Acrylic Bones

Sean came awake instantly. He jerked upright in bed, his clawed hands grasping at the blankets. His heart beat so wildly it threatened to burst from his chest, and his breathing hammered in his lungs. For a long while, he simply stares wide-eyed into the darkness. Eventually, his breathing fades back to a shaky normal, and his heart rate does not feel like a second pulse.

"Just a nightmare." he whispers, collapsing back down onto his pillows. The satin is cool under his body, and he pushes the sweat-drenched blankets away down the bed. The air is cold against his skin, but he doesn't mind. Closing his eyes, Sean draws a deep breath. It's still early. He still has time to sleep.

Flicker.

A drop of blood falls through the air, shattering like glass against the ground. As it explodes, a girl screams. Her voice rips through the air, as though he was the one shattering.

Flicker.

A man walks down the street. All is dark but the streetlamps above him. He raises one hand, sucking on the tip of his finger. As he raises his face, Sean sees the eyes. Eyes which are completely black.

Flicker.

A golden ring floats in a dusty room. As he reaches out for it, the ring turns to fire. As he stumbles back, he can just barely see a figure, standing inside the ring of flames.

Flicker.

Leaves crunch under foot. His breath hammers in his lungs. Sticks and twigs snap underfoot as Sean runs through the forest; tripping, stumbling. He rounds a tree and freezes, waiting. The full moon shines overhead. Nothing can be heard except for the wind in the trees. And then something strikes him, flying out of the darkness like a blur. He screams as the assailant bears him to the ground, but the scream is not his own voice. There is a ripping sound, like that of wet cloth. Then the vision shatters, like a mirror struck with a hammer. The shards of glass tear through Sean's mind, and he gasps, his neck snapping ridged and his face raised in the moonlight.

He waits a long time for another vision, but none comes. Raising one hand to his face, Sean runs his fingers through his hair and wipes away the beginnings of tears in the corners of his eyes. Pushing himself to his feet, he stumbles stiffly to the window. Placing his hands on the mantel, he gazes out through the dusty glass and up into the sky. The full moon shines overhead, luminescent above the treetops. Sean breathes deeply, his mind still numb from the visions.

"I need some fresh air." he whispers.

Grabbing clothes at random from the dresser beside him, he steps into a pair of boxers and pulls his jeans up around them. Cinching a belt around his waist and pulling a black t-shirt down over his head, Sean rolls his neck to either side and stretches. He opens his door, the slight creak making him curse under his breath, and creeps past his mother's room. No sound comes from behind the wooden door. Slipping on his brown-leather shoes and pulling his matching jacket about his shoulders, Sean pries open the front door and slips out into the frigid moonlight.

"Aright," he murmurs quietly, rubbing his hands together and breathing into them. "What do you mean, dreams?"

In the forest, something cracked.

Sean whirled towards the noise, taking a small step back towards the cabin. His eyes, pale blue and large in the darkness, search the forest around him. Everything is dark and shifting, the shadows playing hide and seek among the fallen leaves.

"Hello?" Sean calls softly. Immediately, he breathes out in disgust.

'Hello?' he berates himself silently. 'Hello? Are you fucking stupid, Sean! The cliché horror movie mistake, and you go right ahead and do it! Idiot! Idiot! Idiot!'

The noise comes again, this time from further off to his left. Sean whirls, his hands coming out of his pockets. One of his feet slides back slightly, and he turns his body. He had been in enough fights as a boy to know what to do. This time, though, he didn't think it would matter. The wind ruffles his spiky blonde hair with cold fingers. He waits, tense, as the silence drags on.

And then the screaming starts. It is the same as his dream - the voice identical. It tears apart the silence, throwing it discarded to one side.

Sean's body acts before his brain. Taking off from where he stands, he runs toward the forest and plunges into the trees. He follows the noise; the inhuman shrieking. Branches whip his face and draw blood from his lips as he careens through the woods. Branches and rocks threatened to trip him, seeming to rise up out of the hard-packed ground. Newly fallen leaves crunch underfoot. The darkness is everywhere. And then the screaming stops.

It vanished, as though the sound had been severed using a pair of scissors. Cut off instantly, fading into the night air.

"Fuck it." Sean growled. "Who's there?" he yelled into the night. "What's wrong?!"

No one answered, the forest staying dark and quiet around him. Sean turns a circle, and immediately realizes it's a terrible idea. His direction is gone.

Then he sees the figure. It is tall, and has it's hands tucked into it's pockets. Or at least, that's what it looks like. Short black hair sticks up in small, tangled spikes above it's forehead. It's face is hidden in shadow, but Sean can tell it is watching him.

"Who are you?" he whispers.

The figure doesn't reply. It simply raises one arm and points. Then it is gone. Sean didn't even blink. One second the silhouette was there, tall and mysterious, and the next is was not. It vanished like smoke on the wind.

"Hey, wait!" Sean called, running to where the figure had stood and looking around wildly. It couldn't just disappear like that, he knew. Nothing could just ... undo itself. Crouching down, he studies the ground for tracks. There are none. Even where he had seen the figure standing. Straightening, he turns in the direction the figure had pointed. With careful steps, he makes his way through the forest.
He knows as soon as he finds it. Stumbling behind a tree, he empties his stomach. Bile burns his throat as he heaves, shaking as his fingers clutch the tree beside him.

"It can't be real." he murmurs. "There's no way ... can't be real. Not real."

Inch by inch, he comes around from behind the tree once more and stares at the scene in front of him.

"God, don't let this be real - please."

The wind whispers through the trees, terrible secrets hidden in its light voice. One moment it comforts him, caressing his cheeks with soft hands, and the next is mocks him, laughing through the leaves and the branches. It's naturally dry rustle a chilling chuckling, like a knife against bone.
Sean walks forward with slow steps, crouching beside the girl. He uses one finger to lightly brush a strand of dark brown hair back from her eyes. He knows this girl, he realizes. He has seen her before. Leaning down, he puts his ear close to her mouth to check if she is breathing. She is not. It's probably for the best, Sean thinks, standing. Around her, blood is painted on the ground. Not spread in a pool, but drawn. As though an artist has used her body as a paint tray. Two wings spread out, like those of an eagle. If they had not been so horrible, they might have been beautiful, so intricate was the feathered detail. Above the girl, between her outstretched wings, there was a message.

'Engel nicht willkommen'

"Angels not welcome." Sean whispered. The bark on the tree beside him splintered as his fist struck it, and he sobbed in frustration. Tears did not come, though.

Turning his back on the scene, he strode into the forest. Such was his anger that he didn't even realize where he was walking until he stood on the edge of the clearing, staring at his small cabin. A light was on inside now, he saw. A figure moved about, and then sat down on the couch. He watched for another moment through the glowing window, gauze curtains flowing around it.

His shoes are silent against the ground, but the wooden steps creak softly beneath his feet as he mounts them. The door clicks open in his hand.

"Hello, baby. Enjoy your midnight stroll?" his mother welcomes him as he enters the cabin. Then she sees the look on his face, and rises to meet him. Taking him in her arms, even though he is by far the larger, she holds him tight. "What's wrong?"

"There was a girl ..." Sean says, feeling stunned. His anger has drained away now, leaving only a dull, aching hollowness behind. "... In the forest ... she ..."

His voice cracked like the spine of an old book, and Sean raises his head to the ceiling. Tears spill from the corners of his eyes. He can taste the blood in his mouth, the cuts in his lips stinging from where the branches had sliced them open. He could feel the welts on his face, both searing and throbbing in turn. But it was none of this that caused him to cry.

"I knew her." he gasped, trying to catch his breath. "She worked in the beer store. She ... oh my God. She's dead. She died ... because of me."

"No, dear." he mother said calmly, tightening her grip on him. "None of this is your fault. I'm sorry you had to see her, but this has nothing to do with you."

"She..." he began, but his mother cut him off quickly.

"You have to go to the police." she said, holding him at arms length and staring him in the eye. "You have to tell them what happened."

"I can't." Sean whispers, dropping his gaze. "They won't believe me."

"Why not?" his mother asks. "Sean, what aren't you telling me?"

He breaks free of her grasp and moves to the nearest armchair, which he falls into. Tilting his head to the ceiling, he breathes out slowly.

"I saw the police investigating the body last night. A different body. An officer saw me by the scene and questioned me. He thought I did it, ma! All the evidence pointed to us. If I tell them another body ... another girl ... has been found, and she was right beside our cabin, and I found her ..." he swallowed. "No. I can't do it."

"You have to do it." his mother said, sitting on the couch and leaning over to put a hand on his arm. "It's the right thing, Sean. You know it is."

"I know." he whispered hoarsely. "There's ... another thing."

"What?" his mother asked, hearing the tone of his voice.

"I think ... I think I was supposed to find it. I think something is threatening me. It ... wants us to leave."

"Who told you this?" his mother asked, shifting over on the couch to lean close to him secretively.

"I had a dream. There was this girl running through a forest, and ... something caught her. I didn't see what it was. And there was this ... ring of fire. Except it was made of gold, too. Like ... golden flames. There was a man inside of it. I think ... it might have been God."

He left out the part about the black-eyed man. Both parts.

"I don't know what they mean," his mother said, shaking her head slightly. Raising one hand, she pressed two fingers to his forehead. "But dreams are important. They always have been. Yours, most of all. Listen to them."

"How can I listen if I don't know what they're trying to say?" Sean scoffed. "Why can't these messages ever be self-explanatory? I'm so sick of the riddles!"

"Me too, baby." his mother said softly, stroking his cheek with one finger. Then she rose from the couch and went into the kitchen. "Why do you think the killer cares about you so much? You seem convinced. Want some tea?"

"There was a ... message. Written in blood."

His mother froze where she stood, looking back over one shoulder. Her blue eyes were wide, her face disgusted.

"It said ... Angels not welcome."

"Jesus." his mother said, placing her hands on the counter and lowering her face. "It might have nothing to do with you, baby. It might just be the babbling of a serial killer's demented mind. It might be a man struggling with his own demons. It might be some ritual."

"Then how do you explain the dreams?" Sean said, turning in the armchair so that he could see her. "They told me where to go, ma."

His mother opens her mouth, and then shuts it. She shakes her head slightly.

"I don't know." she whispers.

"We should leave." Sean says suddenly, standing from the chair and running one hand through his blonde hair. "We should just go ... and the killings might stop!"

"Might." his mother said. Her deep blue eyes flashed. "They might stop, but you," she paused, meeting his gaze. "Would most certainly be a coward."

"How would-" Sean began to exclaim, but his voice died instantly as he heard the noise. The creaking of wood under feet. Both Sean and his mother turned towards the door. Steel slithers against stone as his mother drew a knife from the knife block, the metal glinting in the air, bright and sinister. There is a long silence, and then they knock. The sound echoes through the small cabin like thunder. Once, twice, three times. Sean glances at his mother, who nods almost imperceptibly.

"Be brave." she mouths to him.

Stepping forwards, Sean wrapped one hand around the door handle and turned, pulling the door open. As the figure came into view - he laughed.
The laughter sounds insane, even to him.