𝕋𝕒𝕟𝕘𝕝𝕖𝕕 ❤︎ 𝔽𝕒𝕥𝕖𝕤

More Than A Dream

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In the dead of night, nothing stirred not even a mouse. Thinking of their most recent actions, fascinations, or happy times. A snore here or there is cut short by a puppet repositioning themselves to continue their sleep. Even watchful Home's eyes were closed as it was fast asleep. The gated community had drifted off into dreamland.

On this night a known Wally Darling was tossing and turning in his sleep. The dreams of cheerful sunny skies with fresh crisp apples were amiss. Nightmares clouded his mind. They'd only become more frequent these days.

Usually, crickets chirping away the night would help with dozing off. Or the occasional sound of an owl hoot. However, since the day in the woods, the animals had gone completely silent. Something possibly spooked them. But what? Did he—Did they have a problem?

He wasn't sure what he felt, but Wally could recognize it as a need to run. Wally's head was spinning focusing on how dull and dreary the inside of Home looked in the early hours of the morning.

Rubbing old dried tears from his eyes he sat up. Not looking forward to another night of leaving his bed for a walk to tire him out. Yawning, he shifted to his side on the bed hoping to gain better sleep that way. No luck. Kicking off the blankets, less than soothing more stifling. The cold night air woke him up somewhat. Disheveled blue locks of his hair blocked his sight. A headache was setting in, as bags under his eyes showed.

Why were nightmares invading his sleep?

It didn't set in for him. Sitting on the vanity chair at the mirror in the dark, he opened his vanity drawer to a prepped makeup pallet to cover the undersides with concealer. The blue eyeshadow above to be added as a distraction.

In the top drawer, a journal was kept. An idea from grumpy Frank when he asked him about what to do. They originally suggested he ask Poppy for bedtime teas as a solution. At first, the chamomile worked like a charm. Going to Frank for advice left him with the option of trying coffee, which Wally wasn't even willing to try, he hated the stuff. So he decided to give it time by counting apples. He'd stopped at 7 unable to recall what number was next.

Clever Frank gave him the idea of keeping a journal because he couldn't remember his dreams. Wally read through them once he fully woke up the next day. The neighbors had asked him if he was alright. Which he'd wave off as "just a bad night's rest". The latest entry in his opinion was the worst one.

~~~~~

He was running in the woods. He couldn't see anything in the dark. A distant mirage of sounds grew closer from behind, yet he didn't dare look back. It was too horrible to look at. To see it. To see...them. All deformed, misshapen, drained from any resemblance of what they once were. Deep down he blamed himself.

He'd been a fool.

They're dead because of you.

Unable to run anymore Wally fell onto the grass. Looking down at his hands he sharply gasped at the red staining them. The blood oozed down his arms coating the dirt below. Trying to wipe them hastily, his hands remained soaked in crimson. The sky above was illuminated in a pungent fog. A sound from behind growing closer step by step made him want to avoid looking back even more.

It was taking its time relishing in his fear. By the time he felt the hand on his head, it was too late. Thus only confirming his demise as a harsh blow was given. Wally swore he heard his head get smashed in. His vision grew dark with one final phrase lingering.

"Be very very afraid."

~~~~~

Wally held the phone up to his ear, the other rested on the receiver. He hesitated in dialing the numbers. There was nothing wrong with calling someone. But at night, Wally knew the others would be worried immensely. Poppy is the first to suspect something is wrong. She has motherly instincts like that. Mentally he knew they deserved to know but didn't want that. If anything he wanted to involve them all less.

Waking up Home to chat would be an ideal solution. But Wally knew from past experiences that the house got cranky from being awoken so late. Especially after recently promising to not bother Home as much. And it was no secret to him that Home was sensitive about the issue because they knew what he was going through. More so from guilt itself. Instead, he opted to enter his art studio. Mockingly, the painting Sally and Julie had witnessed was the first painting to catch his gaze, frightening him. 

Other nicer paintings were on the floor nearby. One of Julie and Sally, the scenery, and a very old one of an apple. Some remained blank. After the odd day with the girls, he'd decided to take a break from painting. Perhaps he'd been so stressed he lashed out at the canvas. At least that's what he believed. 

So why didn't he throw it away?

Well, he knew why.

He'd tried to throw it away. Several times. Went as far as to bury it in the woods. No matter what he did it didn't help because it was always back on his front door after every try. No changes or marks on it whatsoever. The black paint stains hadn't dried somehow.

A hum passed his lips while shuffling his way to sit on the stool in front of the canvas. He stared at it for what felt like hours. The painter wished he could just rip it in two. He was missing something. His heart however kept telling him to see what it saw. Rubbing his eyes, he scanned for anything out of place.

The journal lay open on a surface nearby reading through his dreams he remembered something. No, recalled someone. Flipping through the pages of the journal he searched for it. Eventually stopping on the first encounter with the individual.

Normally when re-reading his dreams he'd believe that's all they were.
The nightmares repeating means something. A sketch at the comer of the page he'd done made him recall various other times it happened before. Home had assumed that it stopped because whatever had used them had enough of what it needed.

Wally worried about what this would mean. Another human. He didn't want to go through another "incident". The last one was the final one. They'd turned over a new leaf. Everything was going so well. Now that he was being plagued with nightmares about his friends being hurt again, what could he do?

His hands shook at knowing what he'd have to do next. Tears threatened to slip from the corners of his eyes. Yet he somehow mustered the courage to knock on the wall three times softly. Heading into the living room, Home's eyes looked at him upset. Slowly softening at seeing how disheveled he appeared leaving the studio doorway.

The lights turned on as Wally held the journal up to his chest.

"We need to talk..Y-you're not going to like it.."

Outside the Home, a popping sound came from the living room lightbulb breaking. None of the neighbors were aware, but Wally Darling knew that this was by no means anything compared to what was coming.

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

He's opening his eyes.
He's becoming aware of Y O U.
Too bad he can't change the past.
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Hello Readers,

I'm sorry for the delay in the chapter. I'm about to enter classes again, that combined with writers block was a struggle.

But anyhow I hope you're doing well. I'll try to upload another chapter before classes officially start. We'll see.

Thank you to those who've been reading this book. Ya'll are amazing. :)