Chapter 12 – Pangolin
Weaver
I found myself in the midst of a dense forest. I knew I was in a dream even before I opened my eyes because instead of the expected noise from crows and crickets, I heard creaking, wailing and the loud ticking of an unseen clock.
I looked up and instead of seeing tall trees forming a canopy, I saw hundreds of limbless hands with fingers intertwined hanging roughly thirty feet above my head. Instead of the common shrubs and bushes shaping the undergrowth, I was surrounded by viscous web-like sap that clung to my legs. The ground was covered not by weeds or wildflowers, but by porous rocks that squished and oozed pus under my feet.
Yet the stench exuded by this chilling variation of the woods was oddly sweet. And the saccharine scent grew stronger the deeper I ventured into the forest.
Back in the comfort of my realm, I was surefooted. I didn't trip on the live vines that coiled around my legs. I easily slid past the hissing thickets that had rooted venomous mambas jutting out of the vegetation. I was not bothered by the flock of headless vultures that passed me when I came across an open patch of sky.
This was my home. And I had missed it.
I walked toward a familiar maple tree that appeared in most of my private nightmares. It had the most interesting foliage. Instead of leaves, the tree had jagged shards of mirror.
I walked toward the tree—my tree—expecting to see my winged form, but I cringed at what greeted me.
My father had allowed me entry to the dream world in my most horrific figure.
First off, I had a tail. I had a long, scaly, prehensile tail similar to a pangolin's. My forelegs were longer than my hind legs, but all four could be bent at three angles and were covered in scales and feathers. Each limb ended with a cloven hoof that had prominent claws. My massive girth was armored again like a giant pangolin's although my sides and underbelly were encased in a rough grey pelt. I had extended sharp bristles on my shoulders which connected a skeletal rhinoceros' head to the rest of my mammoth body. My father didn't even flesh out my skull. It was a bony cranium with glowing coals for eyes and pointy fish bones for teeth.
And as if I didn't look grotesque enough, I started frothing green matter at the mouth. It was ridiculous to see froth coming out of a skeletal head.
My father made sure that I would not want to be seen, would not want to interfere and would only want to watch.
But I was happy with the perk. For the first time, I didn't see entering a mortal's dream as a chore. I wanted to enter Selene's dreams and learn.
And I realized that everything I'd seen so far, except for the mirror tree, was her creation. This was her woven nightmare.
I couldn't recall ever creating anything comparable to my current surroundings.
Selene's conceptions were incredible. They were more exquisitely terrible than some of my own fabrications. Aside from the horrors that welcomed me, I encountered a herd of cottony eyes that bleated and pairs of ears fluttering like butterflies.
There was a skeleton stooping by a tree, picking a worm, eating the worm and letting the wriggling invertebrate fall through its bones unscathed. The skeleton would again crouch to pick up the worm to resume an endless loop.
Selene had a wicked sense of humor.
I heard a low guttural drone and it took me a second to comprehend that the sound came from me. It was my beastly form laughing.
Laughter. It was a strange sound for me, but I found myself doing it more frequently lately. And I laughed even more.
My coal eyes glowed even brighter as I took in each concept, sound and nuance. If I thought about it, my current monstrous appearance conformed to the setting.
Had she created me?
I shook my head at the idea. Of course, she hadn't. That would be my father's hand.
The syrupy scent hit me again even though the skull I carried had no nose. It was a familiar scent. I had tasted it recently in the mortal sphere.
Hershey's Kisses.
I would have licked my bony lips had I any tongue. I kept trudging instead until I came across a clearing where the fragrance was strongest.
And my coal eyes shone their brightest when I saw her.
Now, I understood the blend of coal, emeralds and chocolate.
Selene stood in the center of the glade. Instead of a grassy meadow, smoldering coals covered the space. Each combustible piece would burn to ashes that then swirled in the air and glittered like pulverized diamonds. Selene would extend a hand toward a glinting cyclone of ashes and form yet another inconceivable vision.
At the moment, five small twisters surrounded Selene and I watched in awe as a water dragon, a flightless griffin, a spikey two-tone peacock, a wereporcupine—which was the cutest thing I'd seen in a while—and an elderly version of a famous grunge band's vocalist stepped out of each tempest.
As the remnants of dust fell to the ground and the next cyclones were just starting to build from the scorching rocks, I got to see Selene clearly.
Her arms were outstretched and her hands and fingers were bent like a graceful dancer's as she pulled out her next concepts. She was sheathed in a robe made of fabric similar to the earth she formed, the wrap's hem fused to the terrain. Every part of her body was covered except for her hands and face.
Her face looked different.
Still youthful, but older. Or perhaps not older, but boundlessly wiser.
Her eyes blazed like emeralds and the ingenuity that glistened from them was blinding.
And her lips were not pale or pink or red. They were painted caramel. And I could literally taste them even from a distance. Hershey's Kisses milk chocolate filled with caramel.
Again, had I any tongue, I'd be licking my lips.
Selene smiled and pouted and bit her lip as she concentrated on forming her visions. She laughed when she saw the porcupine howl. She looked so happy and alive.
I saw Selene who was so shy and sad and small in her world. Here in my world, she was bigger than life.
No wonder I found myself pulled to her in her realm. Her imagination was my reality.
I found myself padding toward her, but I snapped out of my trance and stayed hidden behind the shrubbery of tangled snakes. I remembered my father's warning and I did not want to forfeit this gift.
Also, I was extremely hideous. Erebus' design was too bizarre even for my taste.
I was content to watch her from a distance. I now had an idea how Narcissus felt although I was not charmed by my own reflection. It was the weaver before me that had me captivated. I could stare at Selene in her element forever.
Until I saw another figure materialize behind her.
The winged god did not rise from any of the cyclones Selene formed. He took a step toward Selene—a realization of everything humanly striking. He was tall and lean and carved like every woman's fantasy. He was dressed in his favorite dark suit, his hair and great black wings gleaming against the backdrop. His eyes glinted silver and his nose was straight once more.
I growled, badly tempted to seize and decapitate the god who was now smirking at me, having seen me behind the bushes.
It seemed Morpheus had also asked our parents a favor. He probably asked our mother.
And he got to fly into Selene's dream in his best form.
But as tempting as it was to mangle my brother, I didn't want to jeopardize the twisted favor Erebus had allowed me. So I shrunk back into the breathing vines, not wanting to see how Morpheus would seduce Selene in a world where I had thought I'd have the tiniest edge.
Morpheus should not be here. This was a nightmare. So quickly it had turned into my own green-eyed terror.
Except that as I took a step back, Selene raised her luminous eyes and looked directly at me. The mambas and garbled vines moved aside and all the drifting ash fell to the ground.
And I was out in the open. At my most gruesome.
But Selene was smiling at me.