I played for a while with their soft strands of dark hair, perfumed with bourbon and incense, as sweet music came out from the object called, in many places of our Universe, a radio.

I let my eyes get filled by their figure laying next to me, from their porcelain skin marked by a few red scratches. 

I wonder how many artists could their body has inspired. I only had been able to use colours I could have painted that moment, but I settled for impressing it in my own essence.

Stars shined in that scorching night, the memory of the sticky hotness loomed over our window, cooled down by planet Gho-viya's refreshing stones.

I closed my eyes with his taste still lingering on my mouth, concentrating on the breath of my stunts' partner, who let sleep cradle them before me.

I embraced that alluring idea too and, as a last gesture, as my muscles relaxed under the silken blankets that caressed our skin, I brought my arm around Morton's waist.

I like to think that when an entity is asleep, part of their "I" dissociates and goes by itself to visit other realities and creates, director for a few hours, something deserving of being told through misty images.

That night I created a story made of soft solid clouds, where one could lay admiring the crystalline sweep of golden water underneath. Rests of a submerged empire adorned by fleeting beings took part in that romantic picture, captivating my attention.

I slowly descended from the clouds, ending up in that liquid gold. My feet brushed against the surface of the submerged stairs, ending my descent towards that hidden world, a faraway echo of my memory.

In a moment I found myself in the cool room, but this time it wasn't the sweet perfume of my partner's hair that was filling the air.

Something slimy, that smelled like iron, was lingering over my side of the bed and I, with my eyes still closed, I noticed that the body that I was touching with my arm was getting colder.

It was as if my lungs had emptied of air, frightened by a dark thought that was gradually becoming real. I turned abruptly, finding the courage to look: gasping on their side, Morton was leaking copious blood from their back. I moved him gently and saw with horror a wound carved into the flesh, deep to the bone that formed an overturned V.

My head was as empty as my chest was just before, hungry for air I brought my hands over that disfigurement, calling their name.

"Answer me please, call me again, please" I remember pleading as my healing magic failed over and over again; the sense of helplessness made its way into my limbs.

I screamed louder as if it made me feel better, my broken voice sounded distant, muffled with pain, mutating into something that didn't belong to me, into a masculine tone that I didn't know.

The music was no longer accompanying that evening, the stars did not shine in the sky, the walls became narrower and narrower and the Burgundy spot wider and wider.

Distant whispers began pouring from the walls, staining everything with their terrible message. They became more and more present, higher and higher, until they merged in unison, translating the warning into a single language: "You cannot save them, their fate is sealed. You are too weak to snatch them from the repeating destiny."

At first, I tried to ignore them, to ignore the pain in my chest that was now overflowing from my eyes. But they were so insistent, my voice was no longer mine and what I had most dear was going to ...

With a last scream, I broke the chant, invoking that name once again, with all that my lungs could offer for fuel.

The darkness turned thick and black. On the radio, the story of a bright star resounded, told in the embracing words of those who know what loneliness is. My chest filled with oxygen.

I wasn't drowned in the dark.

A few annoyed murmurs rose from my side, making my heart frozen with fear beat once again.

I watched that frowning dreamer rise up from the blankets while putting a hand over my own mouth, forcing myself to get back in touch with reality.

Still shaken by those visions, I gently tried to get up from my bed without making a sound, softly kissing Morton's shoulder before approaching the window.

I waited for the blue on the horizon to turn pink, the restlessness left me more slowly than I had expected.

I kept thinking about that nightmare, what meaning it could have if it ever had one.

Whose voice was it that had replaced mine? Why was it so ... Real?