It was about five months ago that the nightmares started. That morning, I was at school, hanging out in the cafeteria before classes started, with my usual group of friends: Cindy, Gina, Tammy and Katherine. The one absent member of the group was Louise. Ten minutes before the bell rang, she came up to our usual table and sat down. The rest of us noticed at once that the normally perky and cheerful girl was unusually subdued and, noting the heavy bags under her eyes, pale cheeks and air of weariness, guessed she hadn’t gotten much sleep last night, probably not for several nights in a row.
“Has Bobby been sleeping over?” Gina teased and the rest of us giggled, but Louise just shook her head.
“No…” She said, yawning. “It’s something else…” She seemed about to say more, but held back. Of course, that only meant we pestered her to tell, until at last, she gave in.
“A long time ago,” She said, slipping into the tone of voice we were all quite used to. No one in our friends group could spin as good a ghost story at a slumber party or around a fire at summer camp then Louise. Eagerly, we all leaned in, eager to hear her tale. “There was once a man named Frederick Arras, who fell madly in love with a young maiden. A sorcerer, he thought to cast a spell that would cause him to appear in her dreams. But the spell went awry. Arras was trapped in the world of nightmares, unable to interact at all in the waking world.”
We listened in rapt attention, as she continued her story, wondering where it was going.
“Eventually, he discovered paths from the Nightmare world to enter the dreams of other people, and found those of his beloved. He decided, if he could only have his love in her dreams, he would have all her dreams. One night, as she slumbered, Arras seized the maiden’s dream form and carried her back to his fortress in the Nightmare Realms. There, he kept her for many years as his slave. Each night, when she fell asleep, she would find herself once more a prisoner in his dungeons, doomed to suffer another night’s torments.”
“What happened then?” Katherine asked.
“One day, while she was awake, the maiden told one of her friends of her dreams and of Arras. That night, she dreamed of him too. As soon as he appeared in her dreams, he seized her too, and imprisoned her in his dungeon as well. Since then, any maiden or girl who hears the tale may dream of him. And if he catches you…”
Just then, the bell rang. I sprang with a start, guiltily relieved to see the other girls jump as well. Something about the way Louise told the story had sent a shiver running down my spine… But I had no time to ponder that, I needed to run off to class and, by the time lunch rolled around, I’d convinced myself it was just Louise making up another of her ghost stories, rather then admit the real reason she’d been up all night. The other girls had come to that conclusion as well and we all teased her about it, over trays of Sloppy Joe’s and mixed veggies. That night though, I had my first nightmare, when he appeared…
Until that night, I had seldom remembered my dreams. Since then, unfortunately, I remember them all with perfect clarity, including that first one. In that dream, I was a rock star, on stage giving a performance before a large crowd. Suddenly, a hush came over them. The crowd parted, revealing a dark figure. He was frighteningly tall and thin, swathed in a hood and cowl, from beneath a pair of red eyes burned. He strode forward, stepping onto the stage in a smooth motion and approached me.
“I am Arras.” He said in a low, almost hissing voice. “I have come for you, Erica Turner.”
I recalled Louise’ story and stepped back, shaking with fright. “No…” I thought, “This isn’t real. It was just a stupid story…”
The hooded figure raised one arm and, from within the voluminous sleeve, half a dozen cords shot out, heading straight for me. I turned to run, but my legs were sluggish, like running knee-deep in mud. I’d barely taken two or three steps before the ropes caught me. One went to my wrists, another to my ankles and a third my knees. Another wrapped around my arms and chest, while the final wrapped itself between my teeth, muffling my scream. The ropes lifted me up off the stage and carried me over to Arras. The next thing I knew, we were flying through the air. Landscapes, strange and fantastical, whizzed below us, each minute growing darker and more foreboding.
Soon, I became aware of a shape on the distant horizon. As we neared, it was revealed to be a tower, a fortress of unbelievable dimensions. The mottling of the of the sheer stone face of the structure slowly resolved into balconies, crenelations and everywhere leering and grotesque gargoyles.
Without slowing, we plunged into the tower at tremendous speed. At the last possible second, it seemed, we found an opening: a rusty iron portcullis winching open with a metallic shriek, darkness gaping behind it like it was some stony maw about to swallow me whole.
Then we were inside. I was carried, helpless, down a long, dark corridor, lit here and there by flickering torches, separated by long stretches of inky black darkness. Sometimes, I thought I caught glimpses of cages, shrouded in the darkness, the occupants peering out through the bars, but we passed too quickly for me to notice. At last we came to one such cage, which swung open, automatically. Coming to a stop, I was thrown, bodily, inside, still trussed up and helpless, in the enchanted ropes.
“Now, you are mine, slave!” The figure said, and the door slammed shut. At that moment, I awoke, drenched in sweat, my heart racing. I must have tossed and turned all night, because the sheets had gotten wrapped around my arms and legs, nearly as tightly as the ropes which had bound me in the dream.
As you can imagine, the dream had left me quite shaken, but now it was morning, sunlight streaming in through the windows of my bedroom. It made a stark difference to the dark, scary dungeon of the dream. By the time I’d eaten breakfast and got ready for school, I managed to convince myself that it was nothing but coincidence. Louise’s stupid story had gotten to me and my subconscious mind had done the rest. I resolved to forget all about it, figuring a day of ordinary, boring, classes would put the nightmare behind me. A good, solid night’s rest after would prove there was nothing to it.
That night, though, I had hardly set my head down on the pillow then I found myself back in the dungeon of Arras, locked in the cage from the night before. The ropes with which I’d been bound were gone, as were, much to my embarrassment, all of my clothes. In their place, I now had a heavy set of iron shackles locking my hands behind my back, a similar set of of leg irons around my ankles. Both were connected by a long chain to a heavy slave collar around my neck. A thick leather muzzle covered my mouth, holding in place a rubber prong which pressed in uncomfortably.
After a moment, my eyes adjusted to the gloom, enough I could peer through the bars of my cage and make out other cages. There were dozens of them I could see: some on the ground, stacked two or three high in places. Others floated overhead, whether hung on chained attached to the cavernous, shadowed ceiling or suspended by magic I couldn’t tell. They varied in size, from huge ones big as a bus to tiny boxes, barely large enough to hold a single person, and only if she were curled up in a ball. Save a handful of empty cages, nearly all of them held one or more captives. All of the prisoners I could see were young women or girls and, like me, they were totally naked, save collars, gags and restraints.
As I glanced by the sea of strange, scared faces, expressions twisted by the variety of muzzles and gags we were all forced to wear, I did a sudden double take. There, curled up in one of the smaller cages, hanging overhead, was a girl who seemed familiar. When the cage’s slow spin turned her face towards me, I was shocked to recognized the scared, sobbing face, half hidden behind a jaw-crushing ballgag and harness. It was Tammy! My classmate seemed to recognize me as well. We tried to call out to each other, but our gags made it impossible, reducing whatever we said to hopeless grunts and moans.
Before I had more then a moment to consider this, a crowd of figures swarmed into the dungeon. I gaped, giving a cry of terror. They were small, hunched figures, smaller even then Tammy and me, that appeared to be made of black smoke or shadows given solid form. Their appearance, bat-winged with hideous faces, put me in mind of the stone gargoyles I’d seen decorating the outside of the castle.
Chittering to themselves, the gargoyles went to work, opening cages and dragging their terrified occupants out. Some took to the air on their wings, pulling girls from the hanging cages. I saw Tammy extracted from her cramped confinement. The gargoyle, chittering with cruel delight, dropped the bound, terrified girl, who fell a couple yards before another gargoyle swooped in like a hawk and caught her out of the air. Flapping it’s wings, the gargoyle rose half the distance up again before dropping her again. Eventually, one of them deposited Tammy on the ground, standing her on shaky feet, at the end of a long line of a dozen or so captives. Several gargoyles went down this line, chaining them all together by their collars, then the whole lot were set marching away.
They weren’t taking all of the captives, only about every other cage was opened. I prayed I would be one of those skipped. Little though I was enjoying being cooped up here, I was certain it would be better then wherever Tammy and the other girls were being hauled off to. Alas, soon enough one of the gargoyles approached my cage. As he did, the cage door suddenly swung open. Tough, taloned hands reached in and seized my naked body. I screamed and struggled, but the hideous thing was surprisingly strong and wiry for its size. Helplessly, I was pulled out and dragged to the front of the chamber where another coffle of girls was being assembled. I was placed in line behind a tall girl with long, curly brown hair and a chain locked to my collar, the other end already fixed to the back of hers. A second later, a short redhead was stood behind me and the two of us were likewise joined.
Beside me, a gargoyle pointed with a talon and chittered something in their strange, horrible language. When I was slow to respond, it materialized a short, multi-stranded whip of the same shadowy substance it was made of, and swung for my backside. I couldn’t dodge out of the way for my chains and I yelped at the sudden, stinging pain. The creature repeated the pointing gesture, waving the small flogger threateningly. I got the message: March! Head bowed miserably, I started to trudge forward with the rest of the captives out of the chamber.