Gravel crunches beneath my shoes as I walk along a winding dirt path. Trees surround me, reaching over head and block the night sky with their leafy branches. It has been dark for hours, but the light from my fingertips illuminate the path. The small balls of light tingle my skin as they bounce from finger to finger, casting shadows that dance alongside the trees. I do not know where I am going, the path felt never ending, but I know that I need to hurry. Something inside me urges me to go faster, to run, that there is no time to spare. Someone is chasing me.
          There is a crack of a stick behind me. Knowing not to look over my shoulder, I broke out into a sprint. Unable to concentrate on the light from my hands, the light starts to fade. Quickly, the shadows consume the remaining light, causing me to stumble over a rock. Falling forward and hitting the ground, the darkness swallows me. Without my footsteps against the gravel, the silence that follows is unsettling. The trees are not even making a noise. Digging my stinging palms into the ground, I push myself onto my knees. Again, another twig snaps behind me followed by the shuffling of feet. The sudden sound sends shivers down my spine and fear to creep into my chest. 
         "Charlie," a raspy voice whispers my name. The sound claws at my ears, abruptly filling my head with pain. Quickly lifting a hand to cover an ear to block it out, I reach out to stop the approaching danger. The light from my fingers suddenly returns, this time engulfing my entire hand. Instead of calming me, it burns as it quickly travels up my arm. I try to scream from the agony, but no sound comes out from my mouth. Instead, I found myself staring at the creature that stood in front of me while the light devours my skin. The light flickers in its soulless eyes, its mouth stretched into an evil grin across its face, with sharp teeth poking beneath its lips. Fear pounds in my chest, and know I this is how I am going to die. Then, everything goes black. 

            He takes his first step into the alleyway and wonders if he was doing the right thing. Every step forward is another step towards danger, but even so, he keeps moving. The sound of his footsteps echo against the brick walls that tower over him and an occasional face peers through the glass windows that are up above. They never stay long, not once they set their eyes upon the dark mark that snakes up his neck; the mark of a Traveler, the mark of his curse. It is an unspoken law of Alevioux for a citizen to not look at a Traveler without his or her permission, and if caught, they could be punished if the Traveler wills it. Not that their stares bother him. He rather enjoys getting to know the people of this world, when the people would allow him. They are lucky that he is one of the more compassionate Travelers. Travelers are meant to be feared, even though they are supposedly the soldiers of Alevioux. They are supposed to protect the people from danger, but he knows the truth. If everything goes as planned, there will be one less Traveler for the people to fear, for he will be dead.                    “Andrew.”
             He is at the end of the alleyway, which splits into two directions. Around one of the corners, his name is softly hissed. Stopping in place, his eyes fix on the corner in which he heard his name, and he watches as something emerges from the shadows. The darkness shifts like a wave as an outline of a body materializes. A hand reaches out, its claws digging into the brick wall as it pushes itself forward out of the darkness. A hooded creature presents itself to him, hiding its face in a shadow.
            Kneeling down onto one knee, Andrew bows his head and says, “Marah."
            “Stand up,” demands the figure as it reaches up and pushes back its hood. It reveals a frail looking woman with bright eyes. Even with her fragile frame, she still stands a head taller than him and there is strength hiding behind her eyes. It is an attempt to make her look weaker than what she actually is.
            Marah smiles, a row of sharp teeth pricking her bottom lip. “My son,” She reaches for him, setting her hand on his shoulder. Her sharp claws dig into his skin, but he hides the pain from his face. Instead, he returns a smile, one that is as fake as hers. Her friendliness does not fool him. Andrew knows what she is capable of.
            “It’s been awhile,” she says, a hint of disapproval mixed into her voice, “but I’m glad you contacted me. If anyone is to succeed this mission, It would be you.”
            Andrew stands up, his head slowly nodding. He says, “I will not fail.”
            Marah grins and replies, “Glad to hear it. You have always been my most trusted Traveler.”
            Yes, he is not going to fail. The fate of Alevioux is in his hands. He knows if he happens to fail, many people will die and even more will fall under the cruel rule of Marah. She may appear weak, but it is an illusion. Hidden behind the veil of sunken skin and thin arms, there is a strong woman. A woman that is actually beautiful when she is not hiding behind her disguise. He has seen it once and it was terrifying.
            Her eyes quickly darkened as she takes a step closer to him, “I need the stone of the Alevioux. With your help, Andrew, we could control the entirety of our world.”
             You’ll control Alevioux and kill me, he thinks. Either way, the outcome of this journey is going to end with his death.
             He smirks at Marah and nods, “All of Alevioux will fear you.”\
***
             The world twists around him as he struggles to break through the veil that separates Alevioux and the human world. He can feel the claws of the Guardians of the veil trying to pull him back, to prevent him from entering into the human world. Pain shoots through his legs as he breaks through, falling hard onto the tile floor of a kitchen.
            “Andrew?” He hears a woman’s voice, but his vision is blurry. Everything is in a fog. “Andrew!” The woman runs to him, dropping to her knees and grabbing his arm. He looks up to the teary face of his wife.
            “Theresa,” he whispers, moving towards her. A sharp pain drags down his leg, and he feels a sudden grasp of a strong hand around his ankle. Looking behind him, he can feel the ghastly arms of the Guardians reaching through the veil, searching for him. For the first time since he was first brought to Alevioux, he feels panic. He feels fear. After years of training to hide these emotions, they feel strange, like he almost forgot what they feel like. Seeing the face of his wife, dread settles over him as he realizes that this is the last time he is going to see her.
            “The kids?” He asks, knowing that they are in their beds sleeping.
             His wife shakes her head, “They’re sleeping. What are you doing here so soon? You weren’t supposed to be back here for another six months.”
             “I don’t have time. Something has happened back in Alevioux, something that won’t allow me to come back,” Andrew reaches to her, dropping something onto her lap, “Keep that safe…” There is a quick tug at his ankle, pulling him away from his wife. He can feel the light touch of the veil against his skin, while also feeling the invisible hands grab him. They are pulling, trying their hardest to drag him back to Alevioux. He looks over to Theresa, her eyes wide with fear. “I love you,” He said, bidding farewell, “Tell the kids that I love them.” The veil then collapses around him, surrounding him with his fate. 

 Gravel crunches beneath my shoes as I walk along a winding dirt path. Trees surround me, reaching over head and block the night sky with their leafy branches. It has been dark for hours, but the light from my fingertips illuminate the path. The small balls of light tingle my skin as they bounce from finger to finger, casting shadows that dance alongside the trees. I do not know where I am going, the path felt never ending, but I know that I need to hurry. Something inside me urges me to go faster, to run, that there is no time to spare. Someone is chasing me.
          There is a crack of a stick behind me. Knowing not to look over my shoulder, I broke out into a sprint. Unable to concentrate on the light from my hands, the light starts to fade. Quickly, the shadows consume the remaining light, causing me to stumble over a rock. Falling forward and hitting the ground, the darkness swallows me. Without my footsteps against the gravel, the silence that follows is unsettling. The trees are not even making a noise. Digging my stinging palms into the ground, I push myself onto my knees. Again, another twig snaps behind me followed by the shuffling of feet. The sudden sound sends shivers down my spine and fear to creep into my chest.
         "Charlie," a raspy voice whispers my name. The sound claws at my ears, abruptly filling my head with pain. Quickly lifting a hand to cover an ear to block it out, I reach out to stop the approaching danger. The light from my fingers suddenly returns, this time engulfing my entire hand. Instead of calming me, it burns as it quickly travels up my arm. I try to scream from the agony, but no sound comes out from my mouth. Instead, I found myself staring at the creature that stood in front of me while the light devours my skin. The light flickers in its soulless eyes, its mouth stretched into an evil grin across its face, with sharp teeth poking beneath its lips. Fear pounds in my chest, and know I this is how I am going to die. Then, everything goes black.

        Jolting quickly out of bed, my heart beating painfully under my chest, I grab my bed sheets around me as if to hold onto reality. Sweat drenches my clothing, causing the fabric to stick to my skin as I look around her room for verification that the dream is over. It is the same one every night, the same creature that haunts my dreams. I dread seeing his dead eyes, knowing that they will soon be stalking me the moment I fall asleep. For the past year, I have not had a dreamless night of sleep and not one without the terrifying creature.

        Taking in a deep breath, I slowly took a look around my room as I wake from the fog of the dream. I am home, no longer walking along the endless path. The same plain dresser sits in the corner with its broken bottom drawer hanging halfway open. The tan shades still hang limply in front of my window, blocking the light from the street lamp outside. There is no sign of the monster. I am alone in my bedroom, which is almost as terrifying after having my nightmare. Though, this is just part of my nightly routine. Sleep. Nightmare. Wake up. It is a constant cycle, and I know that I will not be falling back asleep anytime soon. I am in no hurry to see that malicious grin twice in one night.

        Tossing my blankets to the side, I swing my legs over the side of my bed and stand up. Walking through my bedroom door, my feet cold against the hardwood floor, I head towards the kitchen. I cross my arms against my chest as I walk into the chilly room and goose bumps dot my skin. Rain starts to tap against the glass pane of the kitchen window. Knowing where everything is in the kitchen, I maneuver around the room with ease in the dark. There is a small table that sits in the middle of the kitchen, the top of it covered with old magazines and a stack of final notices.

        I'll have to pay bills tomorrow, I think as I walk over to the light switch. I just got paid yesterday, so hopefully it will be enough to cover the house mortgage and electricity. Even though I am only 18, I am the one that takes the most care of my family's home. My mother is  ill, so she usually sleeps through the day while my brother, Justin, attends school.  When I am not tending to the yard or fixing a broken door, my free time is spent working at the local gas station. We live in a small town on the coast of Washington, which only has a few jobs for an 18-year-old, but there is enough people for gossip to spread like wildfire. It did not take long for everyone to know that our mother. is sick. Even though I do not know what she has, everyone in town sure takes pleasure in guessing what it is. Last week a family came up to me when I was working and apologized for our mother passing way. Apparently the current rumor is that she died. I really hope that is not the path that we are walking on, even though she has been sick for over a year. I am not sure if I will be able to handle it. It might just be my breaking point.

        I flip the light switch on, and turn to walk to the sink for a glass of water. Sitting in a chair at the edge of the table is Justin, who had been hiding in the darkness of the room only seconds before. Startled by his sudden appearance, I jump back, but then laugh.

        "Oh my gosh, you scared me. What are you doing sitting in the dark?" I ask as I walk over to the kitchen sink. Grabbing a glass from the cabinet, I fill it with water and turn around. I notice the worried look that is on my brother's face, who is hugging one of his knees to his chest, "You alright?"

        He shrugs his shoulders, and he drops his foot to the floor then runs his fingers through his dusty brown hair, which is  the same color as mine. Unlike my usual unmanageable curly hair, his is straight. He inherited his hair from our mom, while I got mine from our dad. It is one of the few things that always reminds our mom about him. She had gotten rid of all of his things when he had died, which was 15 years ago.

        "Sorry Charlie," he apologizes as he slouches back in his chair, "I’m just worried about mom. She's been up all night coughing again. I think she's getting worse."

        I lower the glass from my lips, glancing to the hallway that leads to mother's room. I have noticed that she has been spending more time sleeping than usual. Every time I offer to take her to the clinic, she refuses. "We don't have the money," she would say, then she would lay her head back down on her pillow and sleep. No matter how hard I try, I cannot convince her mom that we would find the money. Her health is more important to us than money, but she does not seem to agree. I offered to work more hours at my job and Justin even suggested that he could mow lawns, but she shook her head and refused.

        "I'll bring her home some cough medicine after work tomorrow," I say as I walk over and sit next to my brother.

        He looks over to me, and there is a moment of silence between us.

        "Nightmare again?" He asks.

        "Every night," I laugh dryly, taking another sip from my glass of water. Just then, the rain starts to fall down heavily. The soft tap against the window turns into a loud patter followed by a flash of lightning. Sighing, I set my glass down on the table and stand up. Walking over to a cabinet by the stove, I open it and pull out three pots.

Handing one to Justin, I say, "You know where it goes." Our house has three major leaks. If we did not have pots to catch the water we would wake up to a lake in the living room and kitchen.

        Justin grabs the pot from me, stands up, and walks over to the corner of the kitchen. Setting down the pot, he walks back over to me and takes another pot.

        "We need to get the roof fixed," He says as he goes to go set the pot down in the living room.

        "Yeah," I agree as I follow behind him. We really do need to fix the roof. "I have to fix the window in mom's bedroom first. It’s getting really drafty in there. We should probably move her into my bedroom until I fix it."

        "Charlie," Justin starts, sounding serious, “If I drop out, I can-."

        "Don't even try," I cut him off, setting the pot down on the floor by our worn couch, “You’re going to finish school." We have had this conversation before. Many times. Even though I appreciate his willingness to help, I do not want him to give up any more of his to help me. He helps out enough.

        "But, I'll have more time to help you fix the house and work," he argues, "We need the extra money."

        "No. You help enough after school. We're doing just fine, Justin. I'm not going to let you drop out of school," I say. I look over to him, his eyes starring sadly back at me from behind his bangs. Shaking my head, I sigh softly as I walk over to him. Wrapping my arms around him, I pull him into a hug. Even though I am two years older, Justin is still a foot taller than me. It always makes me feel like I am the youngest out of the two. It also does not help that the freckles that dot my cheeks and nose make me look years younger than what I actually am.

        "I want you to have a life other than what we have here," I start, pulling back a little so I can look up at my brother, "go spend time with your friends, start playing basketball again. Do things you enjoy doing. I'll be fine, we'll be fine. I appreciate the offer of you helping me, I really do, but I don't want you to give up your life completely." I do not want him to grow up any faster. He needs to enjoy being a teenager, since I was unable to. Giving him one last squeeze, I let him go, "go to bed. You have school in the morning."

        Justin smiles weakly back at me. Reaching over, he ruffles my hair. Laughing lightly, he says, "yes, ma'am."

        He turns and walks away while I sit down on the edge of the couch. I watch him disappear around a corner, leaving me alone in the living room with our dog who is sleeping in the corner, and the sound of the rain and the crash of thunder. When the lightning flashes, it casts long shadows against the walls.

        Small balls of light tingles my skin as they bounce from finger to finger, casting shadows that dance alongside the trees.

        A section of my dream flashes through my mind, and for a split second I am walking along the endless path once again with the light on my fingers. Shaking my head, I hunch over and grab the sides of my head.

"No" I whisper under my breath, terrified that I am falling asleep and getting pulled back into the dream. Every night I walk that path, but the dream never makes any sense to me. There is always this light that dances between my fingers, and in the beginning I can always control it. Sometimes it dances on my hands and sometimes I make it float in a ball, but the end is always the same. The light always turns against me, consuming me like a raging fire while the evil creature stares down at me. I wish I can get to the end of the path. Perhaps by reaching the end, the nightmares will end, but I never seem to get anywhere close.

            Taking in a deep breath, I stare up at the white tiles of the ceiling while I lie on the couch. It has stopped thundering about an hour ago, but it is still raining. For the past couple hours, I have been laying on the couch just thinking. I do not want to go back to bed, but even if I want to my thoughts would not have given me anymore sleep. I am worried, more than usual. There is so much that I need to get done. The leaks in the ceiling need to be fixed, a couple windows are drafty, and there is a section of our fence that needs to be repaired. Jax has not been able to run outside since the fence fell. Jax is our dog. Justin had gotten him for free about two years ago, and at first I was not happy. The dog is just another mouth to feed, but I soon grew to love him. It is nice to have something around the house that is always happy, but lately he has been restless since he has not been able to run outside as much as he used to.

Jax lies on the floor next to the couch, keeping me company throughout the night. Occasionally I reach down and scratch the top of his head whenever I need a moment of comfort. I have been thinking about my mom all night long; I am curious to know when she will wake up. Justin is not aware of the full extent of her condition. During the day she slept, usually locked up in her room, but at night time I often find her roaming the halls and talking to herself. She always is muttering something under her breath and eyeing the corners of the room. It is like the night controls my mom, making her see things that are really not there. Whenever I try to coax her back into her bedroom, my mom would hardly recognize that I am standing next to her. I want to scream at her, shake her, and tell her to come back to reality, but I know that it is hopeless. My mother is delusional, and I do not want to burden Justin with that news. As long as I can hide it, I am going to spare him from that information for as long as I can.

Reaching over the edge of the couch, I reach down to scratch the top of Jax’s head. My fingers fell nothing but air. I roll onto my side and try to search for my dog without looking over the edge to find him. Nothing. There is not even the cool touch of the wood floor. Confused, I lift my head and peer over the edge of the couch. I can see Jax, who has his head on his paws, and the floor, but my arm passes through Jax and the floor like they are not even there. Yelping from shock, I quickly pull my hand away and sit up. Hugging my arm to my chest, I look back to the floor. Jax is looking at me, his head cocked to the side. I must have been sleeping, having another dream, and jolted awake. Tentatively, I reach down and pet the top of his head. Solid.

“These dreams are going to me the death of me, Jax,” I say, scratching behind his ears. Just as I finish petting him, there is a subtle clank of something getting knocked over in the kitchen.  “Mom?” I call, pushing myself off the couch and stand up. Walking through the living room into the kitchen, I glance around in the dark. Over by the sink is a hunched figure, shuffling around slowly around.

“Mom?” I ask slowly, walking over to her. As I grow closer, I can hear my mom muttering quietly under her breath. Quickly, my mom looks up to a corner of the room then to another corner across the room. Reaching out to her, I place a hand onto my mother’s shoulder. Her head snaps back to look at me, her eyes hidden in the dark.

“Charlie, you stay away from those shadows,” my mom shoos me away from the corner of the room, “They’ll grab you.”

“Who will grab me?” I ask, confused.

“They,” she answers vaguely as she pushes me into the living room, “No, no, not here. Keep going.”

I know not to question her mom, so I allow her to guide me around our home. I am pushed into the bathroom, in which my mom closes the door behind us and turns on the light. Squinting hey eyes from the light, I look down at the floor until eyes adjust to it. Blinking a couple times, I look back at my mom who has her back to me. She is looking up at the corner of the room, but she soon looks away and over to me.

The first thing that I notice is that my mom is grasping the pendant of her necklace. It is a dull clear gem on a silver chain. The gem does not hold any value, especially in its worn condition, but it is a necklace that my father supposedly given to my mom before he passed away. I was only three when he passed, so I hardly remember anything about him. The only thing that I can remember is the way that he smelled. Anytime I smell something that smells like freshly cut wood, a faint memory of my dad reading me a book would flash through my mind. It would make me long for someone that I hardly remember.

“We’re safe in here for now,” my mom whispers, smiling at me. She walks over to me and wraps her arms around me in a hug, “You have grown so much.”

“Mom…we’re in the bathroom,” I tell her while wrapping my arms around her, hugging her tight. I miss her. I miss the conversations that we use to have, the ones that would last for hours. She miss the way that she would massage my shoulders if I am having a bad day and the night time stories she used to read.

“They don’t like the light,” she says, still holding onto her necklace.

“Then why don’t you keep the lights on all the time?” I ask her as she leans up against the bathroom counter.

She shakes her head, and says, “No, no, no….The light has even more scarier creatures than the dark….at least those in the dark you know are evil. The ones in the light trick you. You can’t always tell they’re evil. Don’t trust anyone, Charlie. You shouldn’t even trust me.”

Frowning, I say, “You’re my mom. Why shouldn’t I trust you?”

“These things are getting into my head,” She grabs the sides of her head, grasping handfuls of hair, “I can hardly tell what’s real or not. I’m not even sure if you’re real or if the light monsters are trying to trick me.”

“I’m real, mom,” I say, confused. She is not making any sense, “and there are no such things as light monsters and creatures that hide in the shadows. That stuff is only in movies.”

“That’s exactly the type of thing a light monster would say,” she responds, taking a step back away from me, “perhaps you are one of them…Perhaps, I’ll walk in the moonlight.” She turns her back to me and opens the bathroom door, slamming it behind her. I am left alone in the bathroom, feeling even more worried than before about my mom. Walk in the moonlight? What is that supposed to mean?

Gravel crunches beneath my shoes as I walk along a winding dirt path. Trees surround me, reaching over head and block the night sky with their leafy branches. It has been dark for hours, but the light from my fingertips illuminate the path. Small balls of light tingle my skin as they bounce from finger to finger, casting shadows that dance alongside the trees. I do not know where I am going, the path felt never ending, but I know that I need to hurry. Something inside me urges me to go faster, to run. Someone is chasing me.

        There is a crack of a stick behind me. Knowing not to look over my shoulder, I broke out into a sprint. Unable to concentrate on the light from my hands, the light starts to fade. Quickly, the shadows consume the remaining light, causing me to stumble over a rock. Falling forward and hitting the ground, the darkness swallows me. Without my footsteps against the gravel, the silence that follows is unsettling. The trees are not even making a noise. Digging my stinging palms into the ground, I push myself onto my knees.

        Again, another twig snaps behind me followed by the shuffling of feet. "Charlie," a raspy voice whispers my name. The sound claws at my ears, abruptly filling my head with pain. Quickly lifting a hand to cover an ear, I reach out to stop the approaching danger. The light from my fingers suddenly returns, this time engulfing my entire hand. Instead of calming me, it burns as it quickly travels up my arm. I try to scream from the pain, but no sound comes out from my mouth. Instead, I found myself staring at the creature that stood in front of me while the light attacks my body. Its soulless eyes stares back while looking down at me with an evil grin, its sharp teeth poking beneath its lips. Then, everything goes black.

        Jolting quickly out of bed, my heart beating painfully under my chest, I grab my bed sheets around me as if to hold onto reality. Sweat drenches my clothing, causing the fabric to stick to my skin as I look around her room for verification that the dream is over. It is the same one every night, the same creature that haunts my dreams. I dread seeing his dead eyes, knowing that they will soon be stalking me the moment I fall asleep. For the past year, I have not had a dreamless night of sleep and not one without the terrifying creature.

        Taking in a deep breath, I slowly took a look around my room as I wake from the fog of the dream. I am home, no longer walking along the endless path. The same plain dresser sits in the corner with its broken bottom drawer hanging halfway open. The tan shades still hang limply in front of my window, blocking the light from the street lamp outside. There is no sign of the monster. I am alone in my bedroom, which is almost as terrifying after having my nightmare. Though, this is just part of my nightly routine. Sleep. Nightmare. Wake up. It is a constant cycle, and I know that I will not be falling back asleep anytime soon. I am in no hurry to see that malicious grin twice in one night.

        Tossing my blankets to the side, I swing my legs over the side of my bed and stand up. Walking through my bedroom door, my feet cold against the hardwood floor, I head towards the kitchen. I cross my arms against my chest as I walk into the chilly room and goose bumps dot my skin. Rain starts to tap against the glass pane of the kitchen window. Knowing where everything is in the kitchen, I maneuver around the room with ease in the dark. There is a small table that sits in the middle of the kitchen, the top of it covered with old magazines and a stack of final notices.

        I'll have to pay bills tomorrow, I think as I walk over to the light switch. I just got paid yesterday, so hopefully it will be enough to cover the house mortgage and electricity. Even though I am only 18, I am the one that takes the most care of my family's home. My mother is  ill, so she usually sleeps through the day while my brother, Justin, attends school.  When I am not tending to the yard or fixing a broken door, my free time is spent working at the local gas station. We live in a small town on the coast of Washington, which only has a few jobs for an 18-year-old, but there is enough people for gossip to spread like wildfire. It did not take long for everyone to know that our mother. is sick. Even though I do not know what she has, everyone in town sure takes pleasure in guessing what it is. Last week a family came up to me when I was working and apologized for our mother passing way. Apparently the current rumor is that she died. I really hope that is not the path that we are walking on, even though she has been sick for over a year. I am not sure if I will be able to handle it. It might just be my breaking point.

        I flip the light switch on, and turn to walk to the sink for a glass of water. Sitting in a chair at the edge of the table is Justin, who had been hiding in the darkness of the room only seconds before. Startled by his sudden appearance, I jump back, but then laugh.

        "Oh my gosh, you scared me. What are you doing sitting in the dark?" I ask as I walk over to the kitchen sink. Grabbing a glass from the cabinet, I fill it with water and turn around. I notice the worried look that is on my brother's face, who is hugging one of his knees to his chest, "You alright?"

        He shrugs his shoulders, and he drops his foot to the floor then runs his fingers through his dusty brown hair, which is  the same color as mine. Unlike my usual unmanageable curly hair, his is straight. He inherited his hair from our mom, while I got mine from our dad. It is one of the few things that always reminds our mom about him. She had gotten rid of all of his things when he had died, which was 15 years ago.

        "Sorry Charlie," he apologizes as he slouches back in his chair, "I’m just worried about mom. She's been up all night coughing again. I think she's getting worse."

        I lower the glass from my lips, glancing to the hallway that leads to mother's room. I have noticed that she has been spending more time sleeping than usual. Every time I offer to take her to the clinic, she refuses. "We don't have the money," she would say, then she would lay her head back down on her pillow and sleep. No matter how hard I try, I cannot convince her mom that we would find the money. Her health is more important to us than money, but she does not seem to agree. I offered to work more hours at my job and Justin even suggested that he could mow lawns, but she shook her head and refused.

        "I'll bring her home some cough medicine after work tomorrow," I say as I walk over and sit next to my brother.

        He looks over to me, and there is a moment of silence between us.

        "Nightmare again?" He asks.

        "Every night," I laugh dryly, taking another sip from my glass of water. Just then, the rain starts to fall down heavily. The soft tap against the window turns into a loud patter followed by a flash of lightning. Sighing, I set my glass down on the table and stand up. Walking over to a cabinet by the stove, I open it and pull out three pots.

Handing one to Justin, I say, "You know where it goes." Our house has three major leaks. If we did not have pots to catch the water we would wake up to a lake in the living room and kitchen.

        Justin grabs the pot from me, stands up, and walks over to the corner of the kitchen. Setting down the pot, he walks back over to me and takes another pot.

        "We need to get the roof fixed," He says as he goes to go set the pot down in the living room.

        "Yeah," I agree as I follow behind him. We really do need to fix the roof. "I have to fix the window in mom's bedroom first. It’s getting really drafty in there. We should probably move her into my bedroom until I fix it."

        "Charlie," Justin starts, sounding serious, “If I drop out, I can-."

        "Don't even try," I cut him off, setting the pot down on the floor by our worn couch, “You’re going to finish school." We have had this conversation before. Many times. Even though I appreciate his willingness to help, I do not want him to give up any more of his to help me. He helps out enough.

        "But, I'll have more time to help you fix the house and work," he argues, "We need the extra money."

        "No. You help enough after school. We're doing just fine, Justin. I'm not going to let you drop out of school," I say. I look over to him, his eyes starring sadly back at me from behind his bangs. Shaking my head, I sigh softly as I walk over to him. Wrapping my arms around him, I pull him into a hug. Even though I am two years older, Justin is still a foot taller than me. It always makes me feel like I am the youngest out of the two. It also does not help that the freckles that dot my cheeks and nose make me look years younger than what I actually am.

        "I want you to have a life other than what we have here," I start, pulling back a little so I can look up at my brother, "go spend time with your friends, start playing basketball again. Do things you enjoy doing. I'll be fine, we'll be fine. I appreciate the offer of you helping me, I really do, but I don't want you to give up your life completely." I do not want him to grow up any faster. He needs to enjoy being a teenager, since I was unable to. Giving him one last squeeze, I let him go, "go to bed. You have school in the morning."

        Justin smiles weakly back at me. Reaching over, he ruffles my hair. Laughing lightly, he says, "yes, ma'am."

        He turns and walks away while I sit down on the edge of the couch. I watch him disappear around a corner, leaving me alone in the living room with our dog who is sleeping in the corner, and the sound of the rain and the crash of thunder. When the lightning flashes, it casts long shadows against the walls.

        Small balls of light tingles my skin as they bounce from finger to finger, casting shadows that dance alongside the trees.

        A section of my dream flashes through my mind, and for a split second I am walking along the endless path once again with the light on my fingers. Shaking my head, I hunch over and grab the sides of my head.

"No" I whisper under my breath, terrified that I am falling asleep and getting pulled back into the dream. Every night I walk that path, but the dream never makes any sense to me. There is always this light that dances between my fingers, and in the beginning I can always control it. Sometimes it dances on my hands and sometimes I make it float in a ball, but the end is always the same. The light always turns against me, consuming me like a raging fire while the evil creature stares down at me. I wish I can get to the end of the path. Perhaps by reaching the end, the nightmares will end, but I never seem to get anywhere close.

            Taking in a deep breath, I stare up at the white tiles of the ceiling while I lie on the couch. It has stopped thundering about an hour ago, but it is still raining. For the past couple hours, I have been laying on the couch just thinking. I do not want to go back to bed, but even if I want to my thoughts would not have given me anymore sleep. I am worried, more than usual. There is so much that I need to get done. The leaks in the ceiling need to be fixed, a couple windows are drafty, and there is a section of our fence that needs to be repaired. Jax has not been able to run outside since the fence fell. Jax is our dog. Justin had gotten him for free about two years ago, and at first I was not happy. The dog is just another mouth to feed, but I soon grew to love him. It is nice to have something around the house that is always happy, but lately he has been restless since he has not been able to run outside as much as he used to.

Jax lies on the floor next to the couch, keeping me company throughout the night. Occasionally I reach down and scratch the top of his head whenever I need a moment of comfort. I have been thinking about my mom all night long; I am curious to know when she will wake up. Justin is not aware of the full extent of her condition. During the day she slept, usually locked up in her room, but at night time I often find her roaming the halls and talking to herself. She always is muttering something under her breath and eyeing the corners of the room. It is like the night controls my mom, making her see things that are really not there. Whenever I try to coax her back into her bedroom, my mom would hardly recognize that I am standing next to her. I want to scream at her, shake her, and tell her to come back to reality, but I know that it is hopeless. My mother is delusional, and I do not want to burden Justin with that news. As long as I can hide it, I am going to spare him from that information for as long as I can.

Reaching over the edge of the couch, I reach down to scratch the top of Jax’s head. My fingers fell nothing but air. I roll onto my side and try to search for my dog without looking over the edge to find him. Nothing. There is not even the cool touch of the wood floor. Confused, I lift my head and peer over the edge of the couch. I can see Jax, who has his head on his paws, and the floor, but my arm passes through Jax and the floor like they are not even there. Yelping from shock, I quickly pull my hand away and sit up. Hugging my arm to my chest, I look back to the floor. Jax is looking at me, his head cocked to the side. I must have been sleeping, having another dream, and jolted awake. Tentatively, I reach down and pet the top of his head. Solid.

“These dreams are going to me the death of me, Jax,” I say, scratching behind his ears. Just as I finish petting him, there is a subtle clank of something getting knocked over in the kitchen.  “Mom?” I call, pushing myself off the couch and stand up. Walking through the living room into the kitchen, I glance around in the dark. Over by the sink is a hunched figure, shuffling around slowly around.

“Mom?” I ask slowly, walking over to her. As I grow closer, I can hear my mom muttering quietly under her breath. Quickly, my mom looks up to a corner of the room then to another corner across the room. Reaching out to her, I place a hand onto my mother’s shoulder. Her head snaps back to look at me, her eyes hidden in the dark.

“Charlie, you stay away from those shadows,” my mom shoos me away from the corner of the room, “They’ll grab you.”

“Who will grab me?” I ask, confused.

“They,” she answers vaguely as she pushes me into the living room, “No, no, not here. Keep going.”

I know not to question her mom, so I allow her to guide me around our home. I am pushed into the bathroom, in which my mom closes the door behind us and turns on the light. Squinting hey eyes from the light, I look down at the floor until eyes adjust to it. Blinking a couple times, I look back at my mom who has her back to me. She is looking up at the corner of the room, but she soon looks away and over to me.

The first thing that I notice is that my mom is grasping the pendant of her necklace. It is a dull clear gem on a silver chain. The gem does not hold any value, especially in its worn condition, but it is a necklace that my father supposedly given to my mom before he passed away. I was only three when he passed, so I hardly remember anything about him. The only thing that I can remember is the way that he smelled. Anytime I smell something that smells like freshly cut wood, a faint memory of my dad reading me a book would flash through my mind. It would make me long for someone that I hardly remember.

“We’re safe in here for now,” my mom whispers, smiling at me. She walks over to me and wraps her arms around me in a hug, “You have grown so much.”

“Mom…we’re in the bathroom,” I tell her while wrapping my arms around her, hugging her tight. I miss her. I miss the conversations that we use to have, the ones that would last for hours. She miss the way that she would massage my shoulders if I am having a bad day and the night time stories she used to read.

“They don’t like the light,” she says, still holding onto her necklace.

“Then why don’t you keep the lights on all the time?” I ask her as she leans up against the bathroom counter.

She shakes her head, and says, “No, no, no….The light has even more scarier creatures than the dark….at least those in the dark you know are evil. The ones in the light trick you. You can’t always tell they’re evil. Don’t trust anyone, Charlie. You shouldn’t even trust me.”

Frowning, I say, “You’re my mom. Why shouldn’t I trust you?”

“These things are getting into my head,” She grabs the sides of her head, grasping handfuls of hair, “I can hardly tell what’s real or not. I’m not even sure if you’re real or if the light monsters are trying to trick me.”

“I’m real, mom,” I say, confused. She is not making any sense, “and there are no such things as light monsters and creatures that hide in the shadows. That stuff is only in movies.”

“That’s exactly the type of thing a light monster would say,” she responds, taking a step back away from me, “perhaps you are one of them…Perhaps, I’ll walk in the moonlight.” She turns her back to me and opens the bathroom door, slamming it behind her. I am left alone in the bathroom, feeling even more worried than before about my mom. Walk in the moonlight? What is that supposed to mean?