This is part 2 of the fantasy serial “See” by FairlyFiction.
Part 1: https://fantasyroadweb.wordpress.com/2017/07/24/see/
The first thing Godwin realised as he awoke, was that he did not know where he was. He looked down to see a spindly iron lattice which seemed to have served as his bed; the harsh marks from where the grill had pressed into him showed on his bare arms and legs, Godwin didn’t doubt there were more underneath his tunic.
He propped himself up on a sore elbow and looked around. he was in a room. A small, square, grey room. There were four cobbled walls, covered in lichen and a ceiling low enough that it would scrape Godwin’s head if he stood. There was no door. It took a while for him to realise that there were also no candles in the room, a little while longer still for him to realise that, somehow, there was still light. He decided not to dwell on this.
The second thing Godwin realised was that he was not alone. He had known this all along. He looked around the room again- into all four corners- and saw that it was empty. It always had been, Godwin told himself, of course he was alone. The only noise was the drip of water and the creak of the grill he lay on.
“Hello?” The word hung in the air like a stench and Godwin regretted calling it, dreading a reply. He wanted to reach out, grab the word, stuff it back down his stupid mouth.
Silence was the reply. A silence that got louder and louder until it was unbearable to the etent that Godwin wished something would happen. So again he called out and again he regretted it.
He looked over his shoulder. Nothing was there. But just in case he glanced into every corner individually, finding comfort in the repetition.
Godwin lay back down and closed his eyes, the harsh iron teeth of the bed bit into his back. Only now did he consider his situation. He remembered the naked, scarred man who had burst into his hut, attacked him and Godwin assumed it must have been him who had brought him here. He remembered where the man was from. Fear crept over his sweat covered body.
But it wasn’t just fear that crept over his sweat soaked form. Something that had crawled up from under the bed.
Godwin’s breath caught like a dagger in his throat, his limbs froze as if in ice. Something curled around his exposed ankle. He could feel five patterned fingers probe the bottom of his leg, tickle their way across it as the thing attached to it decided what to do next. Godwin told himself it was his imagination; this was the stuff of the tales he told to frighten his children, it would never happen to him. But the hand continued to move, up his leg, past his manhood and up his chest and to his face. His face had felt these hands before. Hands that were rough, caveated, broken, bleeding. They grabbed his cheeks.
“Nothing will be there if I open my eyes”, Godwin thought to himself.
Now something else was on his body. Legs found their way round his waist to grip him like a lover so that Godwin was now utterly in the thing’s grasp.
“When I open my eyes, it’ll be gone.”
A scarred, dripping body now put its full weight onto him. Something- a face?- was moving closer so that Godwin could feel its breath, the peeling of its lips, the creak of its neck. Then a titter from its lips.
“I am dreaming.” Godwin said this last one aloud but his eyes stayed closed.
The next words fell like sick onto Godwin’s face but did not come from his own lips: “Keep dreaming.”