in a transcendent, enlightened glow. This moment, this moment right here, was the very best twenty or so seconds of Abraham Collinsâs life.
It was then that Abraham Collins realized that not only was he dancing rather poorly, but that he could not stop dancing poorlyâor stop dancing at all. Something else had taken him over, thrusting his legs in the air before slamming them back down on sharp stones and prickly burr patches. And as he tried to gaze down to see the state of his feet, he realized something odd: he couldnât look down. It was only then he noticed that Carly didnât look like Carly at all.
The drugs werenât wearing off, but he was beginning to see through them. This wasnât Carly; this wasnât anyone resembling Carly. Sure, she was lithe and beautiful, but it wasnât her.
No, this girl was different. A waifishly thin goddess with a ballerinaâs body and a virginal face pristine with innocence; she shone in the moonlight like a ghostly angel, wisps of magic misting off her as she moved. Her movements blurred, blending togetherâa liberal mix of her speed, the shadows, and the psilocybin coursing through his veins. He couldnât take his eyes off her, not for a moment. Not even to look at where he was dancing. The fog of the high was lifting ever so slowly, but for some reason he was no longer in control of his own feet.
âDo you love me?â she whispered.
âYes,â he answered without thinking. He wasnât sure why.
âWill you love me forever?â
âYes,â he answered again without hesitation. âI will love you as long as forever and more.â
âThen I will see you at the bottom.â
It was then and only then that Abe saw that his feet were no longer touching the ground. He was floatingâthe earth a hundred feet below. He hadnât flown or ascended in any way; rather he had danced past the rock he had once reclined upon and found his way over the cliff. Abraham was falling, his velocity far outracing the slow speed at which he could take it all in. In his head, it might have taken an hour to hit the ground. But to the watching fairies, the moon and the stars still swirling around it, it took but seconds for Abraham Collins to plummet to the rocks below, and even less time for his legs to fracture and splinter beneath him as he impacted with the force of a speeding truck.
It would have been best had he blacked out, had he not felt every painful snap and shattering bone. Unfortunately, even at the end of his life, Abraham Collins couldnât catch a break.
Â
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
O N THE P SYCHOLOGY OF F OREST B OGIES
An excerpt by Dr. Thaddeus Ray , Ph.D., from his book A Chronicle of the Dreamfolk
The chief problem in dealing with forest bogies is their complete and total lack of self-awareness. While they are unconsciously driven to certain behavior, they may not understand why, or even desire the outcome they will inevitably achieve. This is the unfortunate conundrum of many bogiesâ existence. Not everything that causes harm sets out with that intent. Sometimes their motives are far more profound or lofty.
This is not meant in any way as a defense of the bogey. While not all of them are innately and intentionally evil, many are. Take for example the Buber. A Buber is a vicious, mean-spirited, shape-changing beast (often appearing in the guise of an old woman or an elderly man with a long gray beard) without an ounce of humanity anywhere in its hideous form. It will kiss a sleeping human being and consume its life force before slipping into its body and possessing it. Once it has consumed every last ounce of a person and done all the evil it can, it leaves behind the empty, lifeless husk with white, colorless eyes the only sign of possession. Bubers are dedicated purely to evil.
On the other hand, by all accounts Aufhockers are friendly, mischievous spirits known for their proclivity for jumping
It was then that Abraham Collins realized that not only was he dancing rather poorly, but that he could not stop dancing poorlyâor stop dancing at all. Something else had taken him over, thrusting his legs in the air before slamming them back down on sharp stones and prickly burr patches. And as he tried to gaze down to see the state of his feet, he realized something odd: he couldnât look down. It was only then he noticed that Carly didnât look like Carly at all.
The drugs werenât wearing off, but he was beginning to see through them. This wasnât Carly; this wasnât anyone resembling Carly. Sure, she was lithe and beautiful, but it wasnât her.
No, this girl was different. A waifishly thin goddess with a ballerinaâs body and a virginal face pristine with innocence; she shone in the moonlight like a ghostly angel, wisps of magic misting off her as she moved. Her movements blurred, blending togetherâa liberal mix of her speed, the shadows, and the psilocybin coursing through his veins. He couldnât take his eyes off her, not for a moment. Not even to look at where he was dancing. The fog of the high was lifting ever so slowly, but for some reason he was no longer in control of his own feet.
âDo you love me?â she whispered.
âYes,â he answered without thinking. He wasnât sure why.
âWill you love me forever?â
âYes,â he answered again without hesitation. âI will love you as long as forever and more.â
âThen I will see you at the bottom.â
It was then and only then that Abe saw that his feet were no longer touching the ground. He was floatingâthe earth a hundred feet below. He hadnât flown or ascended in any way; rather he had danced past the rock he had once reclined upon and found his way over the cliff. Abraham was falling, his velocity far outracing the slow speed at which he could take it all in. In his head, it might have taken an hour to hit the ground. But to the watching fairies, the moon and the stars still swirling around it, it took but seconds for Abraham Collins to plummet to the rocks below, and even less time for his legs to fracture and splinter beneath him as he impacted with the force of a speeding truck.
It would have been best had he blacked out, had he not felt every painful snap and shattering bone. Unfortunately, even at the end of his life, Abraham Collins couldnât catch a break.
Â
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
O N THE P SYCHOLOGY OF F OREST B OGIES
An excerpt by Dr. Thaddeus Ray , Ph.D., from his book A Chronicle of the Dreamfolk
The chief problem in dealing with forest bogies is their complete and total lack of self-awareness. While they are unconsciously driven to certain behavior, they may not understand why, or even desire the outcome they will inevitably achieve. This is the unfortunate conundrum of many bogiesâ existence. Not everything that causes harm sets out with that intent. Sometimes their motives are far more profound or lofty.
This is not meant in any way as a defense of the bogey. While not all of them are innately and intentionally evil, many are. Take for example the Buber. A Buber is a vicious, mean-spirited, shape-changing beast (often appearing in the guise of an old woman or an elderly man with a long gray beard) without an ounce of humanity anywhere in its hideous form. It will kiss a sleeping human being and consume its life force before slipping into its body and possessing it. Once it has consumed every last ounce of a person and done all the evil it can, it leaves behind the empty, lifeless husk with white, colorless eyes the only sign of possession. Bubers are dedicated purely to evil.
On the other hand, by all accounts Aufhockers are friendly, mischievous spirits known for their proclivity for jumping
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