While art is subjective, your hate for Stephen Vincent Strange was pure and simple. An arrogant, crude and tasteless man. One of close-minded thinking and a lack of creativity.
This was the type of person any artist like you would despise.
~~~
All...
"Oh god, no, don't be scared," he runs a hand over his face, "I just... whenever I tell people this, they tend not to take it seriously,"
"Oh my god," you finally realise what he's trying to say, "are you telling me you're actually a party magician on the side??"
His heart swelled up with butterflies at your dramatic gasp; he truly did fall head over heels for the right person. "Will you be quiet?"
Your lips trembled before a laugh let loose, "I'm so sorry! I couldn't help myself," both hands clasped over your mouth as he rolled his eyes and walked away. "Wait, Mr Clown, come back!" You hug him from behind, "can you make me a balloon animal?"
Seeing those puppy dog eyes made him stop, reluctantly conjuring one. "Can I say what I want now?"
"Hm," you eye to balloon before nodding in satisfaction, "wait... are you pregnant?"
"Y/n!" He groans.
"Okay, okay, I'm done," you pull him down for a quick kiss, "what did you want to tell me?"
"I just... the amount of time we've spent together, I knew there would be a slight chance that I'd-" Was this the wrong moment to confess? Was it possible that-
The music suddenly stopped. Scratchy sounds exited the speakers, both crackling and disconnecting until all that was left was white noise. After a moment of confusion, staring at it, an eerie tune slowly leaves. It took a second until the lyrics were sung, and the song was recognised.
Mr. Sandman...
Bring me a dream...
It continued until a frightening scream broke out, lights shattering from above. Stephen wrapped his arms around you, protecting you from raining shards.
"Why bring a dream when one could have a nightmare?" That haunting voice seemed to appear from each corner of the dark room. Silence followed, heads turning to locate the next surprise. There was nothing... even the creak of wood beneath you both could be heard, the small rustling of cars driving outside and the uneasy breath from yourself.
Stephen held out his hand, a ball of eldritch magic illuminating the vast sea of darkness. The light glowed against both your faces, and you waved about to find a wall in hopes of locating the exit.
The further you both walked, each click of your shoes, the further you walked into nothingness. Soon, a corner was seen, a figure curled up in fear, shivering and drenched in water.
Stephen let curiosity get the better of him, stepping forward, "Nightmare...? I know this is your doing,"
"Please," The closer you both stepped, the more obvious it was that this was a little girl. "I want my momma," her voice sounded like a recording as if the voice came from old speakers. "I want my momma,"
"If he wants to play games, then I'll play along," you tell Stephen, "where's your momma then?"
Slowly, the girl's finger stretched out, greying with bloodied cuticles. Bit by bit, she pointed up at the ceiling, blood slowly dripping from where she directed. Both of you looked up, Stephen's hand reaching upwards. How you wished you hadn't asked.
A woman dressed in all white, her abdomen bloodied and neck broken, had clung to the ceiling above. Her black hair swayed back and forth as each crack of bones adjusted her neck properly, mouth-watering. She screamed like a banshee, tackling you into the ground where a hole appeared.
"Y/n!" Stephen yelled, trying to grasp out for your hand, only for the woman to cut three deep wounds into his palm. He fell back with a hiss of pain, cradling it against his chest.
"You're not going anywhere," a voice whispers into his ear. It blew out the magic from his other palm, dragging him into the darkness while doing so.
~~~
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I recommend reading the scary part while listening to Mr. Sandman (Broken Mall speaker version) on YouTube at 0.75 speed because I am TERRIFIED in my bf's room rn waiting for him to get back from work- help-
