It’s important for you to know that this didn’t start out like a nightmare. I made sure of that.
I made sure the spring sun was unclouded and at its peak so that you’d see a field of flowers like a cornucopia of reds and browns rather than the rust-red of dried blood, and sent a gentle breeze through so that you’d think that the susurrus of noise came from the trees blowing in the wind even though it came from the low hissing of the flowers.
The cirrus clouds, strewn across like the sky like so much cotton weaving, did not move, but I knew you would not stand still long enough for that to matter because the canopy swing I’d made was so beautiful. It looked like ivory in the sun, gleaming and bright.
It was only natural that you’d want to take a seat there, in that beautiful moment. I was worried you might have noticed something when for a moment a tendril of cloud reached across the sun and the lights dimmed enough you might see the swing was made of bone, but the dream reasserted itself well enough and you sat and were trapped.
You’re mine now. That probably scares you. Good. Fear is the first emotion I’ll drain from you. Then hatred, then sadness, then desire, then anger, and then onward, deeper. Oh, you may wonder what will happen to your hope. That’s easy: you’ll kill it yourself. Your kind always do.
