#end;

[ifthearmorfitsarchived]

It is past the midnight hour of October 31st which means...

POOF!

Minimus is back to his usual self. He turns this way and that, making sure nothing is still left behind, “That was odd... It’s a bit of a shame. I was rather growing fond of those tails. They’re more voluminous then my own, but some things must come to an end. It was.. pleasant experience I suppose. At least I’m not feeling the need to run about.”

[sykothoughts]

[igxitixn]

[insightandempathy-blog]

[ * His HP has reverted to normal. ]

[literalillbeats]

Day 7

You wake up staring at a familiar ceiling.

It’s a bare room, dusty from a lack of use, but it wasn’t the room that was between clinical and almost akin to a cell.

You remember now, albeit hazily, that you’re in your house.

Not the one in Russia, not the one in Texas, but the one in San Francisco. The one you’d stayed in months ago before–

–Before what?

You sit up, pressing your palms into your eyes- god, your eyes hurt so much- until you see stars, trying to remember what had happened.

School. You’d been going to school here. Not here, here, but to a University nearby.

Brothers. You have brothers. They went back to Texas when you’d finished enrolling.

You find your phone in your pocket, checking the time, the date, realizing with a start that finals should be over by now, but you don’t remember taking any exams at all. Nor do you even remember studying, working on submissions; everything in the past week? Nothing. You remembered nothing.

All you remember was getting dropped off somewhere in the dead of night, and wandering back here, collapsing onto the bed, and passing out.

You find your shades on the bedside table and slip them on, concealing your eyes, as you would on any other day (right? That is what you did, wasn’t it?), and make your way out of the house.

It was midday, people were out and about, not paying any mind to the wanderer aimlessly walking down the street.

[spillingfrommydreams-blog]

You didn’t wake up in another room at all. You woke up outside of a house and that was when you understood that a person’s mind was like a house and the way the mind and body and spirit had been treated in the waking world would affect what was inside.

The house before you was ugly. The wood was rotten and soaked, there were broken windows, and the front door was locked.

You knocked, the door swung open, and you remembered what you were trying to do the moment floor-boards squeaked under your weight. You were trying to see and retain all you could, because this was the mind of a man who had an unhealthy penchant for young children.

There was one body that had never been recovered, and the family simply wanted to lay their child to rest.

There was broken glass on the floor and there was a piece of carpet that had been parted, revealing a latch and when tugged, a murder of crows flew at your face, your eyes, your skin.

Crows and a hidden hatch and a wall of broken glass and at the last, when the black wings moved elsewhere, you saw a sign, you felt wrath, you understood and that understanding nearly brought you to your knees.

This man’s thoughts were darker than anything you had ever tasted in the back of your throat.

That sign was part of an address, no more than a hunch, but many days later, you received a call that stated that the young girl was alive and it was all thanks to him, that the experiment was a success.

You saved a young girl’s life. That was worth how ill you got afterwards, it was worth having to sleep in the bathroom for a few night’s straight.

You agreed to being called upon whenever you were needed, because there were more people out there who could be saved, not only because of you, you’ve never thought very highly of yourself for that to be true, but because of this new...invention.

You didn’t know yet that prolonged exposure to falling into that world of dreams would give you the ability to fall into anyone’s dreams. You didn’t know yet about the damage you were inflicting on the house that was your own psyche.

All you knew was that it was wrong to let yourself sit and do nothing. You would never be able to live with yourself if you did that.

You were a secret and it was an unspoken expectancy that you tell no one about this. Who would believe you? There was no such thing as this sort of technology, there was no such thing as living nightmares, as monsters that were born from the hearts of man, for men were monsters in and of themselves.

You couldn’t pull the trigger. But you could do this and teach the students that you loved.

You’ve never seen the boogie-man, but you have a dreaded suspicion that he exists. Verses

[holdyourfiire]

And forward would you march, the soldier-boy, returned a man, a knight of silver amid a city of gleaming, gloaming BLACK.

You’re not what they call you, for you are what you make yourself.

You just want for a change to happen and you’re unwilling to wait.