3
Talia
He’s insane. While there’s something moving in the forest, it’s probably the dogs chasing something. I whistle, calling them back to me. Why they ran, instead of attacking him and keeping me safe, I don’t know.
The noise grows louder.
He’s distracted by whatever fantasy he’s created, so I do the only thing I can.
Run.
I sprint the way I came, hoping to find the dogs, other people, anything.
My feet pound on the dirt path. My heartbeat echoes in my ears. I have to reach safety and report him to the cops. I’ll tell them there’s a maniac with a sword fighting invisible monsters.
Behind me there’s an odd galloping. I glance behind, but there’s nothing there, not even the man with the sword, yet I can feel something big getting closer and I can hear an unnatural clicking. I stumble. What if the monsters are real, and only he can see them?
It’s a ridiculous thought. Monsters aren’t real. There’s nothing behind me except my own imagination.
I’m yanked off the ground and tossed into the air. I can’t even scream because there’s no air in my lungs. The ground rushes toward me and I land on my side, dazed.
Then Sword-guy is there.
“I’m sorry.” He puts a hand on my head, then mutters a few words in some other language. The air shimmers and then I see the monster.
I close my eyes. It can’t be real. He just created it. Created it how? I take another peek. The thing—like a huge horse with six legs, but with an insect’s head and mouth—is prancing toward us like this is a game.
“What the hell is that?” My voice shakes. Sword-guy wasn’t lying. I wish he had been.
“A ceffylant. A creature from faery, you couldn’t see it because you aren’t fae.”
Uh-huh. Like I’m supposed to believe that.
The urge to run is in my blood, but I’m not sure I can. The world dances and sparkles keep forming at the corners. Am I dead?
If I am, I don’t remember dying, and surely I’d remember something like that.
The ceffylant darts forward and grabs my shoe with its oversized mandibles, dragging me away. I kick at its head and claw at the ground. As I twist my foot slides out of my shoe and I scramble toward Sword-guy.
I don’t know if I’m any safer with him, but at least he has a sword and seems to want to kill the monster. Sword-guy jumps over me—and I mean jumps, like movie superhero jumps—and attacks the ceffylant.
Instead of running, I’m frozen as he slices through the ceffylant’s head as if it’s made of butter. Then the whole creature dissolves in one giant ink splat.
Sword-guy lands in a crouch, wipes his sword on his jeans and turns around with a grin on his too pretty face.
Am I stuck in some kind of loop?
I am definitely dead. Or dying. Or something, because none of this can be real.
The world tilts and goes dark.
