AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I have awoken at a reasonable hour, stuck indefinitely on teacher morning body clock, which means sleeping in is a fantasy concept—quite apparently—more “out there” than the fae themselves.
Staring at the ceiling, I languish in the exhaustion that feels like it will never go away.
Maybe, if I can get away with it, I’ll feign an illness and stay here until Monday when a miracle cure lets me return to school on time and not need to make up any school days.
After all, I have this month’s field trip, holiday decorations, testing, and the Christmas party to prepare for. I cannot be a slug while plotting the holiday cheer that allows my littles to make it through their state assessments. I have to pull out.
Alas.
My ceiling remains so very interesting.
Chai’s purring on my stomach means I can’t move anyway.
So.
You know.
This is where I die.
At least if I die, everything I care about is somebody else’s problem.
I trace patterns in the popcorn ceiling and debate trying to fall back asleep. Last time I met Pollux in the dream plane, he said I summoned him. I could try to do it again.
Narrowing my eyes on the white constellations above my ceiling fan, I contemplate just absolutely yoinking him from his breakfast table. Assuming, of course, he is eating breakfast. My parents haven’t gotten up yet, so it’s still really early. Possibly too early for breakfast. Potentially still early enough for hunting.
Which may be a kind of breakfast?
I don’t know the rules for being a fear vampire.
Maybe the fear replaces one meal, but they still need others throughout the day?
It seems like they need sleep, so hunting must be an active wakefulness for them even if it brings them through the dream plane.
Science suggests that most dreams last between five to twenty minutes, even though they always seem longer.
If time warps in the dream plane, how long do Pollux’s and Andromeda’s days feel?
I have so many questions.
It feels like they’re bursting from the seams of my mind.
And, yet, I’ve barely scratched the surface. These aren’t even my questions about Faerie. They are just the ones related to dream eaters.
Like.
Why are they called that?
If they eat fear, not dreams, why dream eater? Kinda illogical if you ask me.
My phone buzzes in rhythm on the small table beside my bed, and I tilt my head, looking at the screen. It’s an unknown number, but it’s a local area code. Possibly a parent? At this hour? On break?
Reaching lamely, I continue petting Chai’s head and put on my I’m a real person and wide awake and responsible and always am and always will be voice. Which involves smiling. Because science suggests people can hear when you aren’t smiling, even if they can’t see you. “Hello, Kassandra Role speaking.”
“You’re awake.”
My heart thumps as my smile drops. Pollux.
“I missed the window,” he murmurs.
