Dreams, Memories, and Reality

Chapter 1-3

He had been here for five rotations of this celestial body, returning to the crevasse to sleep before its sun reappeared. Instinctively he knew he didn’t have to, but he was unwilling to brave its light until he was certain he would survive it.

Darkness was spent in learning more about where he was—and in feeding. At first he had preyed on small, noisy creatures that seemed to belong to the structures he presumed housed the primary inhabitants of this place. Soon he discovered there was larger prey available living within the depths of the tall plants that were predominant in the area.

The structures interested him. Some were constructed from the stems of the plants, others from rocks such as those that formed his crevasse. When he saw them, they were lit from within, as well as without in some cases. The outer lighting came from some type of bulb that glowed continually. His feeling when he studied the structures was that they were very primitive, but he wasn’t certain why he felt this.

Then he saw the first of the bipedal creatures who resided here. It was covered in some form of clothing that was alien to him, brightly colored, the bottom stopping above the joints of its lower extremities. He surmised that it was female from its mammary glands, although why she covered them was beyond his comprehension. He watched from the shadows as she walked to a strange two-wheeled thing and clambered onto it. When it roared to life he jumped, the loud noise startling him, and then watched as it carried the female away from her abode.

Once he was certain she was gone he crept closer to the rock structure that housed her. Peering cautiously inside he saw things that awakened vague memories for him; creations for sitting on and for holding objects. But crude, so unlike the dim pictures that flashed for brief instances in his mind before vanishing.

Tentatively, in case one of the small, noisy creatures he’d seen before also resided there, he put his hand on the handle he had seen her use when she exited, pushing and then turning it until it gave way, allowing him access to the interior of the abode. No sounds greeted him, so he stepped inside.

There was no light other than that cast by the full moon but that did not impede his ability to see that this place was broken into parts. The area he was in seemed to be for resting and heating if the items he saw were any indication. He tested one that was soft but narrow. It faced a stone niche filled with half-burned plant stems that still radiated warmth.

To one side he saw a smaller area that he decided to explore. The objects there, some of them, seemed more familiar to him—perhaps because they were metallic. He opened one and found it cold, holding containers. Picking one of them up, he opened it and sniffed before sticking a digit into the contents and tasting what covered it. He quickly spat it out, shuddering. Not food he decided, hastily closing the container. He tested the contents of another one with the same result. Whatever the female was keeping cold was beyond his understanding.

Going to the next metallic item, he saw knobs on the front and twisted one, jumping back when fire burst from the top surface. While considering that unsafe, he understood that it must have something to do with heating this area. He shut down the fire and then returned to the larger area. He planned on exploring more but the sound of the noisy means of travel alerted him to the fact that the female was returning to her abode.

Quickly, stealthily, he exited, going back to the shelter of the tall plants to watch her for a moment before moving away. Hunger assailed him. It was time to hunt and feed.

* * * *

“It was totally creepy, Pip.” Ellen shivered as she sat beside Philip on the steps of his porch. “I mean who comes into a place and sticks their fingers into containers of cottage cheese and left-over mashed potatoes but doesn’t bother to take my laptop which was sitting on desk, or look for money or, well, you know?”

“A hungry burglar,” Philip replied with a laugh.

“Not funny,” but her lips quirked up in a small grin. “Okay, maybe a bit funny. But seriously, Pip, it freaked me out when I realized someone had been in my house.”

“No s**t. Look, do you want to borrow one of my guns just in case?”

She shook her head. “I’ll make certain to lock the house next time. I mean I was gone like fifteen minutes, picking up some milk before the store closed.”

“Ellen,” he growled, “how often do I have to tell you that’s not smart?”

“Umm, once a week?” She tried to look contrite, failing miserably. “I can’t help it. That’s one of the reasons I moved here, because it felt safe, like things used to be when I was a kid.”

“Yeah, well you were a kid a hundred years ago.” Philip ducked when she took a swipe at him.

“Watch your mouth, young man. I may be your elder but not by that much. Well, all right, maybe by that much.” She chuckled, pulling a strand of her long white hair forward to look at it. “I need to get this cut, the ends are splitting,” she muttered before getting back to the reason she’d come to visit. “Maybe you’re right and I should borrow a gun, but a small one, just enough to scare someone, not kill them.”

“Ellen, that’s what guns do. But okay, I have one that should work.” He got up, going into the house. A few minutes later he returned, handing her a small pistol that fit in the palm of his hand. When she asked, he told her it was a Smith & Wesson 638. “It holds five rounds, is very controllable and accurate.”

She nodded, taking it hesitantly, tucking it into her bag. “I’ll keep it…somewhere.”

“With you when you leave the house. Promise?”

“Yes, I promise.”

“Good. Now, if you’re hungry, I have a couple of steaks begging to be eaten.”

Barnabas, who had been lying on the ground by the porch, pricked up his ears. Philip could almost hear him thinking, ‘Steaks?’

“You get the leftovers, dog, but only if you don’t beg,” Philip told him with a laugh.

“And with me here, there won’t be any.” Ellen reached over to scratch behind his ears. “Sorry pooch, and yes, Pip, I’m starving, so thank you for the invite.”

“Any time, you know that.” Standing, they headed around to the back of the house with Barnabas trailing close behind.

* * * *

Cold seeped into him, awakening him. Cold and a deep sense of aloneness.

The sun of this place had vanished once again. Darkness filled the crevasse along with cold breezes that echoed forlornly, causing his body and his mind to shiver.

Pushing himself erect he pondered his reason for being here, but no answers came. Only nebulous memories of a final punishment. For what he could not recall.

Cold and hunger sank deep within him. He had to hunt. And afterwards perhaps find covering such as the natives of this place favored.

He heard a brief sound not far from where he stood and smelled the creature, the life-giving force coursing through it. Slowly, silently, he stalked from the crevasse, peering into the darkness, his senses alert. He saw it, giant racks of bone springing from its head. It turned, facing him for a long moment, then swiveled swiftly, intent on running from him. One gigantic leap and he was on it, ripping out its throat even as it began twisting, trying to defend itself.

He drank deeply, feeling the life force enter him, rich, thick, setting his body afire with new life. Finally replete, he dragged its dead body away from his place of concealment, pushing it over the edge of the rocks, watching for a moment as it crashed onto more rocks far below.

Then he began his journey through the large plants toward the abodes of the bipeds. Soon he was standing in the shadows watching one of the places made of the plant stems. His senses told him it was empty. He inched forward until he was pressed against it. A quick glance through the fragile looking material covering a hole showed him a space with something he imagined must be for sleeping. Across from it was an open hole filled with the things the bipeds put on their bodies. With the cold that had him shivering, he now understood why they did that.

He tested the substance in front of him, pressing his digits against it forcefully until it broke. His life force flowed from slashed digits and he sucked them, willing it to cease. When it slowed to an occasional drop or two, he carefully removed the fragments from the hole and clambered inside.

Soon he was covered in the clothing that kept the bipeds warm. Taking more with him for the future he left the abode, slinking through the dark, back to his crevasse.

* * * *

“What the hell,” Philip said angrily as he drove up to his house, the car’s lights showing him a broken window as they flashed across the wall. Parking, he let Barnabas out and went to check the window. Barnabas started growling, the hair standing up on his back, his teeth bared. Philip turned quickly, scanning the tree line for any sign of the person who had broken in. He was tempted to tell Barnabas to follow the scent of the man but had second thoughts when he realized that traipsing through the woods in the dark of night after who knew what sort of person would not be his wisest move.

Instead he grabbed the dog’s collar, half dragging the riled-up animal into the house.

After closing and locking the door he let Barnabas go. The dog raced to the bedroom, followed by his owner who had to grab him again to keep him from leaping through the broken window.

“Sit. Stay.” Philip pointed to the doorway and reluctantly Barnabas obeyed, whining his protest. “I don’t care, I don’t want you chasing after some intruder,” Philip told him as he surveyed the damage. From what he could tell the only things missing were pants and shirts from his closet. Drops of blood leading to and from the closet told him that the intruder must have cut himself breaking the window.

After checking the rest of the house with Barnabas close at his heels, Philip felt certain he was alone. He made a call to the police, telling them what happened, and then opened a beer and sat down to wait for them.

They arrived twenty minutes later—not an inordinate amount of time considering he lived at the far end of the valley from the small town housing the police station.

“Philip, good to see you again,” Officer Delaine said, holding out his hand.

“You too, Oliver. I wish it was under better circumstances.” Philip shook his hand and looked at the second officer in question.

“This is Officer Clark,” Oliver told him. “He joined the force two weeks ago. Sam Clark, Philip Becket.”

Once the two of them had shaken hands, Philip led the officers into his bedroom, showing them the window and the spots of blood. While they collected what evidence there was, Philip made a list, as far as he could remember, of his missing clothes.

When they’d finished, the two officers left, telling Philip they’d keep in touch.

“So much for the evening’s excitement, Barnabas,” Philip said as he locked up. “I opt for a snack and then bed.”

Barnabas apparently was all for that, hitting the kitchen at a dead run to slide to a stop beside his bowls. Laughing, Philip dropped some treats in one of them, fixed a sandwich, grabbed a beer, and headed to his bedroom. Half an hour later he’d eaten, showered, and was dozing over the book he was reading. Finishing the beer, he closed the book, snapped off the light, and fell into restless sleep.