A Dream of Two Bindings

I had gone to the attic of a three floor apartment building in the dream. My number one reason? I was told not to go there. The residents of the apartment building were very scared of the attic, with adults and children alike telling me there was a creepy monster up there. “Are you really going up there?” I nodded. “Lady, there is nothing up there worth going after. Nothing.”

“Then why the fear?”

“Because… the Nothing that is there, is enough.”

I smiled and told him I would be careful, and continued my ascent. The pull-down stairs led to a lock-less trapdoor. Pushing open the trapdoor, I was confronted by darkness and dust. Lots of dust. Too much floating dust than what should be here for a closed up attic. I flicked on the flashlight and looked around. The floor was covered by half an inch of dark brown dust. There were no windows. No insulation in the rafters. Just a few pipes that vented the sewer system. I climbed completely into the attic and allowed the trapdoor to close behind me. Looking down, I saw old footprints, but none that had been made recently.

I was alone.

But I could feel the heaviness.

I was physically alone. But I was not the sole thing here.

I turned off the flashlight and stood in complete and utter darkness. “Hello? I was told someone here needed my help. I am Weaver. How can I help you?”

“Why did you turn the light off, Weaver?” The voice was as soft as roses, as melodic as a tuned orchestra. I fell in love with it at once, and was ashamed to have my plain human voice follow such charm.

“I was…”, I coughed to recover my bearings. “I was told to turn the light off because your appearance may startle me. Your concern requires discretion. Better for me to see you gradually, if at all, than see you all at once and be frightened.”

The heaviness coalesced behind me. I felt something sticky and slimy touch my free hand. I didn’t react. The sticky appendage surrounded my hand entirely. “Then start with what is holding your hand. You don’t need to see me to help me, though. So when you have had enough, you may turn off the light again.”

I turned on the flashlight and illuminated my hand. The appendage looked like a giant slug with huge infected sores from which oozed a slime that evaporated when it touched my skin. The dried slime fell softly to the ground, appearing as a fine sprinkling of dark brown dust.

I’ve stared in to the face of many a horror, but somehow I knew, I had met my match. There is very little that I don’t become accustomed to over time. But this one is going to take more time than I had on hand. I turned off the flashlight, and surprised the creature by taking its appendage and wrapping it around my neck and chest. “So. What can I do for you?”

“You are… afraid.” It sounded sad. Its voice broke my heart into a thousand pieces.

“Yes, I am afraid. But it is an irrational fear. So I choose to ignore it.” I hugged the appendage. “I am afraid, but I am not panicking, or I wouldn’t still be talking to you.”

Another appendage wraps around my midsection, and I am pulled slightly backwards. Feeling the massive bulk of the creature behind me as it hugged me gently, I am glad I can not see further. I relax into the hug, and for a few seconds we share mutual comfort.

“Allow me to tell you why I am here, Weaver. This is my home. A long time ago this was a grove of trees. Then humans came and settled here. They were afraid of me, but they learned how to listen to me. They would always keep a place here for me, and I would help protect them. Many generations later, their descendants forgot how to talk to me, but they kept the traditions going because that is what they were taught. Many more generations later, the land was remade by the humans and I lost much of what I had. My territory used to cover the entire valley. Now, I am restricted to the attic of this one building. And even then, there is a false chamber in the back of the attic that only I can enter.”

“Most of the traditions are lost. Except for one. There was a promise made between me and the humans, Weaver. As long as the token of that promise is intact, I can not leave this world to join the rest of my kind. I am bound to protect the humans that live in this building. To keep them safe from outside dangers. There are not many dangers to protect them from, mostly mice and biting insects. The occasional unwelcomed thief is mine to delight in, however.”

“I do not want you to retrieve the token. It is safe. The children make my abiding here pleasurable. Before they are taught to fear by their parents, we play. There are many children here. They remind me of before.”

It’s voice drifted off into nostalgia. Blindly I reached out to comfort the creature. I felt my hand fall into one of the oozing openings. I bit my tongue to keep from yelping. Pulling back the hand and stroking to the side of the opening, I asked, “Then what do you need my help with?”

“There is an adult human that has learned how to hear me. Learned how to see me. And he has taught others. They are intruding upon me. Threatening me. They can hurt me. But, only if I’m in this part of the attic. I have been making a pocket room for myself. A place they can not enter. Once I tried to seal it, and they heard and came up into the attic and destroyed my work. I need you to make noise for me, and to stall them if they try to enter. If I am successful, they will think I have left.”

“Okay.” I patted the creature. “They think I’m up here to check the wireless network anyway. I’ll make lots of noise for you.” I reached for the flashlight and caught myself. “But, uh, I have to have the light on…”

“I will be in the back by the false wall. When it is done, it will appear whole and you will not even sense me anymore.”

Okay. That works. I turned on the flashlight, dug my alibi tools from the backpack, and proceeded making a racket. Stomping around, knocking on exposed pipes, loud bursts of expletives near any location that looks like it would pipe sound downstairs, and generally being an audio pain in the ass.

Behind me, I could hear the creature chanting the necessary spells. And by chanting, I mean making a large rumbling that shook me down to my bones. I think a few teeth rattled loose. I stepped up to the challenge and did as best I could to drown it out. Even making some (unnecessary) holes in (non-weightbearing) posts so I can say I was drilling.

The noise was intense and brief. It suddenly stopped and the attic became much lighter in presence. I flashed the light over to the far wall, forgetting I hadn’t become accustomed to the creature yet, and saw nothing. Just a smooth white wall.

I was alone in the attic.

Completely alone.

I was now quite creeped out.

The outline of a doorway suddenly appeared in the far wall. The door materialized and cracked open. “Thank you, Weaver. I have completed my work. I will be content with what I have now, and the children will be protected.” The doorway closed, the outline faded, and only the smooth unblemished wall remained.

I picked up my gear, threw open the trapdoor, and started descending the extendable stairs. I actually did do a wireless network survey while I was up there. Strangely enough, the amount of network interference dropped considerably once the creature sealed itself away. I mentally filed away a note to check that in the Waking as well.

Halfway down, I felt another appendage. Small with smaller extensions. Thin. Jointed. Boney. And gripping my ankle to the point of pain. “Get the fuck down here!” The hand pulled me down and away from the ladder. I fell backwards harshly. I tripped, and the momentum carried me over the third floor handrailing that guarded passersby from the open circular staircase.

I remember the sound of my head hitting something.

I don’t remember landing on the ground floor.

I remember some light pieces of railing falling on top of me.

I remember thinking if I survived the landing, I was going to kill whoever pulled me down.

I remember thinking that until I opened my eyes, I wasn’t going to get that revenge in action. I open my eyes. I’m laying on my back. There are broken railings around me. My head hurts. “She’s alive! How?” “Never mind how! She’s alive!” I try to speak but it hurts to even think. Someone runs away. Someone else leans close.

“There used to be a hidden door up there. It’s gone now! There used to be a monster in there. Did you see it? Is it still there?” The same man that pulled me off the ladder is whispering in my ear. I realize he had been blackmailing the creature. I shook my head in the negative. He became quite angry.

“It left? Ungrateful bastard! This is a human world now! It’s time is gone! I’ll find it, and this time I’ll chain it!” I wanted to laugh at him. The creature I talked to cannot be bound any further than what it already is. And from the sound of it, even that last binding is solely in its control. As if in reply, I feel a whisper in my ear. “Rest. You’ll be okay by morning. I couldn’t make it obvious I caught you. Thank you. I’ll be okay now.” A faint smell of something disgusting drifted by. I chuckled, knowing that all was as it should be, and surrendered to deeper sleep.

~~~

What’s this? I’m invited to spend a week in the countryside! All expenses paid? What sorcery is this? I don’t recognize who the invite is from, but my instinct is screaming at me to accept it. Okay, I do need some time to relax.

The open carriage from the train station to the Matron’s mansion was delightful. I didn’t recognize any of the others accompanying me, but they all treated me with a mutual respect. If you were invited by the Matron, then you were Someone Indeed. The mutual respect was shared by all, except for one. She sat at the head of the carriage, and generally regarded the rest of us as unfortunate tagalongs. The Matron’s daughter, the Socialite.

That evening, as we sat outside and listened to a string quartet serenade the setting sun into gentle night, the Socialite kept looking at me and huffing harshly in disapproval. I don’t know why she singled me out. I wasn’t the only person that had never been here before. I dressed quite conservatively, keeping the feather cloak out of sight. Visually, I blended in with the others quite well.

But the Socialite made it very clear.

We were not going to be the best of friends.

“Why did Mother bring you as a guest? You are too ugly and plain to sit at the same table with me!” Her harshness splits the serenity of the moment. A violinist is startled into a mistake. The Matron completely ignores her daughter’s outburst and continues facing the quartet. I decide to follow the Matron’s lead, but with my own twist. I glance at the Socialite as if I caught her in a whisper, smile, nod, and resume my focus on the quartet.

When it is clear I refuse to move from my seat, she flies into a rage and moves tables herself. She flies into another rage when only two of the twelve people invited to the vacation, move tables to join her. She starts to yell again, but this time the Matron turns her head and looks at her with a solidly emotionless expression. The Socialite ceases her screeching at once, but glares at me with vicious stares.

During an intermission, we chat amongst ourselves. One of the other invitees tell me all the gossip relevant to our group. Turns out the Socialite’s ex-lover is among those invited to the countryside. He has made a name for himself in the theatre. When he became more well known than her, she demanded he quit the theatre and devote himself to her because the theatre was taking too much of his time. But everyone knew that he was financially obligated to her because she rescued his struggling troupe. Like a loanshark, she continually changed the terms of repayment so that he would be her faithful toy. But a sudden windfall enabled him to repay his debts and he walked away from her on the spot. The gossiper supposed that the reason the Socialite was taking such a great distaste in me, was that he was making sure to keep me between him and the Socialite. She was assuming I was her ex-lover’s lover!

The gossiper leaned to her opposite side, to chatter on about something else. The Thespian moved to sit behind me. Leaning forward, he asked if I would stop by his room tonight. There was something he needed my advice on, but could not speak openly of it at the time.

The country air magnifies whispers, and the Socialite heard him clearly. Oh! What rage! “You belong to me! Mine! And I shall share you with none other! Certainly not low class filth like that!” We both looked up at her, but neither of us responded to her outcry. Her pride now wounded, the Socialite fled the tables and ran wailing and morose into the mansion.

That night, I stop by the Thespian’s room to find him and his ‘attendant’. They were holding hands as I entered, and quite nervous. I quickly closed the door behind me and studied the scene before me. I tilt my head and ask, “So, am I a groomsmaid, or am I running security at your wedding?”. I wrap my hands around their clasped hands and kiss my blessing and approval on them both.

“Madame, there is nothing greater you can do for us than what you have just done!” The fiancé was almost in tears in relief and happiness. The Thespian nodded in agreement.

I think for a bit. “Actually, I may be able to top that. Does she know? Or her mother?” They shook their heads. “I’ll distract the Socialite tomorrow, and y’all tell the Matron. But be prepared to leave quickly.”

The next day, I make a big fuss about not being able to find the perfect clothing choices. All this fashion is confusing! If only there was someone that had a good eye. But who would stoop to help dull and ignorant me?

The Socialite ignored me at first, until I asked one of the other invitees about accompanying me into town for shopping. She lept to her feet and bullied the other women into silence, She made it clear no one was going to put me in my place but her. The Matron watched in knowing amusement. She knew I was up to something, but didn’t know what.

I spent the day in town with that shrieking woman. I didn’t think I could make it through the day being dragged along like the public relations piece she was using me as. She made a great deal of showing off to everyone how magnanimous she was to be helping lower class people like myself. She “taught” me much about fashion and insisted on ordering clothes for me. But I knew this trap. At each parlor, I snuck a note to the Dames and the Sirs, detailing not to order what she wanted, and detailing my own order, if any, instead. On seeing my name, they quickly complied and helped me to delay the socialite further. They knew my name enough to know that it was safer to play with me than play against me.

We returned to the Matron’s mansion in early evening. A carriage adorned with roses was waiting at the front of the mansion. As the Socialite and I descended from our carriage, the mansion doors flew open and The Thespian and his husband came running out. Behind them in hot pursuit were other invitees throwing rose petals on them. They saw me and ran down the steps. They showed me their wedding rings and showered me with hugs and kisses.

Apparently, the Matron knew all this time of the Thespian’s deepening relationship. Her gift to them was a private wedding in the country. The other guests were a priest, required witnesses, and a few acquaintances that were to run interference if the Socialite daughter tried to stop it.

I was sad I missed the wedding. (Even though I had only met the couple for less than 24 hours, and only knew the Thespian for 36 hours!) But I was much more happy their day was not ruined. In front of the Socialite, I congratulated the merry couple, clasped their hands together, and blessed them anew.

Whoops.

The Socialite exploded in anger. How dare he marry a man! Wasn’t she good enough for him! Her reputation is ruined! Was her sex so disgusting that he fled her gender entirely? How could he do this to her? What about her? What about…

The sound of my slap echoed off the mansion’s facade. I looked up at her mother, the Matron, for judgement of my action. The Matron only smirked and raised an eyebrow. I nodded, turned my back to the still stunned Socialite, and picked up my conversation with the newly married couple where I left off.

They are leaving at once on their honeymoon. A grand tour of other grand cities. I wished I had more to give them than my words. I may have a name, but I’m still quite the pauper. They hugged me and said holding the Socialite away was worth more than any material thing. I kissed them both for happiness, and pinched their butts for luck. They waved farewell to one and all, and left at once. Most of the (now over) wedding party entered the mansion, talking brightly about contented the couple looked with each other.

“Weaver.” The Matron descended the steps towards me. “Your dinner is waiting for you. Thank you for helping.” She extended her hand to me. I took it and allowed her to lead me back into the mansion.

“Madame, if you already had people to run interference, why did you invite me?” She laughed a bubbling sound.

“Because my daughter is able to insert herself into nearly every plan I devise. But you, Weaver, are just the right kind of randomness to frustrate her. I owe you for this. They deserve to have their own life. And my daughter needs to learn she is not the center of the universe. You accomplished what I could not. And you did it quite well.”

I noted the Socialite was still standing on the steps. Angry tears running down her formerly painted face. “Madame, what of… Is she okay?” I did not want to hurt her. Okay, yes I did, but that was not my intent!

“She is fine. You did not harm her. Well, no harm for me to be angered about. Let the child sulk.”

A small table had been prepared for two. The Matron sat at one seat, I sat at the other. All others had eaten earlier but her. She had wanted to wait until I returned. So, we ate dinner together. She asked about the boutiques. I told what her daughter had tried to purchase for me. There was laughter and mirth at the small table, that lingered as the dream faded into darkness.

Make of that, what you may.