her hair bands and extra clips and hair buns, which were kept in a pouch, were also placed into the bag. Extra trainer shorts and leg warmers were also packed into it. Shaun and Ryan, however, shoved their extra clothes into their bags, -just in case they sweated- their deodorant, and a few cds he burnt along in their sling bags, armed with their new Adidas shoes.
With a casual wave of goodbye, the trio stepped out into the wintry weather, took their bicycles and cycled off to their block, about 2 minutes from the house.
Lucas stomped out the snow from his checkerboard Vans Off The Wall, an aggravating feeling welling in his gut for ruining his favorite shoes. He slipped on his black winter jacket, zipped it up as high as it could go, and waited for the rest. Lucas was an adequate writer, one that seemed to make his writing come alive.
The twins, Justen and Julian, and Adwin were in acting, or impersonating classes and Leon was in singing and songwriting. Helping the 13 year old gather his writing materials and song sheets, they too cycled off to the school, a lingering goodbye on their lips.
Adranne cleared up after those who left, and wiped the milk off the table. Lucas washed and wiped the dishes and left them aside to dry. There were only 4 of them left. The rest of their housemates were in either basketball or football, and had left early to practice.
Jonathan propped his legs up on the coffee table, fingers tapping on his PsP. With practice and an agile swipe, Adranne snatched it away, and hid it in her pocket, leaving Jonathan sulking but half happy that she had stopped him before he went overboard.
Getting everyone ready, she helped Jonathan look for his wave board, found Adrian’s lucky trainers, and finally stumbled upon Lucas’s lost pen. Carefully slinging her violin onto her back, they went out the door, Lucas humming a tune as he went along.
Adranne slid out her key card, much like those of the hotel ones, and kept it in her rucksack. Jonathan bided them goodbye and shot off on his wave board, his legs moving in rhythm with the board. Lucas started his Mini Cooper, and dropped off Adrian at Hall 2 for his athletics, and dropped Adranne off before parking his car at the car park.
This may seem as such an ordinary day, with ordinary people doing, well, kind of ordinary things. They sleep and eat, kept their house keys, went to school, talk to friends, everything one who was normal would do.
But no one in this school was normal.
Nicole (:
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