Dream

 

I had a dream last night. Not like any of my normal ones, either. Instead of playing the hero, no, in this one, I was a thief, a common burglar, breaking and entering a stranger’s home to steal objects for my profit. In my dream, I was excited. It was a big heist, taken a lot of planning and scouting to get inside. But now, I was in. The house was magnificent. I can remember each and every detail of it. Through the door, there was a main foyer, with a set of stairs straight ahead. There were doors at each side of the stairs, and on the walls to the side. The door on the left hand wall led to a small family room, sparsely furnished, nothing of value inside. The one on the right side wall led to a bathroom, ornate, but of no real value. The doors to the side of the stairs both led to a kitchen, which I would get on my way out.

 

The stairs themselves were made of a brown colored marble, simple and elegant at the same time. The second floor of the house was one large room, a gathering place for the family, an office, a place for parties or small gatherings. There were three doors on the far wall, the one on the far right leading to the master bedroom, the one on the left to the guest bedroom. Straight in the middle was a hallway, with doors to the closets and two bathrooms at the far end. It was a strange layout, but I knew most of it by heart. It would have been stupid to come here unprepared. Off to the left wall, there was a large fireplace, a steady blaze crackling merrily within the grate. There was a large sofa, and two especially large chairs in front of the fire, the warm glow casting deep shadows over the wall, my own shadow included as I stood at the top of the stairs, turning my head this way and that. I was looking into the fireplace when I heard the sound of a door opening behind me, the soft step of a person making their way to my back. Quickly, I turned, and what I saw took my breath away.

 

A young woman, about my age, was walking towards me, eyes closed. A hand was buried in her waist long red hair, and with a sigh she flipped it out, opened her eyes, and put her hand on her waist. She had eyes of a violet hue, their stare rooting me to the spot. She looked magnificent, standing like that, one hand on her hip, those eyes staring at me, pale white skin against a form-hugging white nightgown, bellowing out at her legs to end near her ankles. With only curiosity in her eyes, she asked me You know stealing is illegal, don’t you? That made me laugh. Our gazes were locked, but I turned away first to look back at the fire. Illegal? Of course I know that. But it’s hard to get a job these days, even harder to keep one, and even with all the risks involved, this seemed to be the best choice for a person like me.

 

Her laughter was like a burbling brook, when she laughed at my statement. Her footsteps brought her closer, and the silken feel of her hand against the back of my neck when she breezed past to stand at the back of one of the large chairs before the fire, one hand resting on the back of the chair, the other with a finger crooked in a ‘come hither’ gesture. Amused by this fearless and intriguing woman, I followed her. Seating herself in the chair she was standing next to, the woman gestured to the other chair, and with a smile on my lips, I took a seat. So you steal because you’re good at it? The question caught me off guard, and all I could do was nod. How good at it are you?  I was a little more prepared for this one. I haven’t been caught once, I told her, and I’ve made quite a living out of it. I have a moderately comfortable life, with good investments securing my future... I trailed off after that, her nodding head catching me off guard once again.

 

I could use a person like you, she told me. I’m looking to expand my business, and a person of your talents are necessary. I burst into gales of laughter at this. Lady, you want to hire me? Why would you want to do that? We don’t even know each other. The young woman cocked her head to the side, her violet eyes piercing deep inside me. Then she laughed. My name is Anastasia. What would yours be, good sir? I looked at her, and then shrugged. I’m Henry Starling. What kind of business do you run?  She looked at me again, a hint of a smile on her face. A collection agency, of sorts. Of course, some of my clients aren’t always willing to pay up. So, that’s where your talents come into play. I rubbed a hand against my chin, thinking. Is the pay good?  Again, she laughed at me. Like nothing you could imagine. That sealed the deal. Well, Anastasia, I don’t see why not. I’ll work for you. Triumph was in Anastasia’s eyes as she rose, coming closer. She put a hand on my shoulder, and leaned in closer. Well then, Henry Starling, let us seal the deal. She pressed her lips against mine, and fire rushed through my veins. I wanted to scream in pain, but with her kiss, I couldn’t breathe. On my left wrist, I saw a tattoo of a skull with crossed scythes behind it forming from nowhere, and then the pain made me black out.

 

            Gasping, sweat covering his face, Henry Starling shot out of bed, fear in his eyes, along with pain, one hand resting on his neck, straining for breath. The dark closed in on him, using his fear against him, but after a little while, he regained control. The darkness fell back, and Henry reached over to his lamp, on the left side of his bed. But when his hand was stretched, his left one, a burning pain erupted at his wrist. Hissing in pain, he pulled the hand back, his right hand clamping onto the burning wrist, hoping to find the warm slickness of blood, hoping to find a cut or something stuck in his skin. But nothing was there. A sick fear started to fester in him, one that had to be allayed. He reached out again towards the lamp. Switching it on, he looked at his left wrist, expecting, praying, to find normal, smooth skin. But there wasn’t. Fear gripped him tight, the darkness rushing in again despite the light, to encircle the new tattoo of a skull and crossed scythes that was now on his left wrist. From the shadows that the meager light of the lamp couldn’t dispel, laughter like a burbling brook echoed through his room.

 

 

And now, Henry Starling, you are mine.

 

For some reason, Henry couldn’t go to sleep after that, till dawn shined its lights on the world.