Lillian

 And on Tuesday night the bad dreams came again. Dreams of darkness echoing back to days of primal fear and hate. And in these dreams the imagery so violent and sharp, pricking diabolically at the strings of one's heart. It was at night Andy was prone to such terrors of imagination and beyond; once his body was in the deepest of rest. Tuesday was no different. Andy slipped beneath the waves of flannel and fleece and then proceeded to rest serenely in peace.

His breath fell soft and moist against the harsh dryness of the bedroom. Andy's eyes fluttering softly in a flurry of sweet bliss, his brain slipped into sleep.

It was fields of black, twisting and dripping tulips reaching towards the burning sky in hopeless desperation. Ancient beasts of sinew and flesh stretched their mangled tongues out to meet each other, some ripping out eyelids and lips, while screaming in unsurpassed agony.

These were the thoughts that flooded poor Andy's brain with a force and girth rivaling that of the rampageous waters which shaved the Grand Canyon.

Then it was morning and glowing red light pooled at the horizon and began to reflect against dewy morning leaves and Andy was awake. And he could hear something in the walls.

The abhorrent rat-tat-tat against the ho-hum-drum of the 7:00 AM Wednesday streets pulled him to his senses. He lay in bed momentarily and tried to forget his dreams by focusing on what they were and what they may have been colluding in there.

The squeaking chitter-chatter faded into the background as the dark thoughts forced their way back into Andy's thought flow. With these thoughts in mind, Andy leaped from his bed as though the speckled asbestos ceiling had just rained turpentine on his blanket cocoon.
Andy got ready for work and was out of the door at 7:35 AM.

This week the temp agency was sending him to the private home of the Baroness Ivanchik and her paraplegic daughter. Andy learned upon his arrival that the girl's name was Lillian and that not only had she no arms or legs, but she had been left dumb and deaf after a hideous disease had ravaged her crippled body.

The Ivanchik's anachronistic estate had been built by the standards of the Parthenon, in all of its intimidating architectural glory. Antediluvian marble posts traveled upwards toward towering unseen heights . The entry way was tiled in white with a magnificent Aviary to the right and a bleak locked chamber to the left. Andy had little time to pay notice for he was ushered through the house at nearly a jogging pace.

The man doing the ushering was a tall and looming figure to behold. His name was Binchup, or something along those lines. He wore all black and failed to blink. Soon enough Andy found himself in the house's grand dining hall where the Baroness herself sat in wait.

“My daughter is in need of professional care..”

The Baroness clasped a cigarette holder in her left hand, occasionally drawing it to her crimson lips for a puff. Andy was unable to place her age, if he had to have guessed he would have said no more than forty-years-old.

“Ma'am I do whatever the agency needs me to do. May I meet your daughter?” Andy attempted to sound sincere.

“She's girl with very bad luck, such tragedy. She is my step daughter, I cannot care for her.” The Baroness spat out in cold broken English.

“Like I said Ma'am, I work for the agency and-”

“You will be watched at all times you are in this house, you understand?” Her English had improved slightly with the last statement. Andy hoped her statement was meant to aggrandize the actual situation and thus didn't take much offense.

“Yes Ma'am.”

* * *

Immediately following their conversation Andy was sent upstairs to the chambers he would be able to call his own over the next few weeks. That night he dreamed of unimaginable horrors so great that upon awakening in his dim and frightening room he felt actual relief. He had the vague memories of millions of limbs ripping from bludgeoned torsos in the darkest pits of the abhorrent landscape crafted by the weaves of his dreams. When Binchup rattled the door chamber just moments later Andy jumped to his feet. He heard the scuffling of the mummified butler waddling down the hall. His job had been only to awake the sleeping guest and somehow he had known his task had been completed.

Andy searched for his dressing robe amidst the darkness around him. He found a lamp and flicked the switch on to reveal his robe lying on the chest at the end of the bed. The chest itself was locked and had clearly been so for sometime. Dust caked and clung to the sides of the wooden crate of near epic proportions. The chest was almost alarmingly tall as it nearly towered over the foot of the bed. It was almost the size of a cabinet and was actually more of a portable closet than a chest. The metal lock called to Andy almost begging to be opened. He had no key, so for the moment the chest would remain locked.

After robing himself, Andy sauntered from his quarters back to the dining hall. He tried jiggling the handles of several of the doors he passed on his way, all of which had been locked. Binchup watched silently with heavily focused eyes as Andy took a seat at the table. The Baroness entered and behind her, pushed by a frail woman in white, was Lillian.

Lillian's untamed black hair fell freely down her shoulders covering the stubs that formed below. Her legless body sat upon an old style wheel chair, one that had to be manually pushed by a care giver. Her skin was a sickly pale and her eyes were glossy and unfocused. Her pupils had been clouded over by a gray mist that lingered there day in and day out, though apparently she had limited vision through both eyes. Her lips were cracked and hung slightly ajar. Though he felt badly about it, Andy's first thoughts compared the girl to a scarecrow of some sort. Andy almost could not bare to look at the pitiful and wretched beast. He fought his fears and looked the girl directly in the eyes. Then standing, he greeted her.

“Miss, my name is Andy-”

“She can't hear you!” The Baroness screeched impatiently. Andy stood still.

“How should I communicate with her?” Andy attempted to ignore the rudeness of her outburst.

“You will not need to communicate, you will feed and watch over her. You will call the nurse to bathe her. You will give her her medicines.” The Baroness handed Andy a spiral notebook, the kind splattered by white noise and which school children used to carry a long, long time ago.

Andy took the notebook and placed it in front of him on the table.

“All instructions are in notebook, if you need things ask Binchup.” Slipping back into an Armenian accent, or something of the like, the Baroness promptly finished her sentence and left the dinning hall not to be seen again for quite some time.

The woman in white pushed Lillian to the side of the table across from Andy and then excused herself. Binchup followed after her, leaving Andy alone with the girl. Andy remembered the Baroness' warning that he would always be watched, however, and kept it in mind.

“I know you cannot hear me, but I am Andy and I'm going to help take care of you.”

Lillian's head lolled to the side and her eyes rolled back into the pit of her skull. Her stringy hair partially concealed her face making the vision of her more menacing than it might have been otherwise. Her lips parted further and her tongue rolled slightly from her left cheek.

Andy looked to the notebook and then rose from the table and pushed Lillian into the hall.

The day carried on, Andy referencing the notebook repeatedly for instruction. He watched Lillian sit in front of the window for about forty minutes as the notebook instructed him to do. He then rolled her into the library where a projector played a variety of old silent films for her. The first of which was Nosferatu. Andy found it an inappropriate choice for a young girl in that condition, but did not question the Baroness for fears of what might happen if he did.

Later the nurse came and wheeled Lillian away for her bath and Andy had an hour to himself. He looked through the notebook again, double checking that he had done the proper job. Everything had seemed to be going to plan, so he decided to take his break in his sleeping chambers. The bad dreams had kept Andy from sleeping a full night's rest and felt he could catch a twenty minute catnap to reboot his system.

His slumber soon dropped him into a heavy sleep, however and his dreams began to take over. The fields of black twisted and called to him rustling feelings of nausea and disgust to his lips. The same beasts came and went, killed and died, and cried out in torment. Then he saw Lillian. She stood, on a pair of legs, in the midst of the carnage and chaos. She waggled a finger, from a hand attached to an arm, playfully in his direction. In fact, she had both arms and she began waving both hands excitedly. Her hair was still black but their was a certain shine to it that did not exist outside of this realm. Her whole being had this ambrosial shine to it, a welcoming and intriguing light that called Andy in her direction.

“Andy! I'm so happy to have you here with me. I've been looking for a friend.” Big brown eyes batted behind long flirtatious lashes. Her smile was so wide, she almost reminded Andy of the Cheshire Cat.

“Lillian-” Andy cut himself off, as he remembered it was only a dream and to question a dream within a dream was always a waste of time.

“Andy, you're going to save me aren't you? Look at my legs!” Then she began to run. The fields turned from black to gold and a mild wind rustled through the dreamscape.

The land was still terrifying, but Lillian navigated through it as though she hadn't a care at hand.

Andy watched in a trance until he awoke once again.

* * *

Andy delighted in seeing Lillian the following morning in the dining hall. The woman in white wheeled her to the spot adjacent from him at the grand table. A red sea of velvet, scattered with islands of gold dinnerware, separated the two of them. Andy stared deeply into Lillian's misty eyes hoping for a nod of recognition behind their glassy lenses.

Nothing.

Lillian's eyes bobbled about and eventually quivered toward her left side. The stringy black hair, once perhaps shiny ringlets, covered most of her face.

“Lillian, can you hear me?” Andy scouted the room to be sure no one was listening. The woman in white had already bade adieu and Binchup was no where to be found.

A slight gurgle slipped from Lillian's loosely parted lips. Her eyes then regained some focus and she directed her attention toward Andy. She gurgled again, straining slightly as if trying to move mountains with an ice pick. It was no use, her eyes lolled back into her skull and she was silent once again.

Andy wheeled Lillian into the library and thus carried on with the notebook's daily routine.

As Lillian watched her silent films, Andy had a moment to look around the library. Rows of old books like crows on telephone wires stared blankly back at him. They gave him a somewhat uneasy feeling, perhaps it was the levels of dust they had accumulated. Andy wandered from Lillian's side to examine the shelves of unread books.

Andy could not read the text on many of the tomes, either dust or dirt had made layers so thick as to make unnecessary most house paint warranties. As he lifted a paw to peel away the time laden layers he noticed something on his left wrist.

Three tiny black crosses ran horizontally across his vein. Three blackened dead eyes, closed and numb had gone unnoticed by Andy for who knew how long. They were stitches, yet he felt no pain. Had he hurt himself?

From time to time the nightmares would take their toll on Andy's body and soul, he could have night walked and injured himself. Would he have had the clarity of mind and hand to mend himself though? Andy felt his heart quicken and halt. Waves of white hot lava coursed through his veins, the little black eyes pulsed in unison.

Andy was stirred from his panic by a bought of loud noises behind him. Lillian had begun to thrash in her seat, wild black hair waving ferociously, lapping against her limbless body with the fever of waves against shoreline in the throws of a passionate tsunami.

He was unsure as to what had caused her plight, but he rushed to her side in an attempt to calm her. Her glossy white eyes blinked and focused on his frightened features as if to say, “Well now I have your attention.” and then she was calm once more. The silent film played onward. The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari.

Then the woman in white appeared in the arched doorway. As silent as the film on the small silver screen she strolled to Lillian's seat. Andy watched as the woman then spun the wheels of the chair out of the door from which she came.

Andy touched the threaded crosses on his wrist with his other hand. His blood felt calmly at ease as it coursed through the veins beneath the surface. The black crossed eyes blinked with his heart beat. Andy felt a soothing trance inexplicably wash over his dampened spirit.

* * *

That night Andy's dreams were filled with imagery of Lillian running freely throughout the fields of blackened wilting tulips. As she ran, all of the colors of the rainbow followed with her, turning shriveled black petals into waterfalls of rich reds and maroons, breathing life amongst the decay that surrounded them. Andy was present too. He watched Lillian as she skipped and hopped on legs made of flesh and bone and covered by rosy liquid ballerina leggings and powered by fairy dust, sugar and spice and everything nice.

Holding hands, the two frolicked past beasts of burden, the same black hideous monstrosities that haunted Andy's night's past. Though the horrific creatures were still mangled and hideous beyond the horrors and monstrosities of Dante and Lovecraft, they too seemed at ease. With Lillian by his side, Andy's dreamscape became a wonderful world of hope and purposeful frivolity; where anything was possible and the spirit was free to conform or deviate as it saw fit.

Eventually Andy awoke in a sea of warmth and purpose. His toes tingled in the same fashion as a boy's would at 6:00 AM Christmas morning. As he rose from the sea of sheets he noticed two small marks on the crisp white linen beneath. Two red stains lay below him, carrying on about their business as though they hadn't a clue that Andy even existed. Was it blood? His blood? A feeling of light-headedness swept Andy's concerns under the rug and the calm he felt beneath the waters of his tired soul washed the remaining worries from his mind. He knew a logical response would have been to determine if he had been injured or not, but something quite powerful inside him told him such concerns were of no value.

After setting up Lillian in the library with her films, Andy decided to explore the compound. He knew Lillian wouldn't be going anywhere and he thought he would be able to slip away unnoticed. He did not linger far from the library for fear of being caught, but wandered through the halls outside of the small theater.

Large oil paintings on pristine canvas glared at him solemnly from expensive wooden frames.

“You will be watched at all times you are in this house..” though Andy had not seen the Baroness since his first evening in the house, her words rang through his ears as he passed mural after mural of judging family portrait.

The overwhelming light-headedness Andy had experienced excessively since first arriving at the estate returned and he fell to his knees in an attempt to keep from passing out. His eyes clenched tightly, the gears of his mind throttling back and forth in contractions of extreme temporal pain and sweet euphoria.

Lillian appeared before him, translucent as an apparition but so full of life as to ensure that she was no delusion. She lowered her perfect porcelain hands to grasp Andy's own time weathered mitts and pulled him to his feet.

“Andy, this place is not good for you. Can you see it is draining your energy? Take me with you, I need to be free. Look at these wonderful legs! How I have longed for you to come and take me away.” Lillian let out a girlish laugh which carried near ghoulish undertones.

Andy felt a mix of relief and fear bubble from the cockles of his gut, if such an organ had cockles to begin with.

“How? How can I take you away?” Andy now was unsure where reality stopped and his dreams began.

“You must release me from this prison, this body, this mortuary. Suffocate the breath from this diseased tomb I find myself imprisoned in and we can roam these wonderful dream fields for all eternity. I promise.” Lillian smiled a devilish grin which stretched across her face the way spilled milk travels across tiled floors. Her smile spat in several directions, twisting her face into a mural of twisted and enraptured humanity.

Then she was gone. Andy was alone in the long windowless hall.

Andy's wrist had begun to bleed. A red pool formed on the floor beneath his brow. As he stood he clasped his wrist tightly hoping the pressure would cease the leaking of his life force. He felt no pain, in fact he felt immeasurable strength and ease.

He eased himself back into the library to see Lillian still perched in front of the movie screen. Her eyes darted wildly about until settling, focused on Andy's own eyes. Was that hope he saw in those cloudy orbs?

“Lillian, do I dream or can I actually save you?”

Her eyelids flapped with a surge of unprecedented excitement.

* * *

When Andy returned to his room that night he noticed something peculiar. Under the great chest at the end of his bed was a splattering of powdered earth. Sweeping his hand through the dirt he pulled his smudged fingers to his face. Examining his hand closely, an unmistakable smell of coldness and death, and fleeting thoughts of suffocation from the grave, overtook him. The chest's lock remained intact, apparently untouched, but something had been dragged from within its confines.

Strange chills coursed through Andy's bones, the little black eyes on his wrists pounded with the rise and fall of his heart. He had stopped bleeding.

The dirt, speckled across his chamber floor, formed a faint path out into the hallway. Though hard to follow, Andy traced the small specs of earth to the dining hall. Lillian's wheelchair sat abandoned at the table. She had to have been with the woman in white; perhaps at that hour the nurse was tending to her.

Seemingly alone in the great manor Andy decided to investigate further. He paced the twisting windowless halls to the main foyer, where he had first entered so many days ago. Upon this visit he noticed something peculiar. The grand Aviary with all of its golden ornithological gates and weeping palms, along with a large variety of other strange plants, was unusually quiet. No sharp chirps or songs from clipped winged slaves encamped against their will arose from the brilliant confines of the great Aviary. It was silent as the grave. The doors were locked, however, and Andy had no way of investigating further.

Across from the solemnly still Aviary was the dark chamber that Andy had noticed upon his original entry into the estate. Small patches of earth had crept from under the door and spilled onto the great entry way. The door was no longer locked and rested slightly ajar. The entrance was grinning as if begging Andy to come hither. The black crosses on Andy's pale wrist danced with the beat of his heart, thumping in unison, singing songs from their homeland. Andy was powerless to ignore them and stepped forward into the chamber.

A massive entanglement of webbing formed a labyrinth of waxy white shadows descending into darkness. Though it was difficult for Andy to navigate through the musty chamber, he forced his way onwards, pushing web and dust aside. He could tell that he was descending, into what he was not certain, but the foul odor of mildew and musk pulled and clung to his nostrils. The forest of webbing grew so thick that without a machete, Andy had reached his destination. The chamber's deep oceanic darkness and disparity ripped and permeated Andy's eyes, yet somehow they adjusted to the lack of light and silhouettes of large blackened shapes caught amidst the webbing and the duskiness assaulted Andy's eyes. As he approached the hanging abominations he could tell that they were utterly inhuman yet roughly the size of men. Thick scale-like wings crossed their chests as though they were taking their last plunges from the plank. Hollow black eyes caught in the thick webbing starred blankly back at Andy, just as the stitches upon his wrist began throbbing harder.

In the darkness he found himself miraculously gaining clearer and brighter vision. It was as if he was a night cat, stalking amidst the chaos of the chamber. The crossed wings upon each creature's chest receded into human hands with talons the length of the nails which had crucified their likely enemy. Andy's eyes had completely adjusted, it was as if daylight had spread through the musty dankness. He could see the same black stitches upon each of the creatures' wrists. The black eyes on his own pulsed harder. The same grave patches of earth were scattered below Andy's feet. Something had been here quite recently. Andy's peculiar sense of calm finally began to give way to a fear more intense than anything he had experienced in the realm of his usual nightly terrors. He turned away from the dangling corpses. He turned and he ran.

* * *

Th front entryway was locked. Of course it would be. As he darted frantically in search of another exit he felt a trembling from the ground beneath his feet. His wrists began to pulse, the little black eyes expanded. Throbbing pain pulsed upwards into his frail arms. He had not realized how pail and week he had become since his arrival at the manor. His veins protruded from his flesh and spiraled outwards, bringing with them the stretched flesh of his forearms. Black scales began to grow where the stitches rested on his wrists and then spread upwards. His fingers twisted and writhed, curling inwards as the bones broke and then extended. His tortured arms were growing into black wings.

As Andy fought to wake himself, hoping he was trapped in one of his ghastly nightmares, a figure emerged from the chamber behind him. A creature more terrifying than anything he had seen in his dreams. It extended its own bat-like wings and hovered above him. Storm clouds of black hair moved in around them. The terrible thing wore a white dress over it's limbless body. It was Lillian! Andy frantically dashed back to the doorway, seeking out a weapon.

Lillian's dead eyes had grown black with horrifying intention. Her twisted rosy mouth tore and stretched to proportions greater than the width of her fragile face. Rows of spiny teeth formed along both upper and lower lip. Her great wings smashed violently against each other as she swopped after him.

Smashing a side table with his left arm he ripped the leg from the wooden top with his right. As Lillian's gaping mouth, a cave of dark unimaginable things, dangled above Andy's head, he fell to the floor stabbing Lillian in the chest with his makeshift stake. The creature toppled atop him and sunk two twisted fangs into Andy's wrist.

* * *

“Andy! I knew you'd free me!” Lillian sat crossed legged on top of a red and yellow toadstool. The grass around her was lushly green and speckled with mist. She giggled and then jumped to the ground. Andy looked to the sky and saw only blue. The terrible imagery that had haunted Andy's nights had gone.

Andy climbed the hill to play with Lillian while butterflies began to spin a tightly wrapped web around their little world.