Soft falling leaves. Gentle morning sunlight.

These events happened 12 Cycles ago. In other terms, that would be 3 years ago.

The birds were quiet that dawn. The golden sunlight revealed a path amongst the humid grass.

Rising above was a hill that marked the border between the town and the wilderness. Children were taught never to go any further, as monsters could lurk beneath the bushes, hiding after the events of another Downdraught.

Despite the parents’ well-meaning words and solid fears, quite a few stepped through that natural line. Some were cheeky brats searching for trouble. Some were lovers in need of a lonely shadow. And some were unlucky with a different fate.

Every fourth Cycle brought a humid season into Astria. These times were important for folks on the lower end of the social structure, as a certain seasonal mushroom, Pigsprout, could be found out in the forests and be sold for a good price. For some, these tiny shrooms meant the difference between starvation or another year of survival.

Not every family could afford to set that magical line at the hill for their children. Some parents had to swallow their worries and force a smile while they equipped their offspring with wicker baskets.

Go on, dear! They would fake a smile. The one with the most sprouts will be the winner!

Thus, as the gentle breeze followed the warm trail up the hill and a laugh as beautiful as tinkling bells grew towards the end, the tragedy of unlikely events began its motion.

“Hahaha! Stop it, please!”

Tears of laughter blinded her crimson eyes. The breeze picked up the long curls of her white hair and stuck them to the salty teardrops on her face.

Before her dirty brown dress was a boy, positioned horizontally against the ground. His rugged clothes were stained by the mud. Only his rust yellow eyes remained untainted.

He got up again, much like many times before, and dusted off his dirty clothes.

“No can do!” He yelled with frustration. “This is the first time Mom lets me climb past the hill! This is a special occasion! We need to celebrate it, whatever it takes!”

The celebration he was so focused on took the form of a juicy red apple. It was the only one of its kind, having survived the cold kiss of chilly nights.

This red, shining globe hung far above the ground. Its apple tree had only a few branches, all too far above. Yet all these facts meant nothing to the boy, who as a true man felt no stranger to the most masculine of sins: pride.

“I won’t let that apple get the best of me!” He roared as his young hands touched the tree trunk once more. “I will climb up there, even if this shitty tree protests!”

The white-haired girl ceased her laugh. She raised a finger to her mouth, blushing innocently.

“But Chucky… What if your Mom would hear those words?”

Chucky grunted as he hugged his way up the tree. “Hear what? That I said a bad word? She is not here, is she?”

Despite his cherry-red face failing to hide just how hard it was to climb that tree, Chucky still managed to look cool in the girl’s eyes.

“You’re such a bad boy…” She whispered with a red blush.

Chucky climbed his way to that destined branch. Success! The apple was closer than ever before. This realization sent a second wind cursing through his veins as he awkwardly, but resolutely, hugged his way to the sweet fruit.

He reached out, his fingertips grasping the fated red. It swung away from the touch as if willingly resisting the boy. What a stubborn plant!

He pushed again, but something felt off. Suddenly, his grasp around the branch weakened, and in an instant, he was falling towards the ground.

Thump! His body hit the ground like an old rug.

The girl rushed to him. “Are you alright?” She asked with a trembling voice.

Chucky grunted as he lifted his head. He wiped off the wet soil that covered his face, then turned to his friend with a smile.

“Did you see it, Amanda? Did you see how close I was?”

Amanda crouched beside the boy. She quickly checked his head for any wounds, then held up two of her fingers.

“Listen! How many fingers am I holding up?”

“Why can’t you just answer me? Amanda! Did you see how close I was?”

Amanda was hesitant, but after another glance at the boy’s smile, she knew that he was fine. As her fragile lips let out a sigh, a single tear left her right eye.

“Yes.” She smiled. “You almost had it.”

“What happened? I felt something strange and my hands slipped. Did you feel it too?”

What are you talking about? That was what Amanda meant to ask. However, before she could have said such words, that strange feeling returned. This time she could feel it too.

A small, barely noticeable tremor. It was too weak for an earthquake, yet very real to be left ignored.

“Can you feel it too, Amanda?”

She nodded quietly.

Whatever it was, that strange turmoil in the ground was unnatural. When they put their ears to the ground, they could feel it coming from the other side of the hill.

This revelation left Amanda with paranoia. She took a few steps back, right towards the village, and observed her surroundings with shaken eyes.

Her voice trembled.

“T-This must be the work a landfall! No monster is big enough to cause such turmoil… A-Am I right?”

Amanda’s words fell on deaf ears as Chucky’s remained on the ground. Cheeky. Bold. Those are the words that could best describe the smile on his face. Not that he meant to cause any harm, but rather the spirit of youth cursed through his veins as something undoubtedly dangerous, but still curious, was in his sight. Or rather outside of it. Yet.

He pushed himself into a standing stance. His grin reached from ear to ear.

“Come on!” He waved to Amanda. “Let’s check the source of this ruckus!”

“Have you lost your mind? What if it’s a huge monster?”

“Then we’ll just run away!”

“But what if it runs faster than us?”

“Then we’ll just climb a tree! It’s common knowledge monsters are too dumb to climb.”

“But I’m also a bad climber…”

Talking to a brick wall would have borne more fruit, is what she thought as Chucky was too determined to listen to common sense.

“Come on, let’s go!” He exclaimed with excitement and rushed into the forest.

Amanda was given no time to respond. In the blink of an eye, Chucky was already out of her sight. Thus, it was up to her to decide what to do next.

Should she go back into the village and tell on her friend? But that would be rude!

Should she go back and ask her parents for help? That would take way too much time!

There was no going back now. Not without abandoning Chucky in the forest. And who knows? If perhaps a monster truly does exist on the other side of that hill, then who will defend the poor boy?

As much as she despised the idea, Chucky left her without a choice.

“Hey, wait for me!” She shouted, following the boy’s tracks. “Slow down! You know I’m a bad runner!”

– – –

Nightmares.

Defined as corrupted dreams. Thoughts of safety and wellness turned into chaos and turmoil. The deepest fears of our hearts, stampeding over that oh-so-perfect future.

Open up a lexicon. You’ll find many explanations for that word, but they will all lead back to the same idea. Harrowing fears, taken flesh from our imagination.

This lack of differing definitions is understandable. After all, language is a concept that constantly evolves. Some words are still sleeping in the endless void of time, waiting to be brought into existence. Some indefinable thoughts are yet to be defined.

Nightmare is the perfect example of this. Misunderstood. Waiting on the outskirts of time. Soon, a subject to change.

The dreamer of this years-old memory wakes up. She takes a deep, deep breath. Relaxes her muscles. It’s over. She’s safe, for now.

The nightmare is over, she repeats those words. Blind that it still looms over her.

Inescapable. Always there. Haunting every second of her wake, every ounce of her being.

And soon, she will unearth the meaning of this never defined nightmare…