Watching and Listening - An Empires SMP AU

Nightmares

           False drove the two of them back to Cogsmeade. Since she still hadn't gotten Jimena another elytra yet, when they decided to go to Tumble Town, they had to use False's pickup truck. False made it herself; mostly out of dark oak wood, with the hood, doors, and fenders made of copper, and the inside of the car and the seats were lined with leather. Making machinery out of wood was a fun challenge for her, and she felt like she might try it again sometime. 

           "That was fun," Jimena chirped, sitting in the backseat. False didn't turn to look at her, trying to concentrate on the road, or lack of. The problem was that the emperors didn't really focus on building outside of their own empire, so they usually only paved roads between their kingdoms and their allies'. False made a mental note to make a road between Cogsmeade and Tumble Town, now that they had formed an alliance with each other. "Yeah, fun for you because you won." "Are you a sore loser, False?" Jimena asked. "No," False grumbled, be she realized that she wounded whiny. "Sorry, maybe I'm cranky because it's getting late. We'd better sleep as soon as we get back home." 

           False was a lot more tired than she thought, even though she'd been trying to sleep as much as possible, even during the day. Then again, every time she slept, she would get nightmares, which couldn't possibly help her sleep problems at all. As soon as her head hit the pillow, she fell fast asleep. And she was assaulted by dreams again. Flashes of memory, just like she had every other night. But the glimpses of her lost life were different this time. Instead of scenes involving False flying in the sky, or building things, she saw flashes of fire. Fire, engulfing a town of screaming villagers. Fire, setting the forest ablaze. Fire, lighting up the night sky like the rising sun, illuminating her silhouette on the horizon. False saw her plain as day now. 

           False came to a start, sitting up in her bed. She remembered more now. She remembered more of what the flashbacks had been trying to tell her. She remembered the her acts of arson. How could I have done things like that? What kind of person was I before? False, shuddering, looked at her hands. Why was there a cut on her left palm? It was fresh. And she was certain that she didn't have it when she'd gone to bed. Maybe I cut myself on the UNO cards and didn't notice. Playing cards can give you papercuts, right? But False had a bad feeling that the red line on her hand was something far more serious. 

           She looked at her feet and noticed that she was wearing her shoes. Why did I wear them to bed? False, shivering, but not from the cold, got up and put her boots away. She tried to go back to sleep, but her fear kept her awake. False decided to take a walk, even if it was the middle of the night. Half of her screamed that it was too dangerous, walking around alone at night, but the other half of her desired something to do. She listened to the latter, putting her shoes back on and stepping outside. The moon splashed the obsidian-toned world with slivers of silver; where most people found hope in the lights in the darkness, False felt that they made the dark seem darker by comparison and more frightening. She moved closer to the houses, where she found comfort in the familiar. It was near the houses that she found the body. 

           False gasped. There was a palomino horse, just lying on her side in the middle of the street, not even dead yet. Eyes half open and glazed over. Blood spilled from multiple slashes all over her body and pooled on the ground; a gruesome, sticky puddle, staining her white coat a dirty brown. Who could do this to a horse?! False crouched down and stroked the poor thing; the mare whinnied and shied away from her, trying to kick the architect even though it was down. False backed away. Do healing potions work on horses? She ran into her house to get the potions she'd bought from Shelby. She came back out and poured them all on the palomino. 

           After a few fearful, painstaking minutes, the horse got up and ran away from her. False, shuddering at the experience, turned to go back into her house, and saw Pumpkin Jack staring straight into her eyes, like he was disappointed in her. His hand rested on a sign with words written on it in glow squid ink, making it possible for False to read what it said even in the dim light of the full moon. "Beware your hands," False whispered, her lonely voice quavering in the still, silent night. She ran away from the sign, from Pumpkin Jack, from the puddles of blood where the horse had lain; away to her house and to her soft bed, where she could fall asleep again and escape this nightmare turned reality.