FifthColumn's Curse of Strahd
I dreamt of a woman, older but handsome
wrapped in jewelry like she’d been swaddled with it
She lay in bed, beside her a mannequin
bats and ravens swarmed overhead, I lost track of which was which
All the while, a faceless figure in a bridal gown loomed
Its shadow stretched across the slumbering “couple”
I dreamt I was in a cradle, gently rocking back and forth
Above my head, in soft candle-glow, paper ravens on wires circled and someone sang a lullaby
All will be well, all will be well
But then the ravens flashed into flame, the ceiling turned to sky and a dark star swallowed all the light
My cradle shook. I toppled and tumbled. Slimy green hands grasped at me and dragged me in all directions at once.
The dark star spoke: All is not well.
I dreamt that the mists swirled about me
Through them I could see only flitting shadows and the flash of eyes, teeth
All of a sudden, the clip of hooves, a creak of wagon wheels, clattering over stone
A carriage approached, cut the fog like a blade.
The coursers which pulled it were foul and dead.
Patches of moth-eaten fur broken to reveal rot on ribs
Green-black eyes dull and unblinking
The vehicle stopped. The door opened.
I told my legs to run away, but they propelled me closer
I told my arms to draw steel but they stretched before me in welcome
I told my throat to scream but it presented itself, bare, to the unseen beast.
The figure materialized within
A swirl of darkness congealed into the shape of a man.
Fingers curled about the doorframe. The thing leaned forward.
Rows of animal’s teeth smiled from the mouth and fresh gore stained the chin and chest
But there was no mistaking
My own face stared back at me.