Chapter 3
Chapter
Three
Charlie snores.
Like…a lot.
I sip my tea and roll my shoulders while I hear a sound that can only be described as an eldritch growl comes from Charlie’s room.
We had dinner together and it was nice. Just a simple affair of spaghetti, salad, and garlic bread.
I made the spaghetti, Charlie made the garlic bread and salad and I had to give it to him, the man understood garlic bread on a scientific level.
We’d played a game of cards after dinner, something I appreciated for the fact that it kept my mind from wandering too far down the path I’d started down earlier.
When I thought about my parents, about the basement and the sound of the lock when they closed the door, how it was always cold no matter how many blankets I used, or the way the darkness pressed in around me making me feel like I was in a tomb, not my home…
well, things weren’t great on those nights.
I stayed home on those nights. If I went into town for company, or over to Buffy’s where the gang gravitated, I’d be found out.
Sunday was particularly astute to emotions even if she didn’t really seem to have any.
Charlie snorts and I almost drop my teacup.
Oh well, it was nice having someone else in the house, even if their snoring would prompt lesser women to take up arms. Though, I worried about what would happen if I had an episode while Charlie was here.
If I did, it was going to be tough to explain what was going on.
“Sorry…sometimes I scream in my sleep?”
“No, you can’t wake me up. No one can.”
“If I scream too loud, just put on some music?”
I sigh and shift in my seat. I look down at my teacup.
It’s empty now, just the dregs and some tea leaves that stick to the side of the porcelain.
The blend is something I came up years ago with while researching sleep and my dreams in the library.
It was a little tricky explaining to the librarian Mr. Prost what I wanted the books for, or why I was searching up plants and herbs.
“It’s for sleep. I want to get the best sleep I can to look my best for my wedding night. You know how it is as a Blossom.”
That had been enough of a reason for the librarian to hand over the books and show me how to use the card catalogue.
The apothecary in town was good to me, the woman, Ms. Sylvan was a friend of Ms. Donna’s and on the more discreet side of Sweet Tooth residents.
She made sure I had everything I needed for the tea blend I was sure would cure me.
The jury was still out on if the tea had cured me but I’ve been drinking it for a couple of years now and the longer I drank it the less I had night terrors.
Who knew a good night’s sleep mostly devoid of terror was just a mix of lemon balm, valerian, skullcap and lavender, away?
It was just enough of something to take the edge off before I went to bed.
I’d added in mugwort for good measure in this batch.
Charlie snores merrily away in the background, the sound almost soothing, because it reminds me that I’m not alone in the night.
Sometimes when I wake up, I forget where I am, and for a few terrifying moments I’m back in the basement without even the voice I whispered to for comfort. I’m there, under my house and sealed away from everyone else in the dark.
As long as I can hear Charlie snoring, I know for sure I’m not back in the basement so I guess his snoring is more than alright in the grand scheme even if there is a possibility that I’ll freak out in my sleep and have some explaining to do.
“No sense in worrying about things that haven’t happened yet. You haven’t had an episode in months.”
It’s true. It’s the longest I’ve gone without any night terrors.
Five months to be exact, and I’m not even sure if the last one really counted as a true night terror.
I’d had a dream I was falling and had yelled, rolling out of bed before I hit the floor.
I’d been on the floor for all of a minute before my door burst open and my parents rushed in to grab me.
“I’m okay, now. I promise.”
“Don’t lie to us, Meadow. Just go downstairs. Now. You’re going to ruin everything.”
I’d gone, reminding them that “I can walk” so there wasn’t really any need to carry/drag me through the halls of our too big house.
It hadn’t really worked. I’d gotten dragged and shoved downstairs, and locked in the basement in the span of five minutes.
My parents were a well oiled machine when it came to dispatching their daughter.
“You aren’t going to have an episode. You’ll see.
” I tell myself as I wash out my tea cup and set it to dry in the drying rack.
I walk down the hall and to my room. I almost lock my door but I don’t.
I stop myself from even closing it. If the unthinkable happens tonight, I don’t want Charlie thinking something is attacking me.
He needs to see straight away that I’m okay, that I’m just dreaming.
I sigh, get into bed and give the open doorway a last look before I settle under the covers and close my eyes. Maybe tonight I’ll have a good dream, one where the voice speaks to me and the red light appears.
It’s no great surprise that I do dream. And it’s not a good dream.
There’s no voice calming me, and there’s no red light that I associate with the safe zone.
I wake up screaming and thrashing in my sleep, because of course I fucking do.
Five months down the drain in one night.
It’s the cherry on top of everything that this is the first night that Charlie is staying with me.
When I have a night terror, I’m aware. I know what’s happening, every step of the dream feels real even though I know it’s not.
Tonight is no different.
I fall into the familiar dance of trying to wake myself up.
This time I’m in the woods outside of town, I end up here frequently in my dreams, even when they aren’t nightmares.
I walk through the trees trying to find my way back to town.
I try to look for anything familiar but it’s no use.
I’ve never been this deep in the woods. I hear a howl in the distance and then a growl close by.
A twig snaps and that’s enough for me to start running.
Whatever is in the woods with me gives chase, crashing through the underbrush and trees.
The sound of snapping jaws and falling trees fills the air.
I hear the leaves crunch underfoot and the leaves rustling above as whatever it is that’s running after me shakes the ground.
I clap my hands over my ears because it’s just so damn loud.
I keep running, though. I run faster and harder than I’ve ever run until I break into a clearing.
At the center of the clearing is a boulder and a light comes from it.
It spills out of the rock like water and runs over the ground towards me.
It’s red and orange and the light oscillates between the two and makes me think of fire. Like somehow the essence of a fire has been freed and is reaching for me.
I don’t understand how light can move like that but I don’t care.
I’ve seen this light before. Sometimes I’m in a windowless room with walls made of stone, other times I’m wandering on a summer’s day with the ocean a stone’s throw away.
Even when I know I can’t trust the idyllic scenes, I know I can trust the light.
It usually means I’m safe, that I’ll be okay until I can get myself to wake up.
I run for the light, straight for the rock.
Behind me a howl goes up through the night, the sound pushing me faster towards the rock.
I reach out a hand to the rock and the shining light that means I’m safe, and the second my fingers touch the stone I wake up.
But when I wake up there’s something different. I feel wrong, like I’m weightless and not in control of my body. I move my hands to push myself up but there’s nothing there to push on. Oh gods. What if I’m still dreaming? Sometimes that happens.
“Mulberries,” I whisper and open my eyes, ready to take on whatever sequel my subconscious has conjured up.
The ceiling is in front of me, not above me.
Well, okay, it is above me but it’s literally in front of me.
Like inches away. How did I get up here?
Is my bed floating? Oh gods, I bet I’m still asleep. This has to be another dream.
“Take control. Just take control,” I order myself.
It’s something I’ve done all my life. No matter how bad the nightmare, or inviting the place I wake up in, I know I can get out of it.
I can force myself to wake up if I focus.
I try doing that now but nothing happens, the ceiling stays just as close and when I raise a tentative hand to touch it, it feels firm and cool beneath my palm.
Holy shit. Am I awake? I jerk back and move to push myself on to my side, but when I put my hand down it swipes through the air. There’s nothing there for me to touch. No bed. No mattress. None of my thick quilts. Just air.
I look beyond my hand and understand why I can’t touch anything. It’s because I’m nowhere close to being on my bed. I’ve missed that mark by a good six feet. Am I flying? Is that what this is?
“No way.”
“Meadow, what the fuck are you doing up there? Get down this instant!”
I scream at Charlie’s voice and just like that I come crashing back down to earth and my damn bed. I hit it so hard that I bounce. Twice. The bed frame creaks and then a leg gives out a second later and I end up rolling off the mattress and onto the floor in front of Charlie.
“Knock next time,” I growl at Charlie from the floor.
He takes an exaggerated step back and knocks on the door. “Knock, knock, why the fuck are you floating? Is that better?”
“To be honest? No.”
“Figured.”
“Whatever.” I sit up and shove the quilts that made the journey to the floor with me off to the side. Floating in sleep was not on my bingo card when I was worrying about living with Charlie. It sure makes my night terrors look like normal sleep activities.
“Look, I’ve never done that before, okay? I don’t know what or why I was floating like that.”
Charlie laughs and points at me. “You’re a witch.”
I blink in surprise. “Come again?” I don’t know where Charlie is going with this but I’m honestly not in my right mind after floating and breaking my bed.
“Listen, tonight, at any point did you feel funny before bed? Or maybe at dinner? Like a little more magical than the normal feminine mystique kinda magical?”
“The feminine what?”
“Think, Meadow. Nothing that made you feel off? Maybe suddenly powerful, a little paranormal where you never were before? Did you bite into some pasta and suddenly feel like you could cast a spell or,” he gestures at the ceiling, “levitate?”
“Paranormal? Charlie, what the hells have you been watching on that satellite television you got last week?”
“Mostly nature documentaries but that’s neither there nor there, Meadow. Now, listen to me, a few days ago, I got into my head that Buffy was gonna need backup, okay? So naturally, I started tinkering with the book and what I could do to get her that backup.”
“Backup for what?”
“Backup to handle the changing world. We’re not all safe and snuggly in a cult bubble anymore, the real world is coming and it’s coming fast, and I was right. Those mini demons have been going ham all over town.”
It’s true. The mini-demons have been a menace. How could something so small be so troublesome? There needed to be a height requirement on evil.
“I can’t believe something mini-pig sized could be terrorizing us,” I tell Charlie with a serious look but he doesn’t share my porcine lament.
“Meadow, screw the mini-pigs, for one minute okay? Do you understand what I’m saying?” Charlie throws his arms out and laughs. “I made you into a freakin’ witch!”