The rain stopped but it was still dusk. I guess that’s why they call it Dusk. I finally motivated myself to start walking down the dimly lit streets. Street lamps blast off spurts of light every few feet. “Follow the black mist,” I breathed. All I saw was street after street after street of emptiness. Never have I seen my home so empty. Even on a Sunday afternoon a few wandering cars could be found sauntering down the streets, but not in Dusk.
I haven’t even seen any more looms. They must stay indoors. I wander why they have streets then…
Before that thought could take root I saw it. Thin, very thin at first. I thought it was just part of the night sky, but now it was thicker and more defined. Black fog. Again, I went against my instinct and waded into the fog. It didn’t get much thicker as I could see, and I continued into it still.
Through the mist I saw it, a tiny cottage, ink curling out from it’s creaky rotten wood door. I reached a pale hand to it, touching its water-saturated frame. The Weaver. What will he look like? Like a loom? Or maybe like a nightmare, with dagger-like teeth and blood coated claws! I waved the thought away. One thing I did not feel since I had arrived here was fear. I almost felt at home, actually more than at home. No one seemed like they were here to cause me harm, so I assumed the Weaver’s intentions were the same.
CREEK! With the ginger tap of a pointer finger the door pulled itself open, as if anxious for me, like everything else here, it knew I was here and knew I didn’t belong. I stepped down into the abyss.
The mist concentrated into one corner into a black mass. It seemed as if that was all that was in the room, but as my eyes adjusted I saw the spools of thread. The thread seemed to pulsate with colors; blues, purples, blacks, and reds. It drew me in and I reached out to it like a fly to a light.
“Stop! Who enters my workshop!” a voice boomed. It was then I saw its hands. They resembled long, long needles, the joints made of thread. The blackness moved forward to me, encircling me. I could see nothing, nothing but him.
“Oh, my… what is this?” His blank black face met mine,” And what is a little girl doing in my workshop? Someone lost?”
“I believe so. I’m Claudette Emory, I’ve been told you are the Weaver?”
“Who told you? Or do the humans know more then we thought?”
“No, no a loom told me. He called himself… Firr!”
“You met Firr! One of my favorite looms! He lives in your house if I recall correctly. I’ve not seen much of him of late his duties are piling into mountains…. So anyway, let’s move on to the problem at hand. You are here.”
“I know.”
“I don’t think you comprehend the severity of your situation. If you don’t find your dream, it will be recycled.”
“What do you mean?”
“If your nightmare is recycled then you live here. You must find your nightmare cloth before it is recycled or you’ll never be able to return to your world. You can’t just follow any nightmare home; you must follow the nightmare that brought you here. Lucky for you though, that nightmare might have been one of my finest works. I doubt that any loom will unravel it and return the thread to me soon to be rewoven into a new nightmare.”
His needle hands went click clink ting tink as he began to sew with the thread. It looked like a little costume, fit right for a loom. He looked down at my petrified face. “Well, dear you better get going. That dream won’t be kept forever, and once unwoven, you won’t be getting it back.”
“Aren’t you going to help me?”
“I’m far to busy to help you search the whole world for this nightmare. “
“How long do I have you think?”
“Not quite sure to be truthful. Some nightmares are kept for years, others less than a day, but you should really get started. I know you don’t believe it, but this is no dream. This is a real world, and strange it may seem I and everyone else here is real. Careful my girl, like in your world there are some with you and some against you.”
“Ok. I guess I’ll go.”
“Oh, but don’t feel like I’m throwing you out. If you need a break feel free to stop in. It gets lonely sometimes in my cozy little house.”
I crawled up from the mist and was nearly blinded by the normally dim light of a street lamp. I felt like I was floating, that feeling you get when something seems so unreal, but you know it is. Like when they call your name on the announcements at school, but this feeling was worse, deeper. It was in that instant I considered the insane notion that this was in fact reality. I threw that thought into the corner of my mind hoping it would die. Reality or dream I still had to find my nightmare or this dream will not end, because they never do until you’re about to reach your goal, so it is far to early for its end.
Then another chilling thought crawled into my skull. It was inspired by the Weaver’s words “some with you, some against you.” Because it wasn’t hard enough to find my nightmare I had to deal with people or looms or whatever, that are against me.
Someone was there; I felt it through my damp-blue sweatshirt. Mist swirled round me. Not black though, white. It grinned.
“Firr?”
“Yes, the one and only. I have left my house! How thrilling!”
“What’s so thrilling about walking outside?”
“Most looms fear the hounds, and to be honest I fear them too. But, I wanted to find you! I have decided it would be quite an adventure to assist you in locating your nightmare. If that is acceptable?”
I half smiled. If someone wanted to help me, I wasn’t going to stop, even if they were just a cloud of mist. “Sure I guess… Firr?”
“Present.”
“What are hounds?”
“Nightmares not meant for humans, far to scary. Even the Weaver can make mistakes. They are the dream cloths that take on a mind of their own. They break free from his workshop and run the streets, black as the never coming night. They search for a loom they can use to enter humans dreams. If you remain silent, you can hear them howling.”
I froze as if the statement a challenge. Small noises I once thought the wind now seemed to morph into the howls of these horrifying nightmares. The wind, with its long boney fingers, played with my hair tossing it about blurring my vision.
“Follow me my dearest … my dearest … pardon me, but I don’t believe I caught your name?”
“Claudette.”
“Oh, how lovely! Well follow me my dearest Claudette, I know of a loom that collects and documents many a strong nightmare. He might know where yours is.”

Leaves tumbled round my feet, entangled in each other like puppies wrestling. Howling wind continued to play tricks on my mind and sent images of licorice-black hounds tearing through the night for me, or for Firr. It scared me that I cared about him or her or whatever a loom is. I never recall remembering the characters that accompanied me though my dream travels. So with that the idea of dusk being reality nested in my brain.
“Firr, are we close,” I whispered as if someone were listening to us.
“Yes, very. Quicken your pace. I wish very dearly to be indoors.”
“Firr what is this loom’s name?”
“Cender.”
“Firr?”
“Yes.”
“I know it must be annoying, but I have another question, how does a loom get its name?”
Firr stopped, hovering in the thick soupy air. He was puzzled and didn’t speak for quite sometime. “I must admit, I really don’t know. As long as I can remember I have been called Firr. I think the Weaver named us. There are never “new” looms. We are as we are forever and ever. I believe from my dream cloths I’ve heard a word called “death” used by humans, this idea of an ending and a beginning, doesn’t exist in Dusk.”
I froze at the word. There were things I wanted to say to continue this conversation, but I sealed my lips and my mind at the mention of the word. The very thought made me feel discomfort, I hated topics as such.
I broke into a brisk stride in the direction Firr was headed. Firr, assuming I wished to get in doors as well unthawed and regained his position in front of me with ease.
It wasn’t long before the now cobble stone street dead ended at a house. Old, tall, and shaky. Firr continued undaunted by the familiar sight to the stained, once white door. I now wondered what Firr would do.
Firr pressed his foggy forum to the window of the door. He in haled deep. Then breathed warm air onto the cold window causing the window to fog up. It was all I could do not to draw something in the white tint like a smile or a heart. It appeared that was what they did instead of knocking. “You don’t knock?”
“Knocking disturbs the person, is and is only to be used in emergencies… come to think of it a human being among us is a bit of an emergency.”
Firr gently knocked, not wanting to “disturb” Cender. The door swung open at once unveiling another cloud of mist. He was slightly smaller in size, but much, much brighter than Firr.
He spoke in a softer tone,” Ah, my friend. What brings you to my home? Are you not aware of the hounds? You of all people Firr! Inside! Inside!”
Firr didn’t budge though I knew he desperately wanted to. “Cender, I need your nightmare expertise. Look what I bring.”
“Human!!! My word!!! You are out of place! Very out of place! Inside and hurry!”
Firr and I were herded indoors. Candles cut holes in the dark room. One floated in Cender’s mist lighting our way as we followed him quickly through the house. He halted in a room with a large wood closet the engulfed a whole wall.
Cender’s misty face filled my vision as he spoke,” Now little girl what was your nightmare? Describe it in great detail!”
I winced pushing the images away. It whispered to me calling me to think of it, but in response I shouted,” I don’t remember it!”
Cender appeared disappointed,” Come now! If it was strong enough to take you here, it surely was frightening enough to at least leave some pieces in your little head. Now, don’t try to hard to think of it! If you do the pieces will pack up and leave. Let them come to you.”
There was a silence while they fixed their eyes on me. Firr chirped,” Ah! I have an idea. Why not let her look through your collection of dream clothes and maybe one will remind her of her nightmare! If that doesn’t work will take her to the nightmare records and we shall get to the bottom of where that clothe is!”
Cender bobbed up and down as if nodding in agreement. He pulled open wide the doors to the closet sending black, blue, gold, silver, and purple shimmers into the candle light air. Mounds of pulsating clothing and clothes sat inside its doors. Cender shrugged,” Well, I suppose you may look through these. They are among my favorites; simply press them to your face to see the nightmare. It will feel like going into a pool of water.”
I wasn’t sure if I wanted to, but it didn’t seem as if I was being give much choice. Cender tenderly set down the candle on the floor beside me. “You may take your time,” Cender whispered,” My friend and I have much to talk about.”
I was alone. Alone with my thoughts, which is never a very good thing. Before I truly began to think I pressed a random clothe to me cold face. It was cold. As if it were woven from frost and sewn together by an icicle. The feeling evaporated though when the cloth seemingly to engulf me.
I was no longer in, but part of a nightmare. No! Not part of one, worse I was watching one happen to someone else.
There was a young boy. Probably about ten. Tears streamed out of his blue eyes and down his pale face. He sits in a dark cold room, nothing but a small fuzzy TV provides light. But, it was not the room that was the nightmare; it was what was playing on the TV. A grow up man tossed a smaller boy up and down and played with him in the middle of a emerald green field. I now got the connection. The man was the crying boy’s father and the young boy a younger version of the boy watching the television. The TV shuts off. Now a message appears on the black screen in crisp un-human type. “Will be fixed tomorrow.” It read.
I didn’t understand. The image didn’t seem so bad, but yet… I removed my head from the nightmare confused. I felt the freezing dream cloth on my face and then I sat in the room once more. Firr’s face met mine.
“Nightmares may confuse those who they are not meant for,” He said.
“Yeah.” I said still in shock from the vision.
“Right before we enter the mind of a human, we see their heart,” He said poking me.” We see what they fear, and why? So we can properly were their nightmare.”

“So do you know what that dream meant?”

“Yes, I gave Cender that dream. I used it many a night, until I could bare giving it to the boy no more.”

“So?”

“His father left him when he was young, never to be seen again. The day before he left he told the boy he’d fix his toy tomorrow. Hence the message on the TV.

“Wait… so he’s “gone”?”

“No, not dead. Worse. He chose to leave.”

“Oh.”

“Has your memory been jogged?”

I shuttered and shaking my head.

Firr patted my back and said, “There there my dear, you are in good care. We’ll get you home. Look through a few more with me and then I suppose we will go to the nightmare records.”

We rummaged through the mounds of nightmares to find one shaped like a long trench coat. It interested me, so I motioned to Firr to dive in too. It rapped its cold body around my apple-red cheeks and nudged me lovingly into it.

I blinked my eyes open to feel the tender icy touch of tiny snowflake on my snout. As a primal instinct I stuck out my tongue. Bitter. So bitter were the snowflakes, not cool and refreshing as memory told. A girl stood in the middle of the field, her long strawberry blonde her thrashed in the breeze. She called out “Hello? Mom? Dad?”

I opened my mouth to speak, but Firr filled it with mist silencing me. She ran to and fro calling, with each step more panic arising from her words as she begin to scream the same thing. She then kneeled on the snow dusted field and sobbed,” Anyone? Anyone there?”

I felt the chilly coat on my face and then I felt the gentler cold of the room.

“Firr, I don’t like these… I don’t like nightmares,” I whispered tears sprouting in my eyes.

He frowned. “Your too negative. A dream or nightmare is not created to create sorrow and joy alone. They show you something about yourself that you are too scared to look at. They help you overcome your fear, so you can beat it in your world as well, they help you see your dream so you know what you want when you wake up.”

“Wow, I never thought of it like that…”

“At least that’s what they, the other looms, tell me… did that one help at all?”

“Not really.”

“That girl had been in foster care her whole life. No mother or father, she knows them only by faint childhood memories and ideas planted and sewn by other. Anyway, let’s go view the nightmare records! The might help right? It’s only about a block away. The records say who received what nightmares on what days and by what loom. It might also interest you to read your book.”

“My book?”

“Yes, your book is a log of every nightmare you’ve ever had.”

My white canvas shoes squeaked as they descended the staircase with Firr following behind. Cender, who was standing by the door, said sweetly,” I hope to see you again before you depart little one, enjoy your stay while it lasts. Oh, and Firr! Please do visit again, it is so delightful to have company, it is just me and the nightmares in this big shack.”

“Will do! Farwell for now Cender!” Firr chirped.

There was no change in the sky. The sun had not budged, and now I was fairly sure it wasn’t going to. The drizzle had stopped completely now and the air was the slightest bit warmer.

Ahead I saw it. It appeared as if it was a library, with its great marble pillars holding up the roofing. I assumed that was the nightmare records.

“So who runs the records? ”I questioned.

“Like a collection of books in your world it has many a keeper. I know one.”

“That’s called a library Firr. And, pardon me for asking yet another question, but what is his name?”

“Hem, he is quite friendly! I think you shall grow fond of him like I have!”

Together we walked up the still rain-waxed steps to the grand wood door, so different from the house of Cender. The golden doorknob glistened in the forever fleeting daylight.

“Do we knock?”

“Do you knock at your libraries?” Firr said sarcastically as he opened the door reveling a wondrous sight. Shelf after shelf of shimmer covered books. It was just like a library, but bigger than any I’d ever seen. One giant book sat in the middle.

“Firr! What brings you to the records? You haven’t been here for ages… oh my goodness what is that thing! You brought a human! I always knew you cared about them, but I never thought you’d do something this stupid!” Hem hissed.

“Come now Hem, like I’d really steal her from her world? She came here on her own, following a dreadful nightmare. Now I need your help, we have to find her book so we can find this nightmare that has troubled her enough to bring her here.” Firr replied.

“Sure, whatever you say Firr,” Hem said moving his form, as if he was rolling his eyes,” You know what to do use the card catalog, and search by her last and first name. By the way I’m certain there are quite some nightmares piled up for you in your file.”

" Not now Hem!”

“What? Fine I’ll shut up. I’m just kind of upset you haven’t been around. None of the looms I’ve talked to had seen you anywhere.” Hem sighed.

“Come Claudette, the catalog is right ahead,” Firr said levitating to a gigantic pile of cabinet, each marked with a country. Firr opened the cabinet labeled United States to reveal more cabinets, labeled with numbers up to 150.

“How old are you again?”

It took me a second to answer, for my birthday was only about two weeks before I left my world,” Um… fourteen.”

He pulled the little cabinet door, now the littler doors had letters. He ever so slowly pulled the one with an ornate letter “E” on it, and thumbed through the card. He then jumped up and exclaimed,” Section USA 14 number 778982!”

I chased him down the halls plastered with books of every shape and size. I skidded round corners painfully cracking my knee on the corners of bookcases and slid to a halt just a bit past Firr.

There we stood gazing up at the wall of books, at least fifteen feet tall! I could now see on the spine of each there was a label. The one in front of me read 778903. I sighed. This would take awhile.

“Oh no worries dear, I’ll find it quick! I’m quite good at this, I used to work at the records many rains ago.”

“You measure time in rains? How odd,” I replied.

He paused for a moment,” I suppose that would seem odd to a human, but how else can we measure the passage of time. The sun never moves and clocks never move, no matter how hard I have tried to get them to start, so time is measured by the weather and odd events.”

“Am I an odd event?”

“I would say so Claudette! I’ve heard rumors it’s possible, but I’ve never heard of a real time where a human really did make it to Dusk.”

“Can you guys come to our world?”

“That I’ve tried as well… again, with no luck besides through a nightmare…”

“So when I leave I won’t even see you, or Cender, or even Hem again?”

“I wouldn’t say that, I’m certain I could smuggle some dream thread and sew myself into a nightmare for you and visit you every now and again.”

“I’d like that.”

“Ah! Here! United States 14 778982!”

Firr tossed the purple shimmering book to me. A puff of glitter jumped into my face when I caught it. I coughed and wiped off my eyes. It felt like leather, and looked somewhat worn. I was surprised at how large it was. I didn’t think I’d had that many nightmares.

“Well open it!” A voice came from behind Firr I assumed it was Hem.

“Yes do open it!” Firr piped.

I opened its worn deteriorating cover to the first page. It read…





“Table of Contents

Ages 1-2 ________________________ pages 2-16
Ages 3-7_________________________ pages 16-20
Ages 8-12 ________________________ pages 20-25
Ages 13-14_________________________pages 25-350”


I gasped as I read the page numbers for ages thirteen to fourteen. Three hundred twenty-five pages full of nightmares. I shuttered and turned to a safe age group, one to two. What bad things could I dream about when I was one? Each page had a nightmare one it. At the top it showed the date and time the nightmare was had and by what loom. Finally I saw the information that could help me, “The whereabouts of the cloth…” This first nightmare read “Unwoven and turned into better nightmare.”

Hem peeked over my shoulder and said,” Oh skip the boring baby dreams and get to last nights!”

“Oh let her read Hem! She’ll never get to see this book again after today so she might as well enjoy it!” Firr said scolding Hem.

“Hey Firr, if she doesn’t hurry she’ll have plenty to time to be reading her book!”

“Hem! She’ll be fine… just shush. Claudette dearest, it might be a good idea to turn to your dream…”

I couldn’t turn the page. The reality of what all I would have to relive slapped me across the face. I slammed the book closed, and for a second stared up at Hem and Firr who looked at me anxiously. I leapt up, scattering my book to the floor and tearing down the hall as if there were a murder on my tail.
I broke free of the library into the cold air. It was much cooler than before, the ground was painted with a white tint. The sky was still orange behind a strange milky film that foreshadowed a storm. But, not a rainstorm, snow? A few hours ago it had seemed so warm, but now it was winter.
Where to go? I had to make a choice soon; Firr and Hem would certainly follow me. Going to Cender would do no good. The Weaver! For some reason I thought he might provide an escape.

Like a jackrabbit I darted down the darkened streets trying to recall in which direction the Weaver’s home was. It was then I saw the thin black mist in the air. I breathed it in; only now noticing it was warmer than the freezing air that encircled me. It began to thicken as jogged into it. Disoriented I whirled around in the dark mist calling out to him,” Weaver! Weaver! It’s Claudette!”
Nothing answered. I whimpered and fell to my knees. Never before had I been so scared, the idea that this was no dream had become much more than an idea, it was now a belief. I sat there for a moment suspended in time. I shook my head trying to wake myself up. I shut my eyes so tight, hoping to open them to see the morning sun, but the darkness stared back. The silence was broken by a clicking in the distance, wiping my eyes and trying to hide the tears in my voice I spoke,” Weaver? Is it you?”
Something sighed a few feet in front of my. “Yes young girl, it is I. Are you really still here? That is not a good sign.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean I’d like to think that a kind loom might have taken you to find your nightmare by now. It’s been quite a few storms you know, and if you don’t leave soon you won’t be the only one who will be having quite a few problems.”
“What do you mean!?”
“Well Dusk knows you’re here. It senses there is someone out of place, and it wants you gone. The unbalance you create has brought the coldness. The coldness means to freeze you. It will destroy you if you stay, but others will be hurt as well. Looms cannot stand the cold and will turn to dust if left in it for to long. I, I will be fine. I can stand any weather, I feel nothing.”
“But, that’s not fair for Firr… and Cender… and Hem to die!”
“Dusk is not fair, and nether is anything you will face. It’s not a game,” He snapped.
I sunk to the floor. Numb. This seemed to tug at the Weaver, slightly melting him. He patted my back with his slick shiny needle fingers, catching the some thread and my coat and unintentionally snipping them.
“It appears there is more to your story,” He hummed.
“I don’t want Firr to get hurt, but I don’t want to find my nightmare, and I don’t want to go home! I don’t know why I just feel right here!”
“Why don’t you want to find your nightmare? Was it… that bad?”
I could not answer that I just shook my head no.
“Dear do you know why you have nightmares?”
I shook my head no like a small child.
“Not to scare you or hurt you, but show you what you hide from yourself, what you must confront. You’ve come to Dusk for a reason. Not to hurt the looms. Not to get yourself killed. A reason I can’t tell you. Now return to the library, and find it.”
“How did you know where I came from?”
“I’ve had my eyes on Dusk. The mists can see. I can watch what goes on all around this world. For it is mine you know, you watch your belongings don’t you?”
“Thank you Weaver.”
“You are most welcome dear. I must say this for you; you’re ok from a human. I hadn’t seen one of you in person for quite some time. I thank you for joining us.”
I nodded and shakily exited the small house I barely even recalled entering. I shivered as I left the warm black mist into the chilly Dusk. My feet were instantly encircled with freezing dust. I looked down to see the sparkling crystals ever so gently snuggling against my canvas shoes. Snow. It fluttered like moths in the grey sky. They landed so lovingly cruel on my face reminding me of my deadline.
My legs felt weak from running, so briskly I began my trip back to the library. The hairs on the back of my neck stood at attention at a low growl that echoed through Dusk. I froze. Again, but louder, and now a rolling roar rumbled from the belly of the beast.
“Claudette, make haste! Inside at once!” I heard Firr shout as he rushed toward me.
Life seemed to move in slow motion. The ink black beast broke free from nowhere, it’s dagger like teeth gleaming in the forever fading light. It’s fierce purple eyes scanned and locked on Firr. My mind stopped and my body moved as I dashed toward the beast.
I rapped my fingers fearlessly around its throat as the beast hissed and shrieked at my touch. My hands burned its black flesh. It snapped and thrashed at me in vain. At this point my mind revived itself and I realized what was thrashing and whipping in my hands. I shut my eyes tight trying to kill my mind for just a minute longer, but when they opened I was still staring down the hound.
I feared if I let it go it would be able to rap its jaws round me. If not we would just stand there at a deadlock for eternity. In the background I heard voices sounding, though the words mashed together in my head. With one mighty thrash it broke free of my grasp hissing and howling in pain. It dashed into the shadows coughing and limping all the way.
Dazed I looked back a Firr who had posture of shear horror,” What was that?”
“A hound Claudette! You’ve saved me! Without you I’d be taken over, I’d be gone! I will forever be in your debt great Claudette!” He knelt on the snow-crusted ground foolishly praising me with a misty bow.
“No. I mean, why did it not like, eat me?”
“Hounds can touch no human in this world. Though they crave them, to touch a human ignites their flesh and burns them until they are no more.”
“Oh. Well, that’s good to know.” I looked down at my hands, covered in a black chalky substance. There was a long silence. Snow melted as it dropped on my dirty hands, slowly washing them clean of the creature’s blood. I dare not look at Firr, for I knew I was not going to be able to get away with running out of the library without explanation. My mind searched ferociously for a subject that would prolong talking about my nightmare longer.
“Why do you really hide in your house?”
“What do you mean dear?” He said pretending not to know what I meant.
“I mean why hasn’t Hem seen you? Why don’t you come around anymore to the library?”
Firr paused. Regret. He shrugged. “You want to know why? It’s really not that great a secret.”
“Go on.”
“I hate to be a loom. I haven’t given a nightmare in numerous rains. It makes me feel so… awful. You look at someone’s life and personify what that person fears and hates most, and make the person live it, while you watch them suffer, the others say that it helps the people in the long run, but I never get to see that, I only see the struggle, and not the triumph. So I hide from my assignments, I hide from the clothes. Because, I can’t do it anymore, I can’t make people sad. The other looms they just tell me that humans don’t matter, and that I should just do my job… and I ask to many questions. Why do we make nightmares? Why can’t I be a human? Does this ever end?”
“…I’m sorry Firr.”
“Why are you sorry?”
“Because,” I looked down at the sparkle dusted ground,” I just feel sad for you; I guess if I was you I might feel like that too. Do you want a hug?”
“What is a hug?”
“Well, I wrap my arms around you and hold you close, and it usually makes you feel… happy, and warmish?”
“Claudette, I’m going to miss you when you leave, and that is another problem… you, the only person who really tries to understand… must leave.”
“I’ll miss you too, but no one will be able to miss anyone if my nightmare is not found soon. I love it here Firr to be honest, but it’s getting colder and you and me both will perish if I do not go where I belong and you where you belong.”
He bobbed up and down solemnly like a nod in agreement. There was a mischievous grin in his voice,” Claudette?”
“Yes?”
“Now that I have told what troubles me, you must tell what troubles you.”
Tears slithered into my eyes out of nowhere. They always sneak up on me, I keep saying, “I’m fine, I’m fine, it’s fine”, and the second I let my guard down, BAM! Ocean water begins to spills from my eyes.
He seemed to search for something to say, but a lack of communication skills left him floating there confused.
“I wish I could tell you. I really do. I always thought I was happy or kind of at the very least, and now I don’t know. I feel good here; no one talks to me like you do. Like I’m welcome. I, I just can’t put it into words…”
“Hug?”
Howls echoed in the snowflake soaked sky as his misty figure encircled mine. My breath floated in the air mixing with Firr’s form.
“The hounds sound sad.”
“I always saw it as more of a malicious growl myself, but I suppose…” Firr replied a bit thrown off by my statement.
“I feel bad for them.”
“Why in the world would you feel bad for such a horrid creature!?”
“They are a living nightmare aren’t they? So they are perpetually in fear and anguish, the feelings the nightmare was meant to invoke. What if they look for a loom to enter the mind of a human so they can try to rid themselves of the never-ending torment of being living pain? But, they never break free… “
Firr made a motion that resembled the way a human would wrinkle their forehead.
“Never really thought of it that way” He spoke softly grasping at the freezing air to regain his thoughts.
“Sorry, I was just thinking out loud…”
“It’s quite fine! That’s what I truly like most about you, you think and question the way we do not here. “
“Firr… I’m cold, we need to get started looking for my nightmare again.”
“Yes! Yes! “
“One more question… for now… How big is Dusk?”
“If I knew I would tell you.”

Cold autumn-night winds brushed their long boney fingers across my checks tinting them a faint sudden red. I felt like I was on one of those rotating platforms as I panned my vision across the horizon pondering how far it went. It’s odd to think that I’d never just watched the sun set and thought about how different the edge of our world and the edge of everyone’s world was before.
How far did Dusk reach? How far did my nightmare go? Questions scurried about my mind. Is it possible? If Dusk was as vast or even half as vast as the world I had left behind I could search for an eternity and never even see ground that it touched.
Firr rapped his arms around me for a misty hug and whispered,” Fear not my dearest. Dusk is just as small as your world, and the nightmare will not have gone far. It wishes you to find it and won’t give to much of a chase.”
“Wouldn’t it be in my book?”
“Why yes it would but you have to put on your dream cloth… or… depending on the nightmare… find the hound that brought you here.”
“Firr, I’m really glad you understand this place.”
Firr chuckled,” I understand so little.”
“So if I read about my nightmare I will know what to look for? Doesn’t sound that helpful.”
“Well, a hound will be looking for you and a cloth if existing will be in one of a few looms houses.”
“Firr, I’m pretty sure it’s a hound…”
“Why do you say… oh… now I recall… if you want to talk about—“
“No, not really. Let’s move,” I said, jittering from ice licked air. I noticed it for the first time. Firr was smaller. The mist cloud weaker. My breath was a deeper pigment then Firr’s body. That was why I was truly shivering.
“Well it would be helpful for you to know where to go,” Firr’s voice, softer than before, chimed toward my back as I strode, determined, in one direction. Panting he caught up. “Past the library. There. There is a tree huddle. A forest I believe the human term is. That’s where the hounds generally hide.”
“So that’s where my nightmare broke free to?”
“It’s our best bet, but we are probably going to need back up with that many hounds in one place.”
“Firr?”
“Yeah?”
“Hounds can’t hurt me remember?”
“I really just wanted to give u some moral support,” Firr chimed tilting his form to one side as if he was resting his head on my shoulder. I breathed frost ribbon, that mixed into Firr’s body.
“Shall I gather the forces?” He piped.
I looked him up and down and nodded reluctantly, and gave him a hug and he floated off as fast he could towards the library doors. Something inside of me feared he would just disappear in a mix with my breath and I would be alone.
He returned quickly, a smaller cloud panting like a dog, but accompanied by Hem and Cender, they appeared as though they were shaking.
“Onward Claudette!”
“Make haste, I come along only for my supply of knowledge, and because I know the weaver will not stop the cold. He cares little for the loams,” Hem snipped.
“I wanted to offer my supports,” Cender spoke in a weaker voice,” And wanted to thank you for joining us. Makes things a bit more interesting.”
“Your welcome?

Together we drifted on the air away from the loam homes. Away from my lopsided town. Away. Touching towards the forest, the darkness opened its mouth stuck out its tongue. We walked right into it as sunset lit skyline was chipped away at by evergreen silhouette. The forest was unknown. I was sure this wasn’t a dream.
“Claudette?”
“Yeah Firr?”
“I want to stand close by to you… I’ve never been here.”
“Me too!” Cender and Hem blurted out.
Hem spoke softly and rapidly,” Now listen to me girl, you best not mess up here. We approach on the darkest corners of the society of Dusk. We shall not follow you to the hound circle where to sleep and feed on the minds of children. This is one of two ways Dusk creatures can reach the human mind. Through dream clothes or through the hound circle. Mind you a hound can only nibble at the thoughts of a human from here, the only way they can truly consume them with fear is by eating a loam.”
“So how do I get back?”
“You have to re-live the nightmare dear. I believe this has been explained,” Firr scolded.
Hem shot him a glare,” First she must let the hound bite her, from there the hound will do the rest of the work taking you back where you belong.”
Belong. I paused thinking all of this over. So much information, like a cram session for a final.
The darkness began to give way to a different light. It was misty green and through the trees the sunset was visible again. Howling. Snarling.
“I’m not risking my life further, we are loams and we are going to get killed over a human, even if the coldness kills us I’m not getting ripped apart by a hound,” Cender hissed.
“Okay child, you must go forward into the pack. Your nightmare will come to you I’m sure of it. And if not… we’ll you know where we live in Dusk,” Hem said drawing back at the howling boiling louder and louder.
“Wait!” Firr yelped.
The weak cloud of mist was a light stain against the forest. He wrapped himself around Claudette. His form quivered. It started in the middle of the cloud, spreading like a disease, mist turning all shades of blue.
“Firr, are you okay? I’m sorry is this from the cold?”
Firr hung there in the air and then spoke.
“When we are not right we turn blue. When things are just, not right and seem like they are turning down.”
“When your sad?”
“Yes, that’ the human word…”
Tears formed at the corners of my face, gentle though, like kittens all curled up.
“I need one more hug, Firr.”
“Claudette?”
“Can we be friends still?”
“Of course! Why ever not?”
“You will forget me in your world… wait! A gift!”
He turned his form around concealing something; the other loams stared off into the forest timidly, slowly making their way away from me. There was always something they lacked, some people lack it too. (Do you know what I mean? I can never put my finger on it.)
“Claudette, stick out your hand.”
His foggy little hands lifted a tiny piece of dream thread. It beat with color. It was hard for him to lift, his cloud looked like the static on television screens.
“Now point at me, point back at Dusk,” Firr said sending off a melancholy grin from his fuzzy form.
Slowly he fumbled to tie a little knot around my index finger.
“It will remind you, and you won’t forget,” he squeaked.
All of me wanted to thank him. All of me wanted to tell him more. All of me wanted to find something to say but I stood. I stood.
“ This is goodbye sweet human,” nodding nobly he said.
He faded back into dark trees. He didn’t take his eyes off me and crouched in howl battered shadows. No fear. Only for me.
He must be cold. So cold.
I had to turn.
The hound circle lay before me.
And thus I walked forward Dusk reaching it’s fingers round me in the form of its citrus skyline. The hounds ears perked. I was spotted.
All did not rush though, all did not rush they looked about each other, mouths deluged in drool. They had a sort of nobility towards them though.
They let one rise, his black coat darkened the forest.
I did not blink, but I had to and by then he was at my heels.
I thought it would hurt. It felt almost peaceful his teeth sinking into me. Body torn I felt myself falling into dream and all became numb but my mind.
Firr stayed, but I knew nothing of Dusk anymore.
I was back where I began. The nightmare that brought me there, yet it was different. It was painless, it felt like a memory, a passed folly. It felt sad.
It was all a dream, I thought laying in my bed again. I could fell covers, so warm again.
But I was still cold. I tested moving my hands. Something brushed between my fingers. Something hugged my index finger.




My eyes opened.