Nightmares After Sunrise

Clary wasn’t supposed to be here. It was too dark, too early, too far from home. The little girl edged gingerly along in the darkness, guided only by the dim glow of the crescent moon above. Underfoot, the grass was damp, and around her, shadowy trees loomed. The girl hadn’t brought a torch with her; she hadn’t wanted her parents to wake up and notice the unnatural beam of light through their bedroom window. She regretted that decision now. Her over-imaginative mind, left unstimulated by the blackness of night, began moulding strange shapes from the trees surrounding her.

Were those thin, frail branches… or sharp, needle-like claws?

Were those leaves, rustling in the faint breeze? Or thousands of black tongues writhing together, desperate to taste the sweat seeping from the girl’s pores?

Clary breathed deeply, forcing herself to remain calm. She could do this. She said that she would. Clary hugged her thin arms to her chest and continued onward. It couldn’t be much further now. Surely, she was almost there.

Before she could take her next step, something warm and soft settled over her toes. Clary sighed in relief, the tension in her body immediately leaking out of her.

“Red Eyes,” she whispered fondly. “Where were you?” Clary reached down and gently picked up the furry bundle. In her arms, the albino rabbit settled, content to be carried the rest of the way.

“I was waiting by the shed,” a soft, high voice responded. “I didn’t want to stay there, alone with...her.” Clary sighed again, this time in exasperation.

“Only I can see you, silly,” the girl chided. “You don’t need to hide from her.” The rabbit was silent after that.

A few minutes later, they arrived. Before them, a small corrugated-iron structure was dimly lit by the moon. Clary set Red Eyes down and slowly approached the gaping blackness of the shed’s open door.

“I didn’t think you would come,” came a voice from inside. Clary huffed, crossing her arms.

“I told you I would,” she grumbled. “I’m not scared.” The voice chucked, amused by Clary’s defensiveness.

“Come on in, then.”

Swallowing nervously, Clary inched her way through the door. “Move two steps to your right. Your seat is right here, next to me,” instructed the disembodied voice. Clary did as she was asked, and gingerly sat down on what felt like a fruit crate. She felt Red Eyes’ soft fur press against her ankle. Knowing that the other person couldn't see her in the dark, she reached down to stroke him.

“See, Alice?” Clary asked smugly. “I told you I wasn’t scared.”

The other girl hummed. “I was terrified, the first time I was here at night.” Clary frowned thoughtfully, considering Alice’s words. Alice seemed to love this place. In fact, in the month that she’d known her, Clary had never seen Alice outside of the old shelter. About a week into their friendship, Clary had asked Alice to come have dinner at her house, somewhat eager to spend time with her first-ever friend in a less rustic setting. Alice had smiled sadly, before saying that she probably couldn’t. When Clary had asked why, Alice had simply shrugged.

Thinking Alice was worried about bothering her parents, Clary also asked her father if she could invite her friend over. Strangely, he’d frowned, and reprimanded her for saying Alice’s name.

Clary had no idea why both her father and Alice were so averse to her only friend visiting their home. Was Alice in trouble? Sometimes, she wondered whether her friend was in hiding - camping out in the shed for days on end, lest she be discovered by the people searching for her. Realistically, she knew that was unlikely, but until Alice gave her a different explanation, Clary was content with her imagined situation.

“It won’t be long now,” Alice’s soft voice interrupted her thoughts. Clary felt her friend clasp their hands together tightly in apprehension. Clary gasped. “Your hands are freezing!” she whisper-yelled. “How're you so cold?” The other girl giggled, a light sound disrupting the darkness around them.

“That doesn’t matter now,” she crooned. “Look out the window.” Clary turned to gaze through the murky glass behind her. Outside, a soft, golden light creeped across the sleeping land, blanketing the rows of pear trees in a warm, yellow glow. Clary smiled to herself, remembering how just minutes before, those trees had frightened her. She was always amazed by how quickly her fears dissipated in daylight.

The two girls watched in awed silence as the sun pushed colour back into the sky. Soon, beautiful strokes of pink, yellow, and orange filled the vast heavens. Clary turned to look at her friend. Alice’s blue eyes twinkled as she returned Clary’s gaze.

“What do you think?” she asked, smiling.

“I love it,” Clary sighed. “I just wish I could stay longer.” Clary had to leave soon; she wanted to be home before her parents woke up.

Alice squeezed Clary’s hands in an icy grip. “It’s ok,” she whispered. “You should probably go now.”

…

Clary plucked a low-hanging fruit from the nearest pear tree and nibbled on it as she hastily made her way back through the orchard and up to her house. When she arrived at the front door, she tossed the pear core into a nearby bush and pulled out her house key. Gingerly, she unlocked the door. She hesitated before turned the knob. Her parents were probably still asleep. They’d have no idea where she’d been, right?

Wrong.

…

“Do you have any idea how stupid what you just did was?” her father fumed. “You’re ten years old! You should know better than to be wandering alone at night.”

Clary shuffled in her chair, wringing her hands in her lap. “I wasn’t alone,” she protested weakly. “I was out with Alice and Red Ey-” She tried to stop herself from saying the second name, but the damage had already been done. Her father slammed his fist down on the kitchen table, making Clary flinch.

“How many times do I have to tell you?” he ground out. “You are too old for imaginary friends!”

…

Clary laid in bed, staring absently at the ceiling. She was grounded. She’d spent the entire day under her blanket, trying to recover from the confrontation with her father. Now though, she listened intently as her parents argued in the next room.

“There’s something seriously wrong with that child,” growled Clary’s father. “The way she’s acting isn't normal.”

“Can you blame her?” her mother countered heatedly. “She has no friends out here, she’s probably bored witless.”

Clary stopped listening after that.

…

The next day, Clary really was bored. She tried to pass the time by drawing, but she wasn’t feeling particularly creative. By noon, she had finished her book, and had nothing else to read. Desperate for more mental stimulation, Clary sneaked into her father’s study. The girl hastily snatched various papers from his desk and brought them back to her room.

She sat cross-legged on her bed as she investigated her findings. Most of the papers weren’t particularly engaging; she rifled through train articles, farm reports, and electricity bills before finding one item that caught her eye. It was a front-page news story.

Wide-eyed, Clary absorbed the inked words. Her hands shook as she gripped the paper tightly.

Young girl found dead in local orchard…

…lured with rabbit into abandoned shed…

…both girl and rabbit strangled…

Murderer apprehended, awaiting trial...

Clary’s white-knuckle grip loosened, and she let the newspaper slip from her grasp. She needed to see Alice.

…

Clary didn’t care that she’d be in more trouble. She sneaked out again, an hour before dawn, and trudged her way through the darkness, down to the old shed. She wasn't afraid this time. She didn’t know what she was feeling. Along the way, Red Eyes joined her, and she picked him up without a word.

When Clary arrived at the shed, she hugged the rabbit close to her chest and walked through the door. “Where’ve you been?” Alice's voice came from the darkness. Clary ignored her question and sat down. She nervously stroked the rabbit on her lap and took a deep breath.

“I need to ask you something.”

...

Alice’s voice trembled as she recounted her last night alive. She sniffled when she described the kind man with the white rabbit. The musty old shed. The calloused hands around her neck. The burning in her lungs.

Then finally, nothing.

Clary didn’t say anything. She simply sat there in the dark, stunned into silence. She could hear Alice’s muffled sobs and reached out to clasp her hand. It was cold. Neither of them spoke again after that. Red Eyes nuzzled further into Clary’s lap, and the girl buried the fingers of her free hand into his soft, white fur.

Despite the newspaper, despite Alice’s confession, despite her father’s anger, Clary hoped that it wasn’t true. Hoped that her mind was simply playing a cruel trick on her. But when the sun rose, stretching golden fingers over the emerald treetops, Clary’s eyes welled with tears.

Alice and Red Eyes were gone.