Dreams and Portents

This is basiclly a 'Welcome to Night Vale' Fan Fiction

It started with a dream.  The sky was an iron gray and all around me were towering trees made of perfect darkness, which may cause some of you to think ‘well now we know what’s on his mind’ and you would be wrong.  Sometimes a tree of darkness is just a tree of darkness. Anyway, the thing that was truly disturbing about these trees was that the ground they sprung from was desert sand.  In all directions around for as far as I can see nothing but desert sand and black trees, as I thought of my predicament I thought I saw a flash of movement from the corner of my eye, the kind of movement that one would associate with a fast moving shadow or a nameless terror that not only haunts places but also memories.  My head turned sharply and found nothing at all; it was then that I heard the whispers.  At first I thought it the wind, but the air was still.  The voices seemed human at first and spoke of strange things, mostly in a language unknown to me but I could understand their meaning by tone and inflection.  “Looks like somebody could use a haircut” one of the voices said in a dry and sarcastic tone.  “He could also stand to lose a couple pounds and don’t get me started on that horrible shirt he is wearing” said another and I could almost see it rolling its eyes. The voice continued in this manner for some time and just when I had had enough the sounds began to grow in volume until they turned into an almost a deafening unintelligible roar and then I began to run.  The direction didn’t matter and just had to get away from this terrible noise which seemed to be coming from everywhere yet also nowhere at the same time.  ‘The trees,’ I shouted to myself ‘it’s coming from the trees!’ and as if I had uttered some terrible incantation all the trees began to move, well not actual move but melt.   They all melted down into inky black puddles that were pulsing and bubbling and connecting and growing.  I commanded my legs to move faster and faster, but I knew I was at my limit as the black Forrest melted and reformed into shapes for which there are no words to describe, at least no words that a rational mind would be able to find or understand.   The roaring of the blackness was also changing, changing into sounds that I could almost make out as words and that it was also developing into a rhythm or chant.   But I couldn’t hear what it was saying as I continued to run, no it was impossible to make out over the pounding of my heart, the burning of my lungs, and the terror of my own screams.  Just then before me I saw a light appear in the distance, a way out, I pushed myself forward in a mad scramble, and then I fell.  I fell hard to the ground; I liked back over my shoulder and gasped in horror at what I saw.  It was a claw like arm made entirely of dripping black ichor that had grabbed me by the leg, causing me to fall.  My eyes traced down to find its source and saw that it was sticking out from one of the nearby pools of former trees.  I thrashed my body and kicked at the thing holding me with my free leg, but it wouldn’t let go.  Despite its semi-solid state it possessed incredible strength like some kind of herculean pudding.  I continued my thrashing and could feel it begin to pull me and I knew that this was the end as soon as I felt another hand griping my other leg.  I closed my eyes and clawed at the sand, I screamed for help, I begged for it as I could feel the lower half of my body enter the black pool, And then nothing.  Nothing but the sensation of warmth returning to my legs and I could tell that I was free, unencumbered by darkness and that I was now sitting in the warm sands.  I opened my eyes and saw that the skies were clear blue and that the desert around me was wide and open without a trace of the horrible black goo that had once been whispering rude trees. I got to my feet, turned around and saw that there was a man standing behind me, he was tall and had long black hair that spilled out from beneath an elaborate, if not cartoonish, head dress.  The odd thing about  this man, who was shirtless and made up to look like an Indian or something, was that he was white, possibly from eastern Europe and then he began to speak.  He spoke in a clear and commanding voice, his face implacable and stoic, but I could not follow a single thing he was saying because in my head I was thinking “why is this guy dressed like an Indian, and not only that, buy why such an obviously offensive caricature of one?” .   I was so distracted that I only managed to catch the last thing he said, which was something about a dog park and then he was gone.  Seriously the guy just vanished, “That guy was a real jerk” I said out loud to myself.  “You have no idea.”  A male voice chuckled from behind me.  I turned on my heels and saw a strange robed figure, his face obscured by a hood.  Seemingly knowing already the question I was about to ask, he raised his hand and spoke “But seriously,” the hand continued up and as he pull back the hood reveling a bare bleached skull, “STAY AWAY FROM THE DOG PARK!”

            I awoke with a start, face soaked with sweat and tears, and it took me a moment to collect myself.  I pulled the lever, brought the seat to its upright position and wiped my face dry with my shirt sleeve.  Outside the truck’s side window the scenery moved quickly, the hard desert and brush and cacti flew past.  “That must have been some dream you had there, friend.”  The driver said in a measured, but bemused tone, he must have been in his early thirties or late twenties and had strong good looks, his hair was styled in that messy but on purpose way and had a short almost just stubble beard.  “Yeah, it was a wild one.”  I replied slowly, my mind still partially asleep “Thanks again for the ride by the way, what did you say your name was?”  He shot me a sly smile and said “It was no problem at all, I am just glad I was heading the same way you were, and its Carlos.”  He extended over a hand and I reached out as well, his grip was firm but also gentle. I chuckled softly to myself and leaned slightly back in the chair, “Well Carlos, mind if I turn on the radio?  I hear that the next town has a pretty interesting radio station.”  I asked with a grin.  “Sure no problem” he replied.   I reached over to turn the dial and thought to myself ‘it was just a dream, that’s all it was.  Things will be better here, I will have a fresh start.’  And as I turned that dial I saw a sign quickly approaching in the distance, it was old and worn but the letters clear and bright.

            Welcome to Night Vale.

End