There is a castle on the hill, its smooth grey walls apparently composed of hundreds of uniform stone blocks. Johnny knows the castle well, it is the castle on his bedroom floor, but more than that, it is the Last Bastion of Youth. There was a time when Johnny`s dreams were acted out within the castle and now he longed to go back there, to ice-cream mountains and piggy-back rides and laughter. But that was in danger now and so he stand, as did all children eventually, to protect belief.
A man stood by Johnny`s side, talking with HIS voice, devising plans for the upcoming battle. He was short and dressed in a Blue and white soldires uniform, a wooden rifle held in his strangely wooden hands. The colonel was a veteran of many campaigns at his masters side, fighting the unthinkables which only a childs mind could believe in.
On his ither side stood Captain George, holding his hand, offering protection from science and harsh reality. George was silent, indeed he never spoke. Johnny knows that Teddies couldn`t speak, that would just be silly.
In the distance a great army is silhouetted against the horizon, filling the pyjama wearing generals heart with despair.
Elsewhere in the city a group of young men and women seek out their dreams with their waking minds, using hallucinogenic drugs to let go of the painful reality which is their lives. Brain-destroying chemicals twist grey, warehouse walls into bright spires with chameleonic walls. A violent light show appears within glazed, narrow pupiled eyes. Young-again-faces grin at thoughts of ice-cream mountains and marshmallow skies. Loud music booms out from a forgotten, secular source, providing the group with a single heartbeat, one soul in shadow.
In a dark corner one mind has seperated from the group, his dreams all too real.
A hundred identical men are locked in firece melee with a thousand horrors, wooden guns firing real rounds, wooden bayonets razor sharp. At their centre a young man stands, growing in confidence as countless demons die, their black blood staining deeper than his chainmail armour.
The small army of brave believers fight valiantly for Johnny`s innocence, their hearts set on protecting their master. Evil frights with the face of Johnny`s Maths teacher jumped up from the ground, numbers battered their shields, launched from far off calculators. Somewhere up ahead the Tooth Fairy was held prisoner with Santa Claus. The army of belief marched on with misguided hope.
Deep behind the lines a small teddy bear lay dying.
Vile images assaulted a mind searching for blissful escape, ravens tearing at dilated eyes, maggots erupting form writhing skin. The waking nightmares of a trip gone wrong. Fighting for breath, for life, the raver tries to close his mind to the horrors that batter his consciousness but they are all too real. He screams for help but the others are sharing a much more interesting dream.
From the blur of bizarre and frightening inages a new figure slowly emerges and the boy`s vision slowly clears. A dark man stands over him, a long black robe masking his features. The raver knows him, as do all men, and waits almost eagerly for the swing of his scythe.
In a small suburban bedroom a small child cries in his mothers arms, he has had a bad dream. "It was just a dream" his mother repeats over and over, gently cooing him back to sleep. She considers asking her husband to remove the television from his room, perhaps that is the problem, after all he never switches it off. Silently vowing never to feed Johnny cheese before bed ever again she creeps out.
On unremarkable carpets a small brown teddy bear lies dead. |
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