11. The Moon and the Chasm

Leila cowered on instinct, a primal fear taking control of her actions. She felt a compulsion to scratch and dig her way through the couch and straight through the wall. The entire den froze, and then shook like a damaged recording tape. She covered her eyes and shrieked, and found herself lying on her bed in her darkened room. As she gasped for air she noticed her skin was tingling and her limbs were shaking. She found no reprieve from her desperate state, she was sure it was not over. Her neck turned in a slow, deliberate motion and she shrieked again at the sight of a dark human figure crouching at the foot of her bed.

The scene was done in an instant. She was now outside her house, standing on the desolate street.

Clay, I need you, please Clay, show yourself.

“What are you doing there?”

She turned in aching relief at the sound of the familiar voice. Clay was there, at the entrance to her house, signaling for her to run back inside. Just as she was about to comply, she realized her legs were not responding. She was cemented to the center of the road, dead calm and silence turning the surroundings into quicksand, pressing down from all sides.

“I can’t move, Clay! Help me!” Her voice coiled and stretched in the wind, almost perceivable by sight in its unyielding desperation. Leila wished she had the ability to faint. She was sure she would have already if the scene was real.

“Come here!” his command was so casual Leila felt herself becoming infuriated on top of the crumbling fear that tacked her into position. “I said come here, before the moon gets you!”

“The moon?!” Leila’s peripheral vision widened, so she was able to still look straight at the entrance to her house, where Clay was; but also to the blackened sky, where an impossibly large moon was careening madly towards the Earth, growing large and livid. It would be a matter of seconds before it engulfed the sky like an ashy wave, its craters becoming yawning, gaping mouths ready to devour every inch of habitable space she could ever hope to know.

The feeling was real; a feral emotion that was like fire ants biting at every nerve in her body at once. She felt like her very spirit was being vacuumed from within, floating above her and threatening to leave her behind for good.

“Come. Here!” Clay spoke with such annoyed disregard for the situation that Leila once again found her footing when outrage and disbelief seeped into the overflowing vat of fear that was her spirit.

“I told you, I can’t move!”

Clay’s response came through clear and light.

“Yes, you can!”

Before Leila even realized she what she was doing, she lounged at Clay in anger and realized her legs were free. The moon was already making the skies thunder in a deafening pitch, but the second she managed to grab the threshold of her door and pull herself into the house the roaring ceased altogether.

“See, was that so hard?”

Clay stood in black jeans and a plain orange t-shirt. His hair still looked the same as in the previous dream, but his features were somehow more angular and chiseled than she remembered. The loose shirt made Leila notice for the first time that he was quite gaunt, but not bony like her brother or herself, and he carried himself straight and tall with ease. She’d often wished she had that sort of effortless gait instead of her dismal posture. Leila was aware that she slouched and arched her back at the hip too much, which made her look like an upright lizard. It was the result of conflicting advice she’d received about proper posture versus what makes a girl “look good”. She’d given up on both and just allowed her body to do as it pleased.

“Clay, what was that all about?” Clarity returned with the brief time she allowed herself to make these observations. She wasn’t mad at him anymore; her curiosity was softening the jagged edge of the previous events. She was ready to ask some questions.

“Well, you need to relax. This is just a dream, after all.”

They stood at the foyer just at arms distance away. The tenuous light filtering through the living room windows made his face take on a sharp contour. Leila was so mesmerized by his appearance that it took her a few beats before she could continue with her questioning. He didn’t seem to notice or mind that she was staring.

“Can we get hurt in dreams?”

“I think you assume I’m an expert at this whole dream business, but the truth is there’s not much more I know about it than you may already have found out.” He grabbed his right elbow with his opposite hand and shrugged as he spoke. “I just… I assume that anything that hurts you here… can only hurt you if you let it. You know what I mean?”

Leila considered this and concluded, “Like the moon, right?”

“Yeah, like the moon.” He smiled and raised his brows in agreement.

"I spoke to Evelyn on the phone..."

"Did you see her?"

"No."

"She very well could have been her, or her intent, at least. What she said could be important, don't forget it."

“Yes, I’ll make a note about the bologna sandwich when I wake up.” Leila groaned with an eye roll.

“The what?” Clay breathed through a chuckle that cracked his voice slightly.

“Nothing, trust me.” She enjoyed making him laugh, but her mind was still not at ease. Another doubt crept into her mind, one that made her tingle with its wealth of possibilities, which could very well be the key to solving the whole mystery in one blow. “But hold on here, if people can come into your dreams, real people you can see and hear, like you Ev, or that other guy, doesn’t that mean that I could also take my will into someone else’s dreams?”

Clay bristled like an angered cat and changed his tone into serious apprehension, “Other guy? What other guy?”

Leila’s spine froze at the boy’s sudden change and the wild appearance he took on at the mention of another presence.

“There was another person here, is that bad? Clay, you’re scaring me!”

“Leila, did he tell you his name?”

“He said his name was-

As she was about to say the other’s name, Clay morphed into a shapeless raven apparition with a chasmal, gaping mouth rushing at her; emitting a guttural thrum that would have severed her spirit had she not awakened with the utterance of his name.

-Soren.”