The nightmares. Some kept coming back. Like the one with the little boy and his black dog, his face melting as the dog snarled. And the one with the goblin armed with his pile of gifts, tempting children who were never seen again.
She woke tangled in sweat-drenched sheets, carrying the horrors with her like stones in her shoes.
On the rare occasions when she dreamt of flying, she would wake up breathless with the urge to grasp their remains with both hands.
She wished she could hold on to them, but they slipped through her fingers like silk.
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