Dream Weaver

Chapter 1

      The city was always alive even in the dead of night. Knox watched through his tall window frame as cars passed by. His cigarette burned against a chill in the air while droplets littered his view of the street below. There was a quiet break in the traffic giving shadows jurisdiction over the mostly sleeping metropolis.
        A mist-filtered streetlamp was the only illumination over the concrete below. In the distance, he could see the form of a man cloaking himself in the darkness. The few night owls, stalking about the sidewalks below, didn’t give any hint to noticing the misshapen form.
    The being was familiar to Knox, this wasn’t the first time it appeared to him. Its shadow always hovered at the edge of the faintest light fading in and out never to be directly seen. As a child he named it Jack, simple enough.
            Knox was unsure of the shadow’s agenda but personifying the phenomenon made it easier to cope with it or him. There were times Jack was not as shy and either by accident or intent interfered with others close to Knox, distancing his small amount of loved ones even further away. He pressed the cigarette between his lips inhaling the calming smoke.
          Jack almost seemed distinguished with his tall demeanor and fedora looking hat. It was the most defined image he’d seen of him since he was a teenager in a place much farther away from here. His oldest acquaintance whom he’d always assumed to be a simple watcher, Knox began to worry, had done so much more.
    A car’s headlights plummeted through the street causing the dark form to retreat back into the night. Knox closed his eyes exhaling smoke from his nostrils as a flashback crept into his mind of when he was a lone young man caught in a cycle of self destruction.
           He often relied on the aid of a pill or alcohol to sleep, without the torture of night terrors to wake him. He sought sanctuary in a recurring dream of a girl who shared the same sad confounded life he did. Like a current of electricity the energy of her memory caused the hairs to stand up on his skin.
    He wasn’t sure of her name, her age, or hell even where she was from. All he knew was he was irrevocably connected to this person despite never officially meeting her. She was a big part of the skeletons from his past that he buried so deep he often forgot their existence. Jack’s appearance brought all these bones back to the surface.
           Knox didn’t harbor foolish ideas, aware she could very well be some coping mechanism from a desperate and lonely childhood. He had been married and divorced, girls had come and gone but her eyes would haunt him for the rest of his life even if they were a figment of his imagination.
    Cars began to pile along the paved surface below once more obstructing most of the view into the shadowed corners around the brick buildings. Knox scanned the sidewalk and alley for the flexing outline of his phantom, only to find he had vanished.
          He pushed himself away from the window treading across his wood floor. He put his cigarette out in an ashtray on his nightstand as his eyes locked onto the door across his open apartment that led to his studio. The door swung open with no visible force.
        It had been years since he painted in his sleep he thought he would have been used to the raw power that came over him. Once, his acting career took off he hadn't had any visits from his mysterious muse.
      He began to shake uncontrollably, fear laced with desire. He hesitated a moment wondering what would happen if he didn’t give in to the summoning of sleep. He studied his apartment, the high end furniture, the swanky décor, his wall of eclectic weaponry.
        All he accumulated he would like to say was from his hand alone but the boney finger guiding him when he painted told him otherwise. He wouldn’t be half the celebrity he was today without the pedestal his artwork put him on.
     Before, he could muster a further thought the cool grasp of hands tightened around his throat. The statement had clearly been made, he had no choice. He attempted to rip the hands of the invisible assailant from him but only grappled air.
      The same shadows from the street tugged at his peripherals. Still flailing for control he collapsed to the floor. Within seconds he was conquered by darkness.
  
      Knox wasn’t sure how long he had been out when he awoke on the floor next to his bed with a pounding headache. The coolness of the wood was seeping onto the searing skin of his exposed upper body. He reached up using his bed cover for support to help him stand. Finding his feet unsteady, he leaned on the edge if his mattress to keep the room from spinning. A sharp pain shot through his knee joints, reminding him he wasn’t exactly as young as he once was.
    He caught his reflection in the dressing mirror on the wall across from him. He examined his features and was sure he would find something atrocious. But his eyes were still a steel blue and his face was a bit rugged with stubble, no sign he was attacked.
    It took him a minute to recall the entire terrifying episode that had landed him in his current state. He shook his head at his reflection, realizing he was powerless against whatever was happening. He ran a hand over his disheveled brown hair, while surveying the slender bulk of the muscles in his arm, then in spite punched the mirror. He glowered at his fractured reflection, letting out a sigh as he walked around the corner to his kitchen.
          He rinsed the blood from his knuckles for a few moments before wrapping it in a kitchen towel from nearby. He made his way to the bed seating himself back on the edge as he glared in contempt at the door leading to his mystery masterpiece on the other side. His phone began to buzz on the night stand finally calling his attention to something else.
         He hesitated on answering when he read his manager’s name flashing on the screen. He swiped at the icon to answer knowing his manager would only continue to call if he didn't.  “Hey Cliff, what’s up?” He asked as nonchalant as possible.
    “What’s up? Are you trying to give me a heart attack? I was about to call the police thinking you pulled a woe is me artist fit and overdosed in your apartment or some shit! You missed your photo shoot with High Gear Magazine! I’ve called your phone like fifty times…”
    “Jesus, take a breath man- sorry- I was just working in the studio, and you know how I can get in the zone. Time just seemed to slip away from me.”
         Knox pulled the phone from his ear to retrieve the date from the corner of the screen it was Tuesday, which had meant he had lost a whole day.
        He replaced the device as Cliff continued to scold him. Not truly listening he picked up his pack of cigarettes from the nightstand, taking one out and lighting it. He heard Cliff’s voice raise an octave, “Are you even listening? Hello, Knox are you there?”
    “Yeah man…” He breathed in the phone’s receiver.
    “Then come and get me from the damn airport right now!” Cliff had a harmless short temper that Knox at times felt was very amusing.
    “Can’t you get a cab? By the time I make it across town you could be meeting me at Donovan’s.” Knox retorted into the receiver as he relaxed against the nicotine in his cigarette.
    “Well, if you had remembered we had a meeting in the first place and… and you know what? This is all falling on deaf ears anyway. Be at Donovan’s in an hour!” With the last word Cliff hung up in a huff.
    Knox tossed the phone onto the mattress followed by a refocusing rub of his chin with his hand. He placed his hands on his hips as he paced the floor resorting to more self imposed decision making. He wanted to see what was behind the door but he wasn’t sure if he was ready.
             He instead walked over to his dresser pulled out a random t shirt, scanned the room for his misplaced pair of jeans and decided first he’d meet Cliff. There were now more, career oriented, pressing matters at hand. Cliff would have his balls tied in a noose if he messed up anything else. He would go kiss Cliff’s ass some, all while trying to rejuvenate his spirit with some much needed beer.