Saddle Tramp (A Santana x Male!OC Story)

Dream a Little Dream of Me (Chapter 3)

     (Quick content warning for this chapter, the first half has blood, some gore, and breif mention of vomit, if any of that makes you uncomfortable then I suggest you stop reading at "He couldn't hear Joseph and Lisa Lisa anymore..." and start back at "He doesn't remember much else...")

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"And I was so young when I behaved 25, yet now I find I've grown into a, tall child." -First Love/Late Spring by Mitski

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The thing he always seemed to do in horrible situations was freeze. If it wasn't a fight, at least of the physical variety, Marty would find himself frozen in place. Maybe it was leftover from his childhood, who knows? What he does know, is that day in Switzerland he froze.
     When the three of them watched from behind that rock as the flood of Caesar's hamon surged through the gaps in the wall, a deep sense of dread began to form in his gut. Using that much hamon at once was incredibly dangerous, Caesar knew that. Why would he do that?

     The next moment he was in the hotel with Joseph and Lisa Lisa. The former frantically searching for Caesar's remains, the bandana clutched in a white knuckle grip at his side. Lisa Lisa stood there, the shake in her hands almost imperceptible if you weren't looking for it. He felt like he was seeing this on a movie screen, he didn't feel real in the moment.

     He could still hear Joseph's yelling, but another sound drew his attention. It was quiet, and Marty had to strain to hear it. This wasn't right. He didn't know where the thought came from but it stayed even as he realised the sound was a faint scratching noise. Joseph had stopped his search and he and Lisa Lisa were talking, the woman had her cigarette backwards. Everything was normal, except the sound, which had moved from a light scratching to knocking. It was a clear and precise sound, but the others acted as if it wasn't there.

     The banging got louder and louder. This wasn't right. He was supposed to be reaching out to Lisa Lisa, only his hand would freeze on her shoulder as they all turned their attention to the cross-shaped block in the center of the room. That wasn't happening, he was still frozen to the spot, watching as blood pooled from under the rock. He couldn't hear Joseph and Lisa Lisa anymore, and only registered that almost everything else had fallen away, when a bloody and broken hand began to emerge from under its stone prison.

     He opened his mouth to scream, but all that came out of his throat was a choked sound, it felt as if he was trying to yell through a gag. The hand began to lift the rock, and Marty was reminded of Dracula emerging from his coffin. The block gave way with a loud thud, and the being that stood in front of him could barely be seen as that.

     Mangled was the only way to describe it. It stood hunched and unsteady, and looked as if it shouldn't be standing, like all its bones had turned to dust. The thing's white pants were stained almost entirely red, its blue jacket a rotten purple. Marty didn't think the thing would even be able to breathe. Although it most likely didn't need to. It's chest was smashed in, appearing almost concave. The things face was the worst though.
     All he could discern was a mess of blond hair and gore, so much blood and gore. He didn't know if it could even be classified as a face anymore. The thing 'looked' towards him with hollow sockets where its eyes should be. When it opened its 'mouth' the sound that came from it was wretched, a mix between a death rattle and the howl of a banshee.

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     Marty woke up screaming. He thrashed out of his bed, landing on his uninjured side. He didn't have the capacity to be thankful for that at the moment, however. Immediately he rushed to the bathroom, where Marty felt as if he'd vomited up his soul. He blearily registered that he must've bit his lip in his sleep, because a few droplets of blood joined the mess.