The Dork Circus
Thomas Jade Dreams
You dream, more vividly than you have for many nights. You rise in the dead of night, shrouded in wings of darkness, and go forth from your lair to hunt. Everything is quiet, darkness shrouds the forest, and nothing moves beneath you as you stream out in mist form under the stars. Your keen eyes pick up nothing at first, until you chance upon a farmhouse. It stands alone in the middle of a well-tilled field, but the night is charged with unseasonable warmth and one shutter hangs loose. You stream in through the window and find a young child asleep in its bed. Taking back your corporeal form, you gather the child into your lap, and bite deeply into its neck, sucking forth its delicious blood…
You start awake, shuddering, and draw the black cloak closer around you to ward off the cold.
Again the dream comes to you, even more real than the last time. The child’s blood has finally run dry, but you are not finished here. You move under the door in your mist form and into the farmhouse’s main room. Their dog lifts its head at your approach, curious but not yet alerted to your presence. You flow gracefully under another door, and into an older child’s room. This girl’s sleep is fitful, as though she knows you are in the house. The mist of your presence flows up over the bed and covers her, and you materialize atop her, your teeth already at her neck. You drink deeply, gulping down her hot blood and feeling it revitalize you. Her eyes open, searching the darkness for her attacker, and she tries to cry out. But though her mouth opens, no sound escapes as you take the last of her life and rise, licking your lips….
You awake suddenly, sitting up immediately. A terrible hunger gnaws at you as you remember the vivid details of the dream, and you know that no normal breakfast will satisfy you…
The dream is real in a way that your waking world can never be. You move through the village, unseen except as a silvery mist in the moonlight. You can hear him calling you, pacing back and forth atop the tower, but you see no need to go to him, not yet, not when this place has so many, so rich, so lovely. A door swings open as a man staggers out into the street. You take the opportunity, streaming behind him and into a large room you almost recognize. A pretty blonde girl carries steins, three to a hand, towards a table on your right, next to a blazing fire driving back the still-wintery chill. Fleeing from the light, you move towards the stairs and up, up to a small door that poses no barrier to your mist form. Flowing under the door, you find a small room dominated by a four-poster bed, curtained against the cold. You take back your man’s form and spread the curtains open to find a young woman sleeping soundly, her rich raven hair spread out around her on the linen sheets. She’s far too beautiful…you wrap her in your cloak and begin to feed, still ignoring the growing insistence of the tower’s caller.
You wake slowly, breathing heavily, uncertain whether this is still dream or not. You open your eyes, expecting to see your lover Megan Swiftblade, but not until you rearrange the folds of your cloak do you spot her. Her eyes are open, but why doesn’t she move?