My Dear Shy - Rick's Lament

The day after that first nightmare was exhausting; even when morning arrived I was still wide awake.  Thoughts ran through my mind, thoughts concerning the nightmare and what the interpretation was because I sure as hell didn't know.  Maybe it was a movie I once watched as a toddler?  Perhaps a book from Clive Barker?  Why?  Because some of his books are disturbingly terrific, like Hellraiser.  And I'll confess, he's nominated as my number one author behind Steven Spielberg.  He's even part of the reason why I wanted to become an author.

Well, besides that, having to go to work drained proved to be burdensome, especially trying to keep up with the fellow workers.  Tina, being the considerate member of the bunch, had asked me of my health when she noticed the bags sagging underneath my eyes.  I blatantly replied to her that I stayed up late.  So why did I lie to her and not tell her straight of what really happened?  Even I was flummoxed on the matter.

I return home hours later, more tired than ever, the sky a hue of dark blue as the horizon's edges glimmered orange.  I zombie-walk to the door and fish out the jingling keys from my pocket.  As I flick through key by key, I stop to this black one with miniature skulls all over it.  Some of the paint on the tip and cuts have been scratched off throughout the years of being used.  I insert the key in the knob, twist counter clockwise, and the door opens with a click.  Tucking the keys back into the pocket, I tread forward.  The door fully opened, I glance down at the floor beyond the entrance only to let out a dejected sigh.

I close my eyes and shake my head before moving onward.  I close the door behind, looking at the dark living room.  So desolate...  I always remember coming home to see the entire living room lit up with activity.  The television would be turned on, with either Animal Planet or Cartoon Network showing.  The lamps around each corner would be on to illuminate the colors of the walls and furniture.  But now...  Now it's dark and lifeless, like my heart.  I shake my head again as I carelessly throw the coat into the shadows, making a somber beeline to the bathroom down the hallway.

With a flick of a switch the bathroom's lights shine on.  I rest my hands on the sink, staring deeply into the mirror.  My reflective doppelganger stares right back with depressing eyes.  I can't help but feel sympathetic at my reflection's state.  I reach my hand out and touch the mirror's surface.  My reflection does the same.   Our fingers connect, yet there's only bitter coldness when we made contact.

I retract my hand and breathe an inward sigh.

But something in the mirror's reflection catches my eye-Rapid flashes of colors bounce off the white walls outside the bathroom.  The television must've turned itself on is what my mind speculates.  But I tell myself that it's something else...

Tentatively curious, I exit the bathroom and creep towards the living room stealthily on my toes.  Near the end of the corridor, I hug my back against the wall, sidling up and up until I'm at the corner.  I tilt my head over to get a furtive peek at the living room.  There, sitting on the floor before the flashing monitor, is the silhouette of...

Mystified, I whisper to myself, "My dear Shy...?"

She remains at her position, watching the blurry images on the television monitor.  I opt that maybe the television is experiencing problems, but that's the least of my concerns.  I rip myself from the wall and take cautious steps to the couch behind the coffee table.  Still the pegasus is somehow oblivious to my presence.  I don't know why I'm doing this.  I have to remember that in reality that Fluttershy's gone.  Perhaps this is a dream?  Am I being delusional?  Or am I, dare I add, just that crazy to create an imaginational copy?

Even with these worrisome thoughts, my heart beats with passion that overcomes all these concerns.  I quietly sit on the couch, looking between the pegasus and television.  My mouth opens, despite my brain telling me not to, and I timidly ask, "What'cha watching, hunny?"

"Courage the Cowardly Dog," Fluttershy answers without looking back.

That voice.  How I've dreamt to hear it once again.  My eyes slightly become watery as I hold a hand over my mouth in disbelief.  Is this really happening?  Am I that deranged?  Who gives a crap.  If I am going crazy, I might as well be going happy crazy.

"Wanna join me, Father?" Fluttershy offers.

I swallow up my urge from crying.  "Sure, hunny," I oblige, wiping away a single tear streaking down my cheek.  I hop off the couch and mosey on over to her side.  Before I could sit down, the television's light reveals her face.  My eyes widen in pure horror at her empty sockets where her beautiful eyes used to be, with trails of dried blood stained on her cheeks.

She snaps to me, and I can see shadows writhing in those sockets.  "Come.  Join me," Fluttershy repeats as menacing red pupils glow from within.

"Gah!" I yelp myself awake on my bed, beads of sweat across my forehead.  I immediately jump out of bed and race to the living room.  I lift the switch and the lights brighten the area, with no sign of the pegasus whatsoever.  The television was off, and to that I sigh to myself in relief.  However, I feel something cold and wet on my face so I sweep a finger across to discover tears.

Then the dream occurs to me, and I let out another flow of tears.