Out on the middle of an island, at an exclusive resort, a woman was having a nightmare. It was a nightmare she was not enjoying, not a sweet sort of nightmare where she had control over the events. Rather, it was a dark nightmare where everything felt out of control. She’d laugh later over the details, mocking herself for being unable to remove herself from work, but within the world of the dream she would shake and shiver with terror.
She was serving a table and it was breakfast. Outside was cold and misty. That was common enough on the island. The new waiter, Brody, was serving a table while she watched him from the corner of her eye. She’d have to have a word about his style; this was an upscale establishment not the local pub down the road. If he didn’t learn to adapt he’d have to go.
“Oh yes, often dark in the mornin’, ye ken? Not much to do on these days but keep te yerself and hope the boogies dinnae come,” he was lilting to the much unimpressed guests. His smile didn’t serve to ease the tension.
The door flew open then, revealing a small girl with an elfin face. She was filled with terror at the sight of the girl, who was missing her left eye. Only a dark, loose eyelid covered whatever horror was lurking inside the dark socket and that wasn’t enough to protect the imagination of the dreamer.
In her mind, she was running down a dark hallway, part of the resort, a part only decorated by ancient, disturbing paintings that had been created by the resort’s son. But that was only for a second before she was jerked back to the breakfast room.
Everyone stared at the girl, who wore a sick smirk on her face as she stood there, arms behind her back.
“And who are ye?” Brody questioned, face distorted with disgust. The little girl’s smile spread as she walked to him. She seemed like a demon. Her knee-length dress may once have been white with a blue ribbon round the waist but now it only seemed gray with dirty dark spots all over.
“Who am I?” the girl whispered back. Brody backed up hastily, tripping on his over-large feet as he did and falling hard to the floor. The guests were silent in palpable fear. Even she was struggling to breathe. Who was the girl? She’d never seen her before and she’d been on the island for years. She always dealt with the new arrivals. When did the girl get here? What did she want? She surely wanted something.
The girl stopped nearly on top of Brody, who was sweating where he’d fallen. Her wilted socket fluttered briefly as the smile continued to spread, taking over her triangular face. It took her a moment to bring her arms around, revealing a rusty sawed-off shotgun. Only a breath of a second to fit it into her tiny shoulder. She stared down the top with her one good eye.
“Boom,” she whispered, then pulled the trigger.
The dreamer awoke, screaming and tangled in the sheets. Nightmares, nightmares. They would never come true.