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

Chapter 43 - The Family Tree (Part I)

Chapter 43 – The Family Tree (Part I)

Weaver

We were back home. My leathery wings weighed heavily on my shoulders, not a physical burden but a vexing reminder that I was still a god. I might as well make the most out of it.

"I will distract Mother and Father while you two lovebirds decide what you want to do," Markus said before he pulled me aside and meaningfully told me, "I suggest you look for Thanatos."

I sighed as I considered that option. Was it truly the best one?

I looked at Selene and saw her gazing, mouth agape, at the world around her. We were in the junction of our sphere where my conceptions met Markus' and Francis' creations. On one side, there was an impression of Narcissus staring at his reflection on the rippling royal blue water, ignoring the mermaids that were vying for his attention. On the other side, there were twenty pixies molesting one of my shadows.

A thought occurred to me. I held Selene's hand and told her, "Let me show you the difference between your imagination and mine. Your art is glorious. Mine is grotesque. I am the weaver of nightmares after all."

Selene smiled at me and nodded, eager to explore the dream realm again. It was different this time. It felt better because I was not compelled to hide anything from her and she fully grasped that everything was real.

Multi-colored pebbles formed into a giant heart at our feet and I flushed in embarrassment.

"I didn't realize you could be this cheesy," Selene remarked. "I thought you only worked in black and sometimes, very, very dark grey."

"I got the idea from Francis," I grumbled.

"I like it," Selene told me as she crouched and picked one rainbow-colored pebble.

I waved my hand and the pebbles formed into a swirling wall that parted in the middle. I held Selene's hand more tightly as we stepped though the gap and found ourselves in one of my favored sites.

It was a graveyard. It was freezing and the wind screamed at our ears. Selene trembled and I was gratified to see that it was not out of fear. The girl even had a smirk on her face as she looked around her, but she was rubbing her arms because of the cold. I pulled her closer to me and kept her warmly tucked in one wing.

I fancied the sound of bones crunching beneath our feet. The walls of the necropolis were decorated with hundreds of skulls. The eye sockets blazed with red coals, illuminating our path. Cracked tombstones and markers had slimy worms and a thousand maggots crawling out of the crevices. There were misshapen effigies with missing eyes and ears, severed noses and lacerated mouths. The figures creaked as they moved. A statue of a headless woman ambled around, digging the graves, searching for her head.

A gruesome wraith with decayed flesh hanging pitifully on his blackened bones dared approach us and presented Selene a wilted white lily.

"Thank you," Selene said, blushing as she accepted the flower.

I glowered at the wraith and it retreated, crumbling and losing more muscle tissue with every step. I was annoyed and jealous. Until I realized that these were all my designs.

I laughed to myself. I was such an idiot when it came to Selene.

"You have wicked taste, Icelus," Selene told me as she stepped out from under my wing and faced me.

"Does none of this terrify you?" I asked.

"Grotesque and quixotic," Selene answered, her eyes never leaving mine. "Your world is beautiful."