DWARF IN A HOLE

A face of stretched, decayed skin and exposed bone materialized inches before the dwarf’s. It shrieked. The dwarf hollered. Gagging, the dwarf’s throat prolapsed and expelled from his beard. Awake to his own shrieking, the dwarf stirred every sleeping creature within the steeple at once. They came to him, and though he regretted ruining their dreams, much appreciation for his flock blossomed, and the dwarf came into comfort. Significantly more stars than the night previous threw themselves about the aisles and rubble, atop dwarf and pigsect alike.

He hadn’t dreamed in some nights, realized the dwarf. And his first experience since was a nightmare of the eater. He shuddered, for he did not wish to return to a sight he feared awaited him. But the doctor--funguay or not--would likely be frustrated if its patient did not rest. Exhaustion too furthered the point and so, in the embrace of Waspig and Joshua, the dwarf closed his eyes...

A face of rotted skin and gnarled bone drew cold breath before the dwarf’s. It boiled on his skin. The dwarf screamed himself hoarse butting heads against the apparition; it cackled and attached thousands of chains to thousands of strands of the dwarf’s beard, yanking. Awake once more to his own cries, the dwarf’s temple reverberated among the reorganization of his animals, their rests again disturbed. The dwarf could feel the stinging of eyes that demanded closing and put up an effort to resist. But his thoughts were scrambled and full of contradictions--he could not focus on one area of thought before its melting into another for long. Thus his tired mind fell victim to the dwarf’s third attempt at sleep...

Pure darkness made up the vision of what the dwarf thought his, but he could not be certain for nothing could be seen. He thought he looked up and may have--it made little difference which direction took focus. The dwarf fell victim to the ducts in his eyes as ever, fear persuading him to his worst predictions involving the horrific appearance of the dream eater though it had yet came to be. In such black the dwarf felt unsure whether comfort could be taken, unwilling to become a victim to surprise. But, vision no better than shut eyes, the dwarf began to consider himself completely helpless. It did then, in fact, scare the dwarf enough to remind him of his own beating heart, when a single stained window emerged with a great offering of light, its cone upon a woman of long scarlet hair.

The dwarf, past the shock of his regained operating of limbs, forced himself forward. She who he knew to be his mother part her hair and smiled. The dwarf’s guard fell to his advancing feet. It was only as he drew near did he notice glints of light off the silhouette of The Ponderous One behind her. The dwarf gasped as its branches took his mother and wrapped themselves tightly round her neck. Frantic, she stirred until limp. The dwarf crumpled to his knees and wept, and remained in the position until bathed in the golden light of morning.

“You look a bad sight, buddy.”

The dwarf dared not move, but he couldn’t in any matter, he knew, even if the dwarf could not see who spoke.

“Nightmares I’m betting. Gotta tough it out, but you won’t have to alone. I’ll get the old man to tend to you while you nap. Huh? What’s a dream eater? I thought the name gave it all away. Just japing. They’re the dead, dwarf. Sometimes a soul’s at rest, sometimes they aren’t. This one must’ve been starved, though, else it wouldn’t’ve come up here and chanced that hot light. Or maybe it was locked up so long it forgot all about what would go down. Hey, it’s gone now, no danger of that. And dream eaters keep to themselves, so you can be sure there won’t be another down there siphoning off your good sleep. But, well, I can’t speak for what else’s in the ruin. Dwarfen cities can house all sorts of danger; most aren’t protected sites, and some haven’t ever been cleared. I’d suggest you board this one up, but that won’t be stopping any ghost. Dad can conjure some runes down... if we can descend again. Hey, all considered, good to see you again, dwarf. Wasn’t so sure you wouldn’t be reloading a ‘save’. So, is it true? You’re going back to the elfs? Certainly? I understand the old man wants his money but, dwarf, don’t die over gold and jewels. The doctor’s known many who have--he nearly did.”

Funguayou kicked its stubby dwarfen feet around, pebbles scattering.

“Some wreck.”

The dwarf agreed. It made him sorry to have brought so much ruin to the building, Doctor Mallow’s sense of shame imprinted. His own father too seemed to look down in disgust, and the dwarf shook his head for his neck muscles were alone without pain...

A face of decomposed skin and protruding bone laughed wildly before the dwarf’s. Irresolute, the dwarf slammed his teeth together and tucked his beard between his legs. The skeletal giggling continued and deepened in pitch, soon a wall of noise entirely around him.

“SHRINK... DEMON... SHRINK!” cried Doctor Mallow, above, disembodied.

The dwarf dared sight. The dream eater had put some feet between it and he. Light emanating from above revealed dust in the darkness. The dwarf steadied his breaths and staggered forward. His limbs were his own, and some swelling of bravery within his chest pushed the dwarf onwards until inches before the ghoulish face he feared. It shot forward and shrieked; the dwarf clasped both hands tight round its neck. The two fell to the beach of dust and were washed upon by seawater. The dwarf did not loosen, and the pulsing eyes from within his victim bulged. Horrifically, then, the apparition’s visage formed the skin and bones of his mother. Neck freed, the dream eater swiped at the dwarf and sent it flying up and out into the sea of which he quickly submerged under. Blackness reigned supreme beneath the waves, and the dwarf could make little out but blurred grains. But golden, filtered light at once guided him to shore, and he heard aloud the voice of Mallow booming:

“I CANNOT BANISH WHAT IS NOT REAL... YOU MUST BE BRAVE ENOUGH.”

Recovered from spitting up the dark ocean, the dwarf rose and staggered, gently gripping and releasing his palms the while. The woman of blazed red curls boldly returned his stride, entering the dwarf’s immediate reach with a hug. But the dwarf drew back and, his mother insisting, the dwarf stepped against and shoved her backwards. A firing range unfolding at once, the woman’s form exploded to gunpowder, her remains too detonating. Soon before the dwarf an immense fireworks display swallowed the seemingly impenetrable blackness, and he would not have broken his captivation would the warmth of the sun above not encouraged a turn.

In time to receive a grasp beneath his beard, the dream eater lifted the dwarf high into the black air, and soon sight could not be distinguished from the exploding spectacle of his dead mother. But the sun remained in position. To the dwarf this fact frustrated the eater, and he capitalized on the distraction, clasping a ghostly appendage in his own two, squeezing with the might of eight ‘MELEE’ levels (a considerable downgrade from a life previous). Nevertheless, the limb went limp, dissipating into ash. A flight followed, and the dwarf crashed into the waters of dust. Emerging, the apparition reached with its remaining hand; the spirit was slapped away. Stunned, the ghost suddenly collapsed beneath the dwarf whose iron tight grip on its neck waned not until his victim violently disintegrated. Then fell the dwarf face first into water. All around him light grew brighter and brighter...

The dwarf awoke to a day of rain. Gripping air reflexively, the dwarf found the gesture came with minimal ache. No sign of Doctor Mallow could be made, but the dwarf, among his furred creatures of dozens of eyes, observed Funguayou beside. On its rear, it turned its head.

“Morning, dwarf. He did come by, yes. You slept decent the rest of the night, and I wasn’t sure if you wouldn’t keep doing so with those storm clouds. You should rest more, really. Old man suggests it--I think the same. Well, so you can move those arms again, can you? Great, that’s perfect, see, I’ve a problem.”

From behind cracked boulders Funguayou withdrew a pipe.

“Got a light?”