King of Shadows: Of Blood and Tears

Chapter 3: The Catalyst

Maximus woke from his sleep, confused where he was. His dreams to the fantasy land seemed all too real, and waking up from that false reality made it that much harder to fall back into place within his own, true reality. As if it were like placing a block on a decimated Jenga game.

He was saturated, becoming increasingly worn out by switching out his soaked garments every morning.

Dragons? It felt as though the baby creature knew who I was...Weird. Maximus thought, turning his light on in his room to scrummage through his closet for a warm, dry piece of clothing. The birthmark, floating down the entirety of his spine, burned like splotches of acid running down a road.

The boy felt a heavy sense of uncertainty weighing on his mind. He was indecisive about what his dreams had meant. And the only reason Max felt as though they could reflect some type of lesson was his theory that these dreams were different. They were not like his usual nightmares, nor were they anything like being paralyzed and tortured by indescribable creatures of the night. He shuddered at the thought of being held down by the physical representation of vileness.

Maximus's room was very large, about a thousand square feet in size, and looked like one large rectangle. The space had two pillars on both sides, medially. His door wasn't like any normal door, for it was a garage door that had to be opened and closed with a rope attached. The only light switch in the room was near the door and only lit one singular chandelier placed in the center of the room, right above where he moved his bed to. 

He could feel the chill of the concrete walls in his room, and the two outlets near the light switch were the only ones he had. Max bought an extension cord so he could have his twenty-inch television in the middle, in front of his bed. (Maximus very much loved to game, so electricity was precious to him). Though, Eliza had a sixth sense when it came to the wi-fi. Maximus was always kicked off whatever game he was playing as soon as it connected, as if she could sense his presence online. "Damned bastard," Max would say, mocking his friend.

Maximus went upstairs, looking for a quick bite to eat before he continued on his tree-ventures for the day. When he opened the sliding door to get inside of his house, his mom was sitting on a barstool, reading something at the kitchen counter. The counters were made of smooth, icy marble, and any spill or splatter was easily visible on its glossy surface. Not the brightest move, mom. He would think every time he saw a stain of some sort. Even the etchings on the "priceless" marble made him giggle to himself every so often.

"Good morning, Mom," Max said, walking past her into the kitchen, reaching for the fridge handle.

"How have your dreams been?" Eliza asked, sipping on what looked to be her fourth beer. She had light brown hair, usually tied up in a bun. Her face flushed with freckles, her nose small and symmetrical. She was slim, a few inches shorter than Max (which wasn't saying a lot, seeing as the boy was only five foot eight).

Maximus' eyes widened in disbelief as his face crumpled in confusion. She had never really explicitly asked about his dreams, and doing so now seemed...odd.

"They have been okay...I guess." Max looked away from her indifference, as if she hadn't a care in the world for the words that came out of his mouth. "They've recently been a little different. More magical." He looked back at his mom, and the look on her face sent little spiders up his extremities.

Goosebumps rose, and he could feel a pit in his stomach growing ever so slightly every time he made eye contact with her cold blue eyes. It was a face of disgust, of envy. A face that read "Your dreams are not real, you sound crazy, magic? I dread the day you were born. Why couldn't I have gotten a normal son who doesn't write his outlandish, psychotic nightmares in an idiotic dream journal?"