Night Terrors

Every night the dead return. Dredged up from the depths of the past, they seek me, crawling out of the fog of memory, to remind me of my failures. They lurk behind my eyelids, laying in wait to ambush me as i sleep. Family or friends, all of the faces share a common bond: they lost their lives because of me. This task cannot be avoided; i must face them, i owe them that much. These are demons of my own creation.

Jake's eyes haunt me, peering out of the mists. The color of glacial ice, clear as cut glass, they stare at me. As i watch, my brother's eyes cloud over; the ice has begun to melt despite the cold caress of death. His voice echoes out of the void, "You failed them Lucius." There is no need to wonder who he refers to. They'll all make their appearances.

Dad's eyes, so very similar to Jake's, peer out through a haze of pain. The azure orbs accuse me as he falls. His piercing gaze holds my own as his bullet-riddled body slumps to the ground. His shattered body lies in the midst of the splintered palisade that served as a buffer against the world's evils. Those evils spill unheeded through the gap now, but i can only watch the light fading from my father's eyes. Swirling mists veil the scene but his dead eyes remain. After a moment they are joined by Walt's dull brown eyes staring sightlessly, accusingly, but even in death he refuses to waste words on me. They stare for eternity; finally i draw breath to beg for solace, but relief arrives unannounced.

Jim Two-Feather steps out of the swirling fog that surrounds us, wisps of mist eddying around his legs, and he moves to usher the dead away. As the trio departs, Jim levels his hawk-like gaze at me, wordlessly reminding me that he is sacrificing himself yet again to save me from the demons that haunt me, even as he joins their ranks and disappears into the haze.

For a time, the mists grow still, and i almost believe this macabre parade has ended. As i begin to relax my guard, a shrill scream echoes through the void. The voice is Meg's, and i desperately seek her within the fog. Her cry is cut brutally short and i stumble over my sister's corpse. The gaping wound across her throat grips my eyes, and i cannot wrench my gaze away, but i can feel her dead stare following me as her body drifts back into oblivion.

Arthur Caliburn's face peers through the mist next. His bespectacled gaze still seems shocked at the sword protruding from his abdomen, draped with his entrails. It's difficult to tell, even now, years later, if his shock derives from the sword's existence or the fact that it's his own blade that's killed him. It's my sword now, i muse, the old bastard had it bequeathed to me in his will, but it only seems fitting since i removed it from his corpse. Shocked from my reverie by the disappearance of his body, i cannot detect any movement in the fog that surrounds me.

It begins faintly, a throbbing in the mist. Soon the thrumming beat is recognizable as footsteps. It appears the Flock still seeks redemption, but i have none to offer. Father Josef leads the crowd, the shepard guiding his flock. His holy vestments are crusted with blackened blood, and his gaze entreats me for mercy; or does it offer absolution from my sins. The answer is lost as the horde surrounds me, pressing in, grasping, pulling, smothering me. Now the fog surges over us, blinding me and drowning the cries of the dead.

Imperceptibly, the mist thickens, until it begins suffocating me. Attempts to cry out are futile, and the pressure forces a gasp from my lips. Suddenly, i can breathe again and i feel a breeze on my face. It appears my ordeal is at an end for one more night. Shedding blankets as i rise from my bed, i can hear Rosa humming to Dominic across the dark room. She stands over Dom's little bed and her back is to me. My arm slips around her waist and i reach down to stroke my sleeping son's forehead. My wife leans against me for a moment before sliding to the floor to rest in a pool of her own rapidly congealing blood. My fingers come away from Dom's head covered with the sticky substance, and i realize that my family is dead. The memory of their screams causes me to flinch as i recall the spray of hot blood as knifelike claws rend Rosa's flesh. The wet smack of my son's body hitting the wall echoes through my mind. Sinking to my knees, i cry out to whatever gods are listening to end this torment as the mists rush in, preparing to renew the cycle all over again. My cries are lost in the howling winds that buffet my spirit, and as the eyes begin to loom out of the haze again, all is lost in darkness. My harsh breathing breaks the silence as i awaken in my small room in Near Boise, but i swear i can hear my brother's voice calling from the mists, "You failed them Lucius."