A full moon illuminates the night like a dying sun, its silver light giving the small town of Traumwelt a soft, slightly unreal glaze. The once portentious peak of the moons cycle went largely unnoticed by a cynical and scientific world which had long since rejected the truths of its youth. Those that travel the dark streets have no fear of witches, they no longer fight off the Sand Fairy, instead fighting off `fatigue brought about by lack of quality sleep`. The figures which dance across this worlds roof-tops rarely put their occupants to sleep, though they do their best not to wake them.
Dark shadows flash across grey walls, quickly rationalised by `sensible` minds as mundane trivialities, `perhaps an owl or a cloud?` But even here, in the bastion which men call "modern thought", or "the twentieth century", there is doubt. In the depths of the human soul dark shadows fight against bleak, grey minds. These are the seed of doubt, and something more, something which scares us.
Belief.
Inside a small suburban house, away from the dangers of the unknown, a small boy lies half asleep. All around him modern charms lie, protecting him from the awful untruth of mysticism and the occult. Drab wallpaper and unremarkable carpets mirror those of every house on the block. There is comfort in uniformity.
A small night-light glows faintly by the boy`s bed, illumiating the child`s battalion of toy soldiers as they lie, massacred, on the field before the castle, martyred for their young generals entertainment. Books with dark secrets gather dust on too-high-shelves, masquerading as children`s stories. Morality tales with dubious morals fill their pages, written for adults in a time when children were protected from lifes horrors. Pictures of violence pervade a muted television screen, fictional death in a fake plastic world.
There are no such things as monsters. Johnny knows this and is not frightened by a howl of wind or a scream in the night. There is nothing under his bed, or hiding in the closet, of this he feels quite sure. Monsters live far away in a place called `Irak`. But he keeps the light on, just in case.
Outside Johnny Unschuld`s window, hidden from view by unremarkable brown curtains, an old tramp is being sick by Johnny`s father`s car. A wasted soul, the man pays his price for dreaming, of wanting a better world. His dreams are long faded, destroyed by mind-numbing alcohol, and the cruelties of a world with no respect for hope. Now he no longer cares for the world, he knows that there is no truth in dreams, only in pain and oblivion.
In the warm house Johnny is losing his battle with sleep, edging closer to the dream world which fills him with dread. Beneath thich protective blankets and holding tightly to George, his teddy bear, Johnny prepares for the battle which haunts his dreams.
Johnny prepares to fight for his childhood. |
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