Philophobia || Dreamnotfound

4

George's POV

George screamed as he sat up in bed, his heart racing. His heart pounded and he coughed, feeling his dry throat grate. Soft moonlight peered through his windows, providing George with some peace and reminding him where he was.

The Southern Mainland Populace... I'm in the SMP, he thought to himself as he slowly realized where he was. George sighed in relief and ran his fingers through his hair with shaky hands. It wasn't the first time he'd had a nightmare like this one.

He got them frequently. The nightmare was always the same, but the thing was, George could never remember it. All he knew is that he often woke up screaming in the middle of the night, plagued by this voice in his head.

George had a vague idea as to what it was. He could still partially recall the lingering presence of this being in his nightmare. This creature with no specific features, just a voice.

He shuddered at the thought. The voice frequented his thoughts and actions, mainly at night, but occasionally in the daytime. George had been born with it, this presence in the back of his head, whispering horrible things. He hadn't been afflicted with the voice in the time he's been away from his home, he assumed it was because he'd been so busy and his brain wasn't as focused in this new place. George squeezed his eyes close, trying to push the image away. He took a deep breath, his nerves slowly relaxing.

He opened his eyes and looked to his nightstand, where a salt crystal rested. He turned it over in his hand. The salt was meant to ward off demons and evil spirits, but he'd had this one for a while. George figured he needed a new one.

He set the crystal down and realized how sweaty he was. George cringed and got out of bed. He washed up in his bathroom and went to go back to sleep, but the echoing voice in his head stopped him.

George knew he would not be able to go back to sleep. He glanced out at the night sky and decided to take a walk.

He hadn't been into town yet. Maybe the salty aroma of the ocean would help.

~

George walked under the dimly lit sky. His boots made little noise as he strolled through the streets of the city. Almost everyone was sleeping, except for the occasionally populated bar. He walked and walked, having no specific destination.

His mind slowly settled, the voice of his nightmare fading from his consciousness. George approached the docks by the harbor. He followed the shore until there weren't any boats or docks, just the sand and the sea.

George took his boots and socks off, letting his toes curl in the cool sand. The grains dug into his feet, bringing him to reality. He smiled softly as he approached the gently lapping water.

He'd never seen the ocean before. His home was surrounded by land without a single coastline. George had always longed to see the ocean. To admire its beauty and swim in its waves. To smell the salt in the air and taste the fresh wind.

His bare feet were greeted by the water and George shivered at the sudden coldness. He rolled his pant sleeves up and walked farther, the water reaching his upper calves. George placed his fingers in the water, letting the frigid ocean tickle his skin.

George could only imagine what it must be like under the sun, but he knew that the ocean under the moon was just as magnificent, if not more so. There was no wind on this calm night, providing him with a serene sight. The moon outshone the stars, dimming their usual brightness. The moon's white light reflected off the gentle waves and water lapped against the sand, the constant sound was another comfort to George.