Awaiting the dream This work is considered exceptional by our editorial staff.

December 8, 2009
Standing in the cold, dark night, he waits. The black waves of the northern Atlantic lick the toe of his rag-like shoes. He waits. Alone here, he puts his hand in his torn jacket. He pulls out his lighter and a single cigarette. He place the cigarette lightly between his lips. Fire springs magically out of the lighter. But he doesn’t light the cigarette, instead he stands there and stares at the small, weak flame.

Standing in the dark with heavy, wet shoes. He imagines himself lighting fire to everything in reach. The fire goes out with a quick short burst of wind. The images fade quickly out of his mind. As he takes a long breath, trying to regain awareness, the cigarette falls down into the wet sand.

“S***” he mumbles so quiet, you could barely hear it over the oceans waves.

He didn’t bother to even try and find it. He turned and walked away. The man walked to the old, gray board walk, waiting under the only light. Under the light, it seemed so much darker out there. He’s waiting.

The lighter is still clutched in his hand, his thumb firmly placed on the small red button. He knows he shouldn’t, he knows it would be wrong, criminal even. Lighting the boards under his feet and the buildings behind his back, a flame. That, that would be wrong.

He removed his hand from his pocket, just to stop the temptation from taking over. Just as he did a tiny, women’s silhouette walked up right outside the light. The sequence on her dress reflecting the light, making her dress seem to glow.

“Who are you?” he whispered, trembling mainly from the cold, but the fear didn’t help any either.

She didn’t say anything. Her face was just a shadow, no color, no features. She reminded him or death, the hooded creatures he sees in movies. Her hair was knotted and greasy, like she had been living on the streets from months. The man stepped out of the light.

“Peter,” a small, weak voice cried, “Peter, don’t leave me! Come back!” he knew this voice, he remembered it well. It was his little brothers voice, its from the night he left him all alone with those monsters. He took one more step out of the light.

“Peter! Peter, don’t leave me.” This voice was so familiar, it almost made his knees give out. This was a voice that haunted his dreams, this is the one that made his stomach turn. It was his sisters, the night he left, the night he turned his cheek and let the monsters take her, take her away forever. One more step and he would be out of the light, nearly invisible. But one more step and who knows which voice would be next.

He stood, frozen. Fear and memories made his knees unbendable. He forced his body forward, out of the light.

“PETER! PETER! DO. NOT. LEAVE. ME!” that was the voice. A harsh, rough vice. Somewhere between a man and a woman’s voice.

This was the voice. This was the voice that would make the strongest man cry, the meanest animal run in fear, and that would make even the devil, run and hide. This is the voice that haunts him every minute of everyday. It was the monsters voice, the one that took his sister, the one that took his brother, and the one that took his soul.

He frozen, tears in his eyes. He turned slowly, the light was now in-between them.

“You monster! What the he** do you want?” He shouted, though they were less then 2 feet apart.
“I just want you to be perfect.” the voice commanded with authority, like no other. “Mommy just wants a perfect son. Is that to much to ask?”

*beep beep*

“It was all a dream?” he whispered to the empty room.

It was over.

The monsters were gone.

He was done waiting.

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