Nightmares - The Dream

-The Dream-
A single flickering flame upon a lone wooden bench illuminated the black room faintly. Inside those walls, it was cold, dark and bare, besides a velvet rug dyed scarlet. Silent was the space between the stone, save for the eerie howling of a savage wind outside, a wind that echoed through the night like a wicked phantom’s call. Suddenly piercing the atmosphere, high-pitched shrieks and desperate cries rang out against the walls and spilled from the windows of the primitive stone castle. A sharp thud stunned the rocks; and a body was hurled to the ground. A little shadow began to weep.
"Please! Please, don't hurt me!"
The sobbing continued, as the young boy raised his weary face in fear, hair disheveled and skin dampened from the brutal rain outside. Another figure stood just in front of the window, the blue moon light etching his shadow onto the floor. It was a tall, lean body wrapped in midnight coats and cold silver armor. The child upon the rug clasped together his fingers and pleaded.
"Please, spare my life!"
After the resonance of the shrill voice had faded, all was silent. A chilling current of air spread inward, causing a choppy flicker in the dimming candle. Of a mere seven years, the child was naive to the ways of the world and being suddenly thrown exposed to some of man’s darkest fears, he could hardly bear it. He wanted to scream, but couldn't. He forced himself to swallow his fright and speak coolly.
"Sir... will you not answer me?"
That glaring figure stood motionless no longer, for the man's right arm rose slightly, creating a sound of metallic friction. The child drew in a sharp breath as he watched a glistening piece of steel emerge from the side of the dark body and rise high into the air. A harsh flash of light burst from the clouds, and the grand silver sword shimmered. The ominous storm washed salty rain and icy wind through every corner of the room as another shock of light exploded. The figure's robes whipped back and forth in the wind. The boy's tiny hands clenched the only material in his grasp, the velvet rug, as he sobbed out loud. The storm had burst into the room and enveloped him. He could feel the evil man's stare, and without looking back up he could perceive that crystal sword swinging downwards onto his back...

"NO!!!!!" Renth shot upwards with a start, immediately upright. Droplets of cold sweat trickled silently down the child's forehead, the brown husk blanket clinging to the lower half of his body. With eyes wide open in the dark, he clutched his own chest as he gasped to catch his breath. What a haunting experience... had it been real?
A gentle stroke of air entered through the window, removing the stiff night smell from his tiny room. His pulse eventually returning to normal, the boy took a peek at the midnight sky. Just beside the oak tree, a glowing moon was soft and amethyst, complemented by tiny diamond stars against the deep blue beyond. Such scenery created a sparkle in his innocent eyes. Renth let out a sign of relief and plopped back down onto his straw pillow. He was still alive, and perfectly unharmed. It all must have been a dream. Quivering slightly, he pulled that old blanket around his head like a hood and cuddled up into a tight little ball upon the sagging mattress. Hazel eyes drifting shut, little Renth decided that it might be safe to return to sleep again. For tonight, anyhow.