Coming Soon

Knowing that she was dreaming again didn’t make it any easier. The dreams always followed such a similar pattern. The shifting between dozens of perspectives was always the same, as though she were viewing the scenes through the eyes of many people. Sometimes she felt the flickers of different emotions as she flitted from watcher to watcher. Some of the watchers were terrified, others burnt with rage and some, the most frightening of all, were filled with an excitement that was almost gleeful. The fear and anger were easy for her to understand but the bizarre delight was easily the most horrible sensation, especially knowing how the dream would end.

This dream started in the way that they usually did. There was a trial taking place. The building was filled with people and the constantly changing view was confusing. There were wooden beams and a fire was burning. It could have been any country tavern. She found herself reminded of the Queen’s Oak but she could not imagine such scenes occurring there. She tried to leave the dream and think, instead, of the times she had spent at the Oak. It was all futile. The dream had to proceed. There would be no escape into reveries of calm and comfort.

There were people in chains and others whose hands were bound in ropes. She thought that there were about ten people but it was hard to count them in the disorder of the dream. They were mostly old people, both women and men. There was, though, a girl of about fifteen. She looked utterly terrified. Something about her face suggested that she had no understanding of what was happening. When she cried out, there were no words. She could not hear the accusations against her. When the dream shifted to the girl’s perspective, there was stifling silence. She was deaf.

The trial was led by a lean man with a stern, ringing voice. The people cheered at his pronouncements. He spoke of sin and punishment. He was convinced that the prisoners had committed terrible crimes. The Plague was their doing. They had brought a sickness of the soul to the town and a sickness of the body had followed. The town must be purged!

The words stirred the crowd that watched. Some felt a deep fury, a desire to leap at the man and beat the mouth that spoke such lies. There were guards, though, terrible guards. It was well known what would happen to anyone who allowed their fury to drive them into action. The men in the masks would step forward. Those long coats and those ridiculous, bird-like masks. Rings of bright brass shone around the glass eyes of the bird-masks. Those masks should have been hilarious and foolish but nobody dared to laugh. The masked men wore wide-brimmed hats and great-coats of dark brown, greasy leather. No inch of their skin showed. They seemed like birds of prey that had grown into men. They were the Plague Doctors.

Others in the crowd heard the words and were afraid. Could the Great Judge see their own secrets? Did he truly know all? Their own magics had been so small! Surely such old traditions could not be sinful. Was it wicked to mutter words over the forge? Was it devilish to tie the corn dolly and bury it in the field? Best to keep quiet. Ask no questions. The ringing words of the Great Judge would not find them. They would keep quiet or it might be them in chains. It could be them. It could be their families.

Then there were the gleeful ones. The old woman had always given them that look. The sly look! Now she was paying! The pigs fell ill after the old woman had given her sly look. That was the sin! That was the old woman sinning! Now she would pay! The dumb girl was a sure sign of wickedness. Only wicked parents would have a child that couldn’t speak! Their wickedness had made a wicked child! Now they would all get what was coming to them!

She wanted to scream at the crowd. She wanted to tell them not to fear the Plague Doctors and the Great Judge. She wanted to stoke their anger and make them free their neighbours. It was clearly wrong. Anyone could see that it was all wrong! Why didn’t anyone make it stop? She tried to scream but no lips would obey her. The crowd would not speak her words.

They were moving outside now.

The worst was yet to come.

A village green. Just like so many others in Albion. It was like the green in Rosetown. There were bonfires, standing ready. There should be dancing and cider. Bonfires should be happy. Let the dream be a happy one! Let it stop and change and let there be laughter and dancing.

There was no laughter. There was a terrible screaming. The crowd screamed and the prisoners screamed and the Great Judge’s voice rang above it all. He spoke of purging. He spoke of sin. He spoke of fire.

It was enough, she thought to herself. She had seen enough! The dream had made its point. She knew that the world was a terrible place! She had learnt the lesson and did not need to learn it again!

The prisoners were struggling but the eager ones of the crowd were many and the Plague Doctors were strong. Great stakes of wood stood at the centre of each bonfire. The deaf girl stared up at the stars as though they might fall down and grant her mercy. The stars remained looking down, cold and hard in the black night. The stars looked down and nobody came to save her.

One of the crowd stepped forward, crying out that it must not be done. He was quickly silenced by his family. His wife dragged him back. She hissed at him in urgent whispers, reminding him of his own children. The Plague Doctors had stopped to stare at him with their eyes of crystal and brass. Their strong, gloved hands were ready to clutch and bind. There was room for another on the bonfires. The angry man, his face pale and his lips set into a hard line, stepped back and away. He knew right from wrong but he could think only of his family. The Plague Doctors watched in silence as the angry man bowed his head. Then they returned, silently, to their task.

The chants of the crowd and the wails of the prisoners rose higher as the first flames were set to the kindling.

The chant thumped like a foul heart beat. “Burn ‘em! Burn ‘em! Burn ‘em!” was screamed and howled into the night by many voices. The few that dared to stay silent made sure that they did not stand in sight of the Great Judge or his terrible bird-faced watchers. Flames twinkled on the lenses of the absurd masks. The chant was the beating heart of something terrible. A great horror, a dark monster that had many faces.

She wished that she could stop whirling from person to person, mind to mind. She did not want to feel the pain of the flames. Nor did she want to taste the sharp madness of those that chanted. Their throats hurt with screaming and their heads throbbed with hatred. She could not understand where such deep hate could come from.

The flames were rising into the night. Sparks spiralled upwards towards the disinterested stars. The screams of the prisoners grew louder and more shrill. They begged and pleaded. Others spat curses and abuse. The deaf girl wailed without words.

Watching this horror, just as she had watched it before, the dreamer felt tears trickling down her cheeks. For a moment, she was not one of the crowd. She was herself. She looked down and saw her pale night gown. She shivered at the chill of the January air. In all the previous dreams she had been trapped in the minds of the crowd. This time she was amongst them. Perhaps she could finally stop the horror!

She looked across the crowd and saw that the Plague Doctors were staring at her. They could see her. The rest of the crowd watched the burning bonfires but the leather faces of the dark birds were turned towards her.

With a sharp tug, she felt herself falling from a great height. She was in complete blackness for a moment, wrapped in a blanket of blissful dark. Then she was confronted by a hideous face. The face was grey and infantile. It was almost the face of a baby but the eyes were yellow, feline and wicked.

“Wake up!” shouted the foul grey face.

She screamed.