All Are Gone

Morgan woke with a start, swea pouring down his drenched t-shirt. What had happened? Where was he? The sun began peeking through the drapes and he realized that it was morning. The night was over, finished. He breathed a sigh of relief.

He'd never been one to be plagued by nightmares. Even as a child his friends had their parents check for monsters under their beds or in their closets, but the thought never bothered him. He would go and hide away in their rooms when he spent the night and when they were just about asleep he would knock something over or make a funny noise. Their reaction was always loud and terrified, he found it hilarious. Not so much anymore. For the past few months he had been haunted by dreams. Nightmares. Terrors that caused him to stay up as late as possible. He had seriously considered buying stock in energy drinks and coffee because he did everything he could to stay awake. He would exhaust himself so that when he slept he would go past dreaming and into that sweet, black, nothingness where worries and subconcious could do no harm.

Every time he closed his eyes one of his favorite memories would float its way to the surface of his mind. It was always different, never the exact same dream twice. Once when he was five his big brother stayed home from work to play with him all day. They went to the park, to the fair, to the museum. At first it was like a regular recollection, but then it began to change. The temperature would rise and suddenly the places they were going were empty. He turned to ask his brother where everyone went and when he looked towards him, he was gone. Then the lights would come. If it wasn't as terrifying, the lights would remind him of fireflies, but they weren't the good ones. They grabbed at him, poked, prodded, tore at him with invisible claws and teeth. He called and cried but there was no one in the whole world to hear him. He was alone. The memories differed every night, sometimes his mother, vague recollections of his father, his coworkers, his friends from high school, always different. His mind would play the memory and then it would suddenly change. Sometimes it was the fireflies. Sometimes it was fire. Sometimes it was just fading away, knowing that he was alone in the world. He was always eager for the sun to rise.

Now he wiped the sweat from his face and stretched. He shrugged off the memory of his grandfather and walked to the closet to change. He put on his running shorts, stripped his shirt, donned his Nikes and headed to the street. The pavement always calmed him- it was firm, stable, constant. It wouldn't disappear. As he ran he waved to his congenial neighbors but something seemed different today. Maybe it was foggy, but the people on the street seemed kind of faded, whited out almost. His heart began pounding and it had little to do with the few blocks he had managed to run. He looked back and saw them- fireflies.