He Who Weaves Nightmares | PUBLISHED (Available in Print and eBook Format)

Chapter 9 - Winged Demons

Chapter 9 – Winged Demons

Dreamer

I resumed my writing after the quarterly exams. I tried to work on the outlines of my chapters the past week, but I barely accomplished anything while I juggled reviewing for my assessments, taking care of my sisters after school and day care while our mom was at work, walking the neighbors' dogs to save money for college and finishing some of the chores at home. I didn't complain though because our mother had been working three jobs since our father passed away four years ago.

As for Francis taking up most of my free time in the morning, tutoring him was a welcome break. I also couldn't ignore the fudge brownies he'd slipped in my bag every day.

I brought my netbook to the café on Monday. It was time to finalize the beast from my dreams.

Francis carried a sketchpad and colored pencils. He took his regular seat in front of me and started drawing. We worked in silence for a few minutes and when I turned to look at what he was doing, I was surprised.

No, I was stunned.

I was sure he started on a blank page a few minutes ago, but the sheet was now filled with amazing lines and swirls. It was a remarkable fusion of colors and the picture looked like a living, flowing river. If I didn't know I was staring at a piece of paper, I'd assume I was watching a video clip on a tablet. The drawing seemed to be moving because of the different shades and textures Francis applied.

Francis made an abstract. It was surreal. The kid was quite an artist. Even Yvonne would be blown away if she saw his work.

"That's incredible! Where'd you learn to draw like that?" I asked, beyond impressed.

"I guess it runs in the family. We all like to... draw," Francis answered then he turned to point a thumb at Ice who was sitting at his usual spot on the other side. "Even Ice can create interesting sketches although he usually works with black and grey."

"Really?" I replied, skeptically. "What about Markus?"

"He does portraits. Some nudes."

"Oh," I gasped, turning red. "Of course."

"I'm kidding!" Francis said.

"No, you're not." My voice cracked. No, I was not heartbroken. That would've been stupid.

"You're right. But he's very picky."

"I bet."

I want you to draw me like one of your French girls. Wearing this. Wearing ONLY this.

"Selene?" Francis snapped his fingers in front of my face.

"Oh, sorry!" I blushed to my roots and pushed my glasses up my nose. "I was thinking of... uh... a scene in my story."

All these lies were going to bite me in the ass one day.

"Wow. I guess it's rather riveting if the ideas can pull you from reality like that. You should let me read it when you're done!"

"Maybe," I responded, relieved that it wasn't one of those moments I'd accidentally said my thoughts out loud. My sisters said I sometimes did that.

We got back to work and I managed to push aside the image of Markus sketching gorgeous college girls lying naked on his bed. I got absorbed in my story and detailed every angle of my beast. I spun a story around it like nothing I'd ever written or read before.

I didn't have time to take out my netbook this weekend, but I'd scribbled down notes whenever I could. The ideas just struck me the moment I finished the last test and my head was filled to the brim with all these images. This morning, my fingers couldn't type fast enough.

I was still too shy to let anyone read my stuff, but I was also excited to finish it and share it to the world. Most probably using a pseudonym. And after seeing what Francis drew, another portal opened. It was a whole new world I wanted to drown in.

I'd finished two chapters the past hour and I was eager to start the next one when I looked at the time and saw I only had fifteen minutes to get to school.

I hurriedly packed my things and told Francis I'd go ahead. His first class was Art Ed and they were allowed to do their projects outdoors for inspiration. I wondered if his teacher would doubt if he made his project. Well, I saw Francis create a masterpiece in such a short period. He could easily prove himself.

I told Francis I'd see him tomorrow then headed to the door. I had just stepped out of the café when something heavy hit me, making me drop my takeout coffee.

This kept on happening.

I turned around and shook my head at the giant. I didn't have time to be upset. I was going to be late for... Chemistry! Ack. I hated that subject. Why couldn't we just leave the elements alone to balance themselves?

"Wait," Ice said. "I'll replace it."

"No," I stopped him. "It's okay. It was almost empty anyway and I'm late for school."

Ice stared at me then surprised me by asking, "Are you writing about demons?"

Saying I was surprised was again an understatement. This was the first time Ice and I talked after he'd called me tiny several weeks ago and his first question startled me.

How had he found out?

"Huh?"

"You read it out loud earlier. I was about to remind Francis that it's time for school and I heard you. I didn't mean to eavesdrop, but you had your earphones plugged in and you probably didn't realize you were reading out loud."

I was appalled. I wondered how often I'd been reading out loud while writing in public. Had I also recited the Titanic line aloud? Francis hadn't said anything.

I bit my lip. There was no way out of this but the usual. Time to run away, little girl.

Ice stopped me and offered, "Could I give you a lift to school?"

I glanced at the huge motorcycle and shook my head. "On that? No, thank you. I have younger siblings who still need me."

The giant looked offended. "Hey, I ride safely! I even have an extra helmet."

I took a step back. I was still squirming at the thought that he'd heard me reading my story.

Did I talk about the beast? Did I mention its golden eyes? Would he think...?

"Uh-uh," I turned to go. "I got to run. I'll be late for my first class. You and Francis better start moving, too."

"Hey, just a tip," Ice said. "Not all demons have horns. Some have wings."

I frowned at him. Of course some demons had wings. Some looked incredibly gorgeous, too, until they got your soul and showed you their true form. I was thinking of incorporating some demons in my book.

And it hit me—I read the description of the beast with the golden eyes and the tiny sharp teeth out loud! And if I were not going insane and he did see that description whenever he looked at the mirror, then he probably knew I was describing him.

Wait. What? Okay, too crazy. Of course I wasn't describing him. He didn't have golden eyes and he didn't have fangs. These coffee fumes probably had hallucinogenic components.

"I got to go!" I blurted then I literally ran to school.

"Damn it. I need to work on my social skills," I heard him mutter.

**

No horns, but wings.

No horns.

Wings.

I pondered on the idea that night. I stared at my screen and started deleting my initial description. When I had nothing but a blank page in front of me, I removed my glasses, closed my eyes and visualized.

And it hit me.

Massive leathery wings hung from wide shoulders. The tips of the sinewy featherless appendages scraped the ground.