Short Story: Enter Sandman

Oops, I didn't mean to take that much time away. Time to take one of the precious short stories-in-waiting from the pile...

I'm really proud of this one. I love it. I wrote it... maybe a couple of months ago? Anyway, it's pretty mature, so don't read it without your big-boy glasses.

Oh, and by the way, I wrote this because I heard the song "Enter Sandman" by Metallica on the radio. It was mind-blowing to hear metal on the station I was listening to, which mostly plays random 80's and 90's stuff, never anything that hard. I love metal, so it was wonderful to hear, and I also got a short story from it.



Enter Sandman

Now I lay me down to sleep

Pray the Lord my soul to keep

And if I die before I wake

Pray the Lord my soul to take

Marie slipped underneath the cotton sheets on her twin bed, pulling the covers just under her eyes and peeking innocently up at her father. "Goodnight, Daddy." she whispered.

"Goodnight, Mary-berry. Did you remember to say your prayers?"

A pause followed and drifting green eyes, before snapping back to her father to answer. "No, Daddy, I forgot."

"Well come on out then, Marie, before you go to sleep.”

Marie pulled the covers away and slid off the bed, kneeling down with clasped hands and forehead cuddling the sideboard, baby blue nightgown sweeping her calves; the gown thin, soft, and lacy on the bottom. Her bowed head close to her interlaced fingers, she looked shyly over at her father. "Pray with me, Daddy?"

"Sure, Marie." He took a step away from the bed and also kneeled by the sideboard. "I'll start, and you repeat, honey. Now I lay me down to sleep."

"Now I lay me down to sleep." repeated Marie.

Older, "Pray the Lord my soul to keep."

Younger, "Pray the Lord my soul to keep."

Father, "And if I die before I wake."

Daughter, "And if I die before I wake."

Bass, "Pray the Lord my soul to take."

Alto, "Pray the Lord my soul to take."

Both unclasped their hands and stood up, Marie pulled on the sheets to help her. She climbed back into her bed, under the covers, head atop the pillow. Her father bent down and kissed her forehead. "Goodnight, Marie. Sleep tight, sweet dreams from The Sandman." he smiled, then turned to leave the room, turning the light off and closing the door behind him.

Marie, in darkness, stared at the ceiling for a few minutes. She closed her eyes, collecting her thoughts; filing off memories and relaxing into sleep.

***********

The young man's eyes weren't really accustomed to the dark, and he fumbled with the paperclips. He grappled at one with his good hand, scraping the metal up against the back of the door knob. His other hand was wrapped very thickly in an ace bandage from his knuckles to the middle of his forearm. The cream-colored cloth bandages went only a bit onto his fingers so he did have a little freedom with them, but it was hard to grasp the other mangled paperclip. He had to use both hands for this job, one paperclip for each hand.

He shivered. It was sort of cool out, but the main reason it seemed cold was because he was wearing tights- yes, pantyhose, the kind women wore, but they were green. He had cheap brown cloth shoes on his feet and a silly little green shirt on that came down a small bit, like a raggedy skirt. He couldn't understand why anyone would create a character in a children's story to look like such a faggot, but here he was, just the same, in this stupid costume. He lifted one paperclip and slid the other.

He even had a cheap green hat with a long feather in it, and he had dyed his dirty-blond hair red last night. Hey, who knew, it might just work out exactly the way he planned, and if it did then he would secure his future for the better. Yeah, everything will be fine, he thought. Everything's thought through.

Having slid the paperclip in the full arc, the door was successfully unlocked. He dropped the paperclips on the concrete outside the door, he had no more need of them. He blew on his cold fingers, then pulled open the door.

***********

The sound was so faint that Marie didn't really hear it until he was a couple feet away from her bed. She was about to scream, but he quickly put his good hand around her mouth. A muffled, strangled noise came from behind his tight fingers, and the girl's big watery eyes looked at the silhouette of the stranger, terrified. The white moon had come out from behind some clouds, and seeing this, the boy  leaned forward into the light. His gentle, friendly eyes looked into the girl's, he was just visible in the moonlight. The girl made some softer noises from beneath the boy's hand, and he moved it slowly away. His hand was soft.

"Who are you?" she asked.

"Don't you recognize me?" he asked, grinning.

The girl was silent.

"Here," the boy said, squinting into the dark room, reaching to a lamp and turning the dim light on. He backed away from the bed and stood straight and tall, his head held high and his hands in fists on his hips. His feet shoulder length apart, powerful, he looked at her and grinned again. "Now?" he asked.

The girl, from the bed, took in the green shirt and pantyhose, the red hair and the feathered hat. Her eyes widened in excitement and hope and kid-magic. Full of admiration, she said, "You're Peter Pan!"

He smiled proudly. "Yep. The very same."

Marie gasped and stared in a gaping smile at the young man. "Are you going to take me to Never-never land?"

The boy, embarrassed, forced out an awkward chuckle and said, "You know, I'd love to, but I don't have any fairy dust. You know that you need angel- I mean fairy dust- to fly."

Marie gasped again, this time in horror, her hands flew to cover her mouth. "Tink!? What happened to Tinkerbell?"

"Well, she's..." he paused, looked right into Marie's eyes. "I don't mean to worry you."

Marie, staring, her hands still over her open mouth, shook her head no.

"She's... dying. Of course you know all about fairies, you're a smart girl, but-"

"You could've clapped your hands and saved her!" her voice was on the border of accusation.

"But look." He stretched his hands out to her, to let her see more clearly the ace bandage. "My hand's broken. I can't make any sort of noise at all with this thing on, and I can't very well take it off."

"Oh." her eyes fell, and the excitement was gone.

"But that's why I need your help," the boy said, coming closer again and sitting on the edge of the bed. "I need you to clap for me and bring Tinkerbell back to life before it's too late. We still have some time, but we have to hurry."

"Then let's go now!" Marie sprang up and out of bed, running to the door and out in the hallway. "Come on, Peter Pan!"

The boy who called himself Peter stayed in the room a moment, his eyes sweeping the walls and floor. He looked at the doorway, and thought of the girl so willing to go. He smiled, a deep, dark smile; so unlike the charming grin of the hero in the children's story.

****************

Once the girl was safely buckled in the car, the boy slid into the driver's seat and breathed a shaky sigh out through his cheeks. There was a good walk from the girl's house to the car, after all he didn't want the parents in the house to hear him or to see the headlights. For part of the walk he had carried her, she was tired, and he told her how wonderful it was to live in Never-never land and stay a child always, to never grow up.

As he carried her to the car and she hugged his neck, he told her what it was like to fly. "Oh, it's great. So wonderful. You feel so... detached, you know? Sometimes you can get a little numb in your arms and legs, but it's not so bad. It's also a little hard to control where you're going, but oh, you feel invincible. And sometimes you get a little dizzy if you get really high. But man, I love it. It's great going really high."

The key struck the car and the engine turned over, headlights flashed, exhaust blew. Over the rumbling of the car the boy said to the child, "Growing up is really overrated."

Marie looked at him, and although she didn't know what 'overrated' meant, she knew by the way he said it that growing up was bad.

He continued, and Marie was quiet. "This place has got to be the best you'll ever go to. Much better than here where you have to get older." There was an awkward pause, then he said nothing for the rest of the 10-minute trip, his eyes focused on the road.

**************

When the car stopped, the boy grabbed the key and flung open his door. "Follow me." he called to her, and she followed. He opened the door to the dilapidated off-white house, leaving it open for her, turned on some lights, got out his cellphone. He dialed some numbers, waited a few seconds, stuffed his car keys into his pocket, then said "Hey, it's me." into the receiver.

Marie did not hear the reply, but if she did she would've heard a sleepy, confused, frustrated but still smoky female voice. "Hoodat?" the woman said.

"You know." he glanced awkwardly at the child.

"Whatchoo havin' me guessin' for? It's one in the morning, douche-bag."

The boy coughed and muttered, "James."

"Oh, Jim. What, you lonely or somethin'? I can't talk right now, I'm sleepin'. Dealers gotta sleep too, you know. Besides, you still have to pay me for last time. Money don't grow off of trees."

"Yeah, I know, that's why I called you."

"You tellin' me you got yourself a job?" the woman snorted. "Hell no, not lazy-bones Jim. You couldn't even f-"

"Look," he said, interrupting her, "We need some fairy dust."

"Fairy dust? What the hell you takin' now? You mean angel dust, dimwit?"

"Yeah, that's what I meant, whatever. I uh, I have a friend here."

"If your friend wants some too, it'll cost the same for them. I ain't making discounts for friends."

"No, uh... it's a little girl."

"Little? How little?"

"Maybe six."

"What!? Jesus, James, what the hell you got a six year old for?"

"Well, I don't have any money. I thought if we could-"

"Jim, did you kidnap this kid?" her voice was stern, yet more exhausted. She sighed. "I don't have time for this. You could get in jail."

"Same for you, having fairy dust."

The woman on the other side said nothing. Then she said, "Get me the money, I'll get you the dust. It'll be extra though, cause you didn't pay up last time."

"Fine. How much?"

"Last bunch and this bunch'll be about... a thousand would do."

"Jeez, really?"

"Hey, it's your high." she said, and hung up.

The boy closed the phone and sighed. He turned his head, looked down at the girl. "Hey, what's your phone number?"

At this Marie was confused. "Why?"

"We'll need it if... if you get homesick in Never-never land." he improvised.

"six zero two, zero one nine three." she said.

"Great. Thanks." he opened the phone again and dialed the number. He waited for the phone to be picked up.

And he waited.

And waited.

"Damn!" he spat. "Don't they care about you?"

Marie was concerned, she didn't like hearing Peter Pan swearing. She wanted to go to Never-never land. "Peter?" she asked hesitantly. "Where's Tinkerbell? Were you just talking to her?"

The boy looked over at her calmly and spoke in a gentle, deep voice. "Yeah, that was her. She's... she's getting better. We'll still need that dust to fly high, though. Hang on a second-" he turned around in a little half circle, his head low, his hands out, searching for something forgotten. He reached into a pile of discarded clothes, brought out a small packet of white powder. "Yeah! Here we go."

"Are we going to Neverland now?" Marie asked. She was getting cold.

"Well, I still got some dust here, from last time... last time I was flying. Hey, uh-" he stuck his hand into his pocket and his fingers brushed his car keys. "Oh, could you do me a favor? I left my keys in the car. Go get them for me, would you? It's very important, so don't come back until you've got them."

Marie hesitated; she didn't remember him putting the keys in his pocket, but she didn't remember them being left in the car, either. She ran obediently to the car and closed the door.

Quickly the boy turned and dialed, once again, Marie's phone number. Finally, the receiver clicked and a loud, angry voice answered. "What the helldya want? We're trying to sleep-"

"I've got your daughter." The man named James cut in. "I've got her here and I'm not giving her up until you pay ransom."

There was a silence, filled with the man's worry and sudden terror. "For Pete's sake, how much?"

"Ten thousand."

"Where are you? Can I talk to her?"

"I'm at 2504 Linden Avenue. White house. Hurry up and you'll be able to talk to her in person, otherwise you might not be able to."

"Please, let me speak to my daughter!" he begged.

"Fine." then covering the phone with his hand, yelling, "Yo, my little friend! You can come back, now."

Marie walked back, full of shame and tears and red cheeks. "I-I-I didn't find..."

"Aw, I'm sorry, baby," he cooed, in ironic friendliness. Then almost smiled to himself, the tears would be a nice touch for the worried father. "Okay, repeat after me, 'I'm here with my friend and you better hurry with your price'. You got that? Say it really loud." James held out the phone in the air above the girl.

Marie shouted, "I'm here with my friend and you better come fast with your price." then smiling up at him, "Was that good?"

"Beautiful, hon, you did great." he twitched. A sudden change of mood came over him and he shouted into the phone, "You got that?! Get your money and get over here!" he twitched again, his hand dropped his phone and it clattered on the floor.

Marie, with tears still on her face, was frightened. "You okay, Peter Pan?"

"Nah, little friend, I need some dust." he said in a husky whisper. He grabbed at the bag he had found, scratching and tearing at it, stretching the plastic. He stuffed his face into the small bag and inhaled. Not the way he normally did it, but it got the job done.

Colors spun, the world flipped upside down. The girl grew to unimaginable heights and looked down at Will with eyes like light bulbs. "Let's go to Never-never land," the girl’s voice was as deep as Satan's. "The world where we'll never grow up."

James, in terror and adrenaline, reached for the dagger in a belt around him that was part of his costume. "You'll never grow old, that's for damn sure." he said, as he slashed the dagger. He slashed at the lighted eyes of the monstrous thing, the gaping mouth with its numerous sharp teeth, its neck so... small and white. The little girl collapsed, still in her nightgown, now bloody. Her face and neck was cut, she was no more the adorable girl she had been. She was a mess.

The boy stumbled back, still in some sort of trance. "Never grow up..." he mumbled. The knife fell to the floor and made a weird sound, the sound of a cat screech. Suddenly, lights.

Lights were everywhere and blinded James, costumed as Peter Pan, and although he wanted the lights to stop he could do nothing, and instead tore at the ace bandage that had become a snake around his wrist. Hissing, the snake slithered away into the blinding light and James flexed his hand, the hand under the bandage that had never been broken. The lights, so bright... yet so beautiful. And like a moth to a lamp, so William to this heavenly light…

***********

A frazzled man in the blue truck hit something- he thought it must have been a person, a person that had, for some reason, ran into the approaching truck. Bringing a wad of green paper bills, his eyes searched anxiously in the light of his headlights for the body, praying to God that it wasn't his daughter, praying, praying, that her soul had not been taken.

Thanks for reading!

Your sadistic friend,
Layla