Chapter 2: Chapter Two
Arlette currently stood to the side of the bustling street, vehicles that she'd seen in the books from the land of Machine brushing past so close that she stumbled back further to the towering buildings behind her. The world around the ginger haired woman was a sight she'd seen before so many countless times, machinery towered higher than the clouds. Yet as her eyes settled to the gloom around her Arlette remembered said clouds were nothing more than fog created by the steam that pumped from the vents. It thickened the humidity in the air, snaking around her quaking form headless to her building anxiety. It only took her a few moments to recall why the people around her had donned masks as each breath inhaled drew that smog deep into her lungs. Gradually she was tortured by the sensation as her lungs began to fill with it.
Yet still Arlette could not bring herself to move, eyes latching on to each piece of scenery from the large iron lamplight's to the cobblestone street beneath her feet. Gone were the lush vegetation and jades of her store, the air that was so fresh that each breath instilled her with energy. It was replaced with building after building of the dullest greys and browns. Rust coating some of the churning cogs of exposed machines that she couldn't begin to comprehend. The small copper flecks peeled and fell with each timed movement, dusting the ground beneath her feet.
Arlette resisted that part of her mind that already knew this scenery, the part that found it as familiar as her favourite comb. The familiarity did not encourage relief, instead she could feel her stomach churning as her chest constricted further. Panic was settling in at last, the memory of similar situations dawning on her as each tortuous breath made her vision cloud.
Her coral hair whipped around her face as she stumbled, a hand clutching her chest as the clanking of metal against metal ground out in her ears. The lashes of her eyes fluttering, her head feeling lighter than a feather. She was starting to hyperventilate. As if this dream progressed like any of the others, then surely she'd have to experience death once more.
Thrust into this same street night after forsaken night had taught Arlette all she had come to fear. She could recall the pain of running for so long her stomach had emptied itself, the pure fear as that presence had never been far behind. All too many times for her liking had she felt the sharp burning of a blade sheathed in her abdomen. The crushing sensation of her lungs collapsing as firm, steady hands constricted around her throat. The blinding pain of being dragged by her hair and lifted off the ground, and the warmth of her own blood spilling down her chest.
To say that there were many more horrendous deaths would be an understatement, yet she cared not to recall them. Her dimming vision flicked fearfully through the crowd, searching for searing eye's a more malicious shade of ruby than the dried blood under her nails. Because like all the other dreams the owner of said eyes must be nearby, she wonders for the dozenth time if she could hide from the man's seemingly alseeing gaze. Such thoughts were really the only sanity she could find as she stumbles. This particular street was unknown to her unlike how some others had come to be. So where was she supposed to go? In this unfamiliar place, there was an alley to her left that had well timed gears coming out through the walls every so often. Or the road to her right, where she ran the risk of those clanking machine's flattening her to the cobbled street.
Impulsively Arlette heads to the left, dashing through the gaps in the timed movements of the cogs as she keeps her gaze ever moving. She had to stay aware, only once had she made it through the entire dream without dying. It was not impossible, she thinks because of that. None-the-less she also knows how unlikely it was. Pale hands bracing herself against the course brick walls as she turns left and right down progressively narrower alleys the ginger feels that tightening of her chest once more. She could barely breathe in this smog, but that wasn't what caused the pain.
No this pain was one she'd come to know, it meant that man was nearby, that he would find her.
There is no hesitation in her step now as she turns, sprinting back the direction she'd come, left then right, then right again out onto the cobblestone street. Carriages rushed by and a dream not forgotten reminds her of the feeling of being hit by one. But it doesn't stop Arlette, looking quickly in both directions of the street she dashes across, bare feet stinging as the small stones dig into her soles with each frantic step. Miraculously making it to the other side of the bustling road Arlette spins. The tightness hadn't faded.
Where was he? From what direction was he pursuing her. It's not hard to find him, the man who always found her in these dreams. His silver hair that was speckled with rust, the mask on his face that only covered his nose and mouth and came to a point like a birds beak. He's there, on the other side of the street, chest heaving as he too had been running. Those crimson eyes stare at her through the goggles protecting his face and promise death. Arlette also sees that familiar tiredness in them, but no more does she see the reluctance she once did.
When these dreams had begun they'd both been barely teenagers, he had pursue and killed her before she could even register that she should run. There were times of course, that Arlette had begged him to spare her, pleaded for her life even if she knew she would wake in her plush bed only moments after. The pain of dying was not something she'd wanted to experience over and over again. It was to the point some nights she climbed these tall, tall buildings and waited for him to come push her off.
Now however wasn't the time for reminiscing, her eyes catch the glint of the blade as the man begins to unsheath it. It kickstarts her heart once more, spinning on her heals as she flees into the alleys once more. Dodging randomly around corners and pushing the blurry faced people from her path when they got in her way. Running for what felt like hours she finds herself collapsing in a darkened alley. So dark in fact she could barely see her own two hands in front of her face.
Chest heaving as she gasps for air Arlette leans heavily on the brick walls behind her back, hands moving to cover her mouth as she curls up as small as she can. Just a short rest, just a moment was all she needed. As she feels her breath returning to her Arlette forces herself to stand on her legs that feel like jell beneath her body. She couldn't hear his steps over the sound of her pounding heart. So when that blade presses against her damp throat Arlette gives a startled cry. Hands wanting to fly up, to push it away, are immediately stilled as a single arm wraps around her body. Pinning her own arms to her sides he can feel his raggard breath on her skin as he presses down harder for a moment.
"Don't come"
He says, those two words among the few things she'd ever heard him say as that blade rips through her skin. Crying out Arlette struggles, the pain striking through her like fire before she starts to go limp in that hold. Warmth draining from her limbs as it pours out onto her chest and the arm still holding her up. Slowly they both sink to the ground, Arlette feels the way her own heart struggles to pump the blood she needs. Vision getting dimmer the last thing she feels is those fingers slowly closing her eyes.
…
Jolting up in her bed shivering and gasping for air Arlette's hand trembles as it presses to her throat. Eyes damp with tears as she struggles to ground herself once more. Sunlight was barely entering her room now, not even the birds were singing yet. So the silence is broken as a sob wracks through her body and both her hands move to wipe at her stinging eyes.
She felt physically drained, like after every dream, as if she had really been running for her life. The mental strain was so strong that she honestly couldn't bring herself to leave her bed as she fell back into it. Curling up into a small ball as she cries to herself and prays to whoever could help her that she'd never have such a dream again. Those words, as always repeat in her mind as she swears to herself over and over, she'd never go to the land of Machine, she'd never meet that man.
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