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failed to notice these details, as is the way of dreams.
Something was strolling boldly toward us, soaking up the
darkness.
“Hi,” said the whisper.
“Hello, little whisper,” I said. “Have you come to again
deny me what is mine?”
“I’m afraid he has,” the whisper replied. “You really
should have run. This can only go badly for you.”
“So you’ve intimated, through memory and fire and
death,” I said. “Thank you for that, by the way. It was quite
lovely. I’d like—”
“Enough of this stupid banter!” my father bellowed. “Let
this first death be a taste of the death to come, whispering
fool!” His hateful eye-light fell upon the whisper, revealing
a corpulent and unusual man. He was covered in stiches,
straps, ropes, and staples. Even his eyes, nose, mouth,
and ears were painfully sealed off from the outside world,
leading me to wonder how the whisper managed to whisper
at all.
“Oh, no,” said the shivering, sealed-up man. The sound
of straps stretching and stitches ripping began to fill the
corridor. “Now you’ve gone and done it. He’s coming,”
“Who—or what—is coming, whisper?” I asked.
“I call him The End of the World,” the whisper said,
sadly. “I’ve tried to keep him locked away, but I’m afraid he
gets out from time to time. You should see the awful things
he’s done, before I’m able to coax him back inside. But ever
since he killed me, he’s proven much more difficult to put
back. Goodness, is he ever a foul, foul thing. I’d wake up if
I were you. He’s all the more terrible inside a nightmare.”
A bleeding seam tore the man’s abdomen open, revealing
eyes the color of blood. They ignited, pushing back against
my father’s burning gaze. A terrible voice blasted into the
room, washing the lingering echoes of my father’s rage
from the air. “What a fantastic nightmare you’ve brought
me, Marvin! And you’ve even managed to corner my next
160 | Mark Anzalone