Chapter 5: Living Nightmare

“Are you feeling well, Brother?� the nun asked. Duncan lifted his head and met her gaze. Her eyes reflected deep concern for the troubled monk.

“No, Sister,� he said in a raspy voice. She stayed for a moment, looking down with mixed pity and worry. Duncan resumed his position, sitting on the side of his bed with his head in his hands.

After a moment of waiting, the nun sat her tray down beside Duncan. “Please, Brother, try to eat,� she said consolingly, and turned to leave the room. The door closed softly behind her. Duncan glanced over at the tray. A small loaf of bread, an apple, a pitcher of water, and several other food-stuffs lay carefully placed on the wooden board.

Normally such a meal would be a feast for the monk. His mouth would water at the mere thought of such a meal. Duncan noted the special care and attention that had been put into the food. They must really be concerned for me, he thought to himself.

He sighed and buried his face once more. There were no tears left in him, but he felt he would weep nonetheless. They have bigger worries, he considered despairingly.

It had been several days since his private conversation with Marcus. The two had returned to the monastery drenched to the bone. It was the only time in Duncan’s life that he could remember not caring about the rain.

The memory of his return was somewhat of a blur. He had walked to his room without a word to any of the monks. They had greeted him and talked to him, but Duncan had given no response. It took only a few hours for the entire monastery to be concerned over his well-being.

Duncan remembered lying there, in the same bed, for more than a day. He stared up at the ceiling. It occurred to him that he hadn’t been lost in thought. Indeed, he hadn’t thought anything at all. Monks and nuns alike came into his room and tried to rouse him from his condition, to no avail.

After that he had dreamt. Awful dreams came flooding into his emptied mind; images of demons and devils haunted him to no end. He saw his death many times. When he awoke the next morning, he found that he couldn’t stop crying.

And he prayed. Oh, he prayed. After the first day, he prayed from dawn until dusk, and well into the night. What he prayed for often made little sense to even Duncan. He still found it difficult to speak to anyone. The monastery surely must’ve thought he’d gone mad.

Marcus, of course, hadn’t come to see him. Duncan considered for a moment. Perhaps he’s left, he thought. It seemed unlikely. No, that would be too simple.

He had been lying in bed on the second day when one of the Sisters told him about the funeral. The congregation was meeting the whole day to bury young Sister Sarah. Duncan wanted to be there. He wanted to see the young nun finally laid to rest. All he could bring himself to do, though, was nod. Like the day before, he failed to leave his room.

Duncan counted. It had been at least three days now, three or four, that he’d been like this. Ever since my conversation with Marcus, he thought bitterly. Never had he regretted his curiosity like he did now. “Now you know the truth…â€? came the stranger’s words echoing back on him.

Duncan looked back over at the food laying beside him. The loaf was still steaming slightly. “Demon or no demon,� he said aloud, “this ends now.� Shakily, he reached for the bread. It was warm and soft in his hand. He raised it to his mouth, closed his eyes, and bit down.

“God be praised,� the old monk exclaimed. Duncan looked over his shoulder as he knelt by the fresh grave. The day seemed sunnier than he had expected.

“Greetings, Brother,� he said, clearing his throat. He was still somewhat raspy. “What brings you out to such a dismal place?�

“Why, you of course,� the monk said as he walked up beside Duncan. He looked down at the gravestone and bowed his head solemnly. “We were all worried about you, Brother,� he said, placing his hand on Duncan’s shoulder.

Duncan couldn’t take his eyes off the grave. He envisioned the young nun tending to the wounded Marcus. It was as if she were still alive somehow, dipping her cloth into the water and staying the stranger’s fever.

“No one knows what happened,� the monk continued. “You disappeared for some time five days ago and when you came back you were deeply troubled.�

So it was five, then, Duncan thought. He wasn’t surprised. His memory was still a blur. He looked up at the aged monk. The two exchanged a long conversation without words. The monk looked down at Duncan, asking wordlessly what had happened. Duncan could only reveal his distress.

At length, Duncan chose to break the silence. “Have you ever had a revelation, Brother?� Duncan asked, looking back at the gravestone.

“I suppose all of us have at one time or another. What did God tell you, Brother?� the monk asked soberly.

Duncan chuckled under his breath. God didn’t say a word, he thought. “The nature of evil,� he said, almost nonchalantly. He placed a hand on the dirt, still loose from the funeral. “I have learned the nature of evil,� he trailed off.

“That is a subject of grim import, Brother. What brought you to such dark contemplation?â€? he asked. “Was it… the stranger?â€?

Duncan scraped the dirt with his fingernails, lifting it in his hand and letting it fall back to the grave. “Yes,� he admitted after several moments. It didn’t seem to matter anymore.

“The congregation thought as much,� he stated. “He rarely speaks to anyone else, except to inquire about you these past few days. A very unsettled fellow,� the monk continued, a concerned tone in his voice.

Duncan rose and looked at the monk with an inquisitive expression. “He’s still here, then?�

“Yes, he is at that,� the monk said with a huff. “He hasn’t made a move to do so since he’s been here. Of course,� the monk added in a lower tone, “I wouldn’t send any man out into such peril.� He nodded toward the nun’s grave.

Duncan’s eyes fell in momentary consideration. “Thank you, Brother,� he said, and headed toward the monastery.

“I think it best that you don’t speak with him,� the monk said as Duncan walked past. For a man so disturbed, Duncan’s stride suggested new resolve.

Without replying, Duncan continued toward the monastery. I have some of the truth, he thought resolutely, but I must know more.

Duncan rapped on the door several times. “Marcus?� he asked loudly. “Marcus, I wish to speak with you.� It was midafternoon. He had spoken with several other members of the congregation, and all had given him the same advice. Stay away from the stranger? he wondered. They’re probably right. Still, I have to know.

Slowly, the door creaked open. Marcus stood inside. He was dressed in almost all of his original attire. His shirt and breeches had been meticulously mended. The stranger looked out at Duncan with a serious look on his face.

“Yes, Duncan?� he asked simply. There was a hint of what Duncan assumed to be fatigue in his voice.

“May I come in? I wish to speak with you,� Duncan said in a mildly urgent tone. He stared at the stranger standing in the door.

“I don’t think that would be wise, Duncan,� said Marcus. “I’m sure you’ve already been warned away from me. I suggest you take the advice of your congregation.�

“No,� Duncan said, walking past Marcus. A perturbed expression played across the stranger’s face. “I won’t accept that. You haven’t told me everything.� He turned toward Marcus, who stood by the open door. He made no move to shut it.

“Do you have any recollection of the past five days?� he asked, obviously irritated. “There’s a good reason why I haven’t told you all you want to know! In fact,� he added, “I shouldn’t have told you anything to begin with. You obviously weren’t ready to know.�

“Don’t give me that, Marcus!� Duncan exclaimed, almost yelling. “I have a right to know the truth.�

Marcus walked toward him and glared. His stare silenced the monk, sending chills up his spine. It was icy and harsh. Duncan felt a lump in his throat. “I suggest,� the stranger said in a low, menacing tone, “that you take your congregation’s advice and leave.�

Duncan tried to stare back, to play Marcus’ game of wills, but he found it difficult to meet the stranger’s steely gaze. “Leave,� Marcus reiterated.

Conceding, the monk walked out of the room. He turned back, standing in the doorway. The stranger was already positioned to close the door. “This isn’t over, Marcus,� he said venomously.

The door shut almost as soon as he was clear of it. Duncan felt a rage building inside of him. The nerve, the arrogance! It would be several hours before he finally calmed down.

Duncan lay in bed, tossing and turning. He mumbled in his sleep. The words were incomprehensible, but it was apparent that he was having another nightmare. His tone, his movements, all suggested the urgency presented by his twilight phantoms. His covers lay on the floor, apparently cast aside. Beads of sweat had formed on his forehead.

Suddenly, he awoke with a start. It had been many nights since Duncan had actually slept well; normal dreams seemed like a distant memory. He was almost used to the horrible nightmares.

He cupped his hands over his face and wiped away the sweat from his forehead. It took several moments for his breathing to settle. He sat up on the edge of the bed and reached for a small candle on his small bedside table. It took several moments of pawing around to locate it in the dark.

Moonlight streamed in through the window, providing some natural illumination. I don’t know what’s worse, he thought, the demons in the night or the ones in my dreams. It was an idle thought to which he gave little consideration.

Just then, a scraping sound emanated through the room. Duncan started, dropping the candle. It clattered on the floor beside the bed. “What was that?� he wondered aloud, though his voice was little more than a whisper.

The sound repeated. It was a high-pitched squeal, like someone dragging a sharp object along a hard surface. Duncan looked around the room. What little he could see suggested nothing. He stood up and glanced around. Where could it be coming from?

He walked around the bed and toward the door. Again, the sound pierced the silence. From his new vantage point, however, Duncan could clearly hear the source. Fearfully, he turned toward his window.

A shadowy form hovered outside, apparently suspended in midair. It’s outstretched hand raked the glass. Two blood-red eyes stared back at him from the night.

Several moments passed, and the creature continued scraping. Duncan knew it could see him. The crimson points of light suggested a mocking expression. It dragged its claw across the glass once more with aching slowness.

Duncan stood frozen on the spot. My dreams have followed me! he thought feverishly. He could feel cold sweat beginning to form on his forehead again. His heart pounded furiously.

Unable to move or even breath, he watched as the creature lifted its hand and extended what could only be its forefinger, gesturing the monk to the window. Whether Duncan would have wanted to approach it or not made little difference; he couldn’t bring himself to budge an inch.

“Come, little monk,� the creature whispered, though its demonic voice cut cleanly through the glass. The words felt like ice in Duncan’s heart. “Come to the window.�

Fearfully, Duncan shook his head. “No,� he managed to rasp. He chest felt tight, making speech difficult at best.

“Please,� the creature whispered, “I wish to talk with you.� Duncan felt as if he would break down in fear. “I wish to talk with you.�

Again Duncan shook his head. His mouth hung open in horror. He tried to turn toward the door, but was still held fast. Not again…, he thought in terror as his first nightmare came rushing back to him.

“Wha… what are you?â€? he asked without realizing it. The words seemed to leap from his mouth without his approval. His mind continued to reel, but he needed to ask.

“Hasn’t he told you already?� the demon said, cocking its head ever so slightly to one side. “Don’t you know?�

“You couldn’t be,â€? Duncan reaffirmed, “Demons don’t exist…â€?

Horrible, mocking laughter cut through the night. Duncan felt any remaining blood drain from his face. Involuntary tears began rolling down his cheeks. “Do you really believe that?� it asked.

Duncan’s knees began to quake and he felt as if he would faint. No, it can’t be, his mind repeated desperately, as if to will the creature away.

The creature chuckled softly, sending new waves of fear through Duncan. “Why don’t you send him out?� it asked. “Just give him to us, and no harm will come to you.�

Duncan’s horrified expression worsened. Send him out? he wondered. The request seemed almost considerable. He swallowed. “What do you want with Marcus?� he asked.

The creature lunged against the window, pressing its shadowy form against the glass and glaring at Duncan. The monk fell backwards, scrambling on all fours back against the door. “Because he belongs with us,� the creature whispered. “Because he is one of us.�

Duncan’s already shocked mind burst in all directions. One of them!?! One of the demons!?! The monk stared out the window at the night. The creature had vanished. Duncan could feel the fear and confusion pulling him down, and the world finally fell away, down into the darkness.