They Told Me to Run

Dreaming. That's what it was. Or, at least, that's what he thought it was. These last months had been increasingly strange; it started with the thoughts. Needing to get up and leave with no destination in mind. Just to get up and run.

Alas, as a young adult, he had responsibilities. He went to work as per usual, driving to work and cleaning the apartment. although more and more he found himself staring off into the distance , mesmerized by what else was out in the world. But, he then remembered that he was chained down to this life until he grew old. And everything was as per usual.

More and more these thoughts kept occurring to him, this wanderlust needing to be quenched. Yet he knew this desperate thirst couldn't be fulfilled. His father had this same feeling, this desire to go far away; he hadn't ever met his father. He hadn't heard anything of him all throughout childhood, and his mother never spoke of him.

Time passed and his desire never diminished. It grew and grew even more, almost to the point to where he couldn't stand it. Now, there were voices that told him to Run, to get away from it. They never specified what "it" exactly was. He tried to find out why this was happening to him, yet his search revealed no results. He decided to visit his mother, and she  was delighted to see him once again. Though as he entered her house, she knew something was wrong. Concerned for her son, she asked him about it. It was evident that this was bothering him; his hair was a mess and his eyes were red and bloodshot. The voices had been keeping him up at night, adrenaline pulsing through him every time he thought of the idea of running away.

He told her about the thoughts of leaving, the voices keeping him awake and giving him nightmares, the desire to go anywhere but here. He told her about how it shouldn't be this severe and that it was normal to want to travel, but this was having it's toll on him. Not only mentally, but physically. He had lost weight over the months, and he was the type of person with a semi-muscular build.

His mother looked at her only son with sorrowful eyes; she had seen this all before with his father. He ended up losing his mind, and then he just simply vanished one day. There was no trail left behind, no notice, or any sort of letter.

Memories returned to the frail woman; memories of a happier time. A time where she was madly in love with the man of her dreams, a time where they danced in the rain and then kissed under the moon. She sighed in sorrow and beckoned her son to her.

"Go into the attic, and look into the chest by the window. I'm sorry."

A bracelet with a key attached to it was placed in his palm before his mother went and locked herself in her room. he was puzzled at first, the words "I'm sorry," still fresh in his mind. For what, he pondered; this drove his curiosity further. A yawn escaped his mouth as he realized he hadn't slept in... days.  How was he still awake? There was no way he could still be awake. Coffee came to mind and he set to his task. Fifteen minutes later, he was sipping on a hot mug. The bracelet jingled in his pocket, the crisp sound of metal clashing together. Reaching for the delicate object, he pulled it out and inspected it closely. It was rusted, with multiple little keychains connected to it. Tiny little animals were attached to the bracelet with the names of countries on them; ranging from Brazil to Canada to Iraq. Then, amidst all of this, was a luminous key. It was an older key; you could tell that much just by looking at the design of the key. Small dents were scattered across the entire key, showing that it was well-used and very old.  Both items in hand, he left the kitchen area and walked into the hallway. A gust of air brushed across his neck, giving him the chills. It wasn't normal because the window was closed and there wasn't any other way for air to enter the building. Pulling his sweater in an effort to warm himself up, he continued down the hallway. and then he just stopped. There was no need for cold air; something wasn't right. Something was out of place and did not belong at all. His heartbeat started beating in his head, as blood rushed through his system.

"Mom?"

"Dad?"

"Dad? Are you there?"

Panic washed over him, as he prepared for the worst. The visions kept getting worse and worse within the coming weeks.

"Hello?"

He inhaled sharply; he stopped breathing as he felt this non-tangible force wash through him and drip down his body. His eyes widened and darted around the room. It was dark out now, the sun setting mere minutes ago. Cool night air brushed against him, but that wasn't what was bothering him. It was the sound of the lightbulbs exploding, one by one, each one drawing closer and closer. The last one was right beside him, an antique lamp that his mother cherished.  There was a tense moment in the air as he waited for the light to die... but it only flickered for a while. Something brushed past his legs, moving through the space freely and openly. He caught a glimpse of it as it retreated back to he shadows once more.

Paranoia and anxiety conquering any rational thought, he stood there, motionless. The lamp continued to flicker, but it kept speeding up more and more. Faster, faster, faster it flickered until finally it exploded.

"Dad? Mom, where did Daddy go?"

A very familiar voice responded gently,

"Daddy went away for a while, sweetie."

The child, blissfully unaware, simply said "Okay" and went back to playing with his cars.

The dark cloaked everything, nothing to be seen through the veil placed overtop of him. Every word spoken by the voices drove him further with his anxiety. Then the whispers started. They spoke of a world away from home, the time of paradise lost and it's return, and too much to comprehend. So  much information to process overwhelmed him, and he collapsed on the floor. The torrent of whispers didn't stop. They only grew louder and louder until they were yelling.

He begged them to stop, yet they would not stop their assault. Enduring too much, the man screamed and, slowly, lost grip on reality.

Vision became blurry and he couldn't stay conscious. The voices softened, now more of a gentle whisper... soft, gentle melodies began, lullabies of woe and sadness. All the while, the man on the floor continued to weep as he gently fell away from the world, and into the gentle embrace of Dreaming.

Princess Luna awoke with a start. She had heard of this before; the whispers and the voices. Yet, she couldn't find who it was connected to. She returned to the dream state with a simple spell, and saw the long fibres stretch on for as far as she could see. It was only then she realized that the connection was being received in another universe. This bore multiple alarms for the Princess; this had only happened one other time before. Preparing for the worst, the touched the cord and was overwhelmed by the amount of things she had seen and heard. But it was clear this was no minor issue. The last time something like this happened was years ago, and it... was very, very bad.

One could say Earth-shattering.

Luna had to warn Celestia, but she had to know everything about "It". She reconnected to the stream, and was flooded with pictures and memories of it's life. One thought  was separated from everything else, though. It was a photo of another being like it, except taller and more masculine; it was holding a bundle of blankets and smiling down tenderly upon it.  The being in the photo was very, very familiar to Luna. She was struck with disbelief, horror, and sadness all at the same time... how could this happen again?

"Oh dear Faust, have mercy upon us all...."