she lay back against her feather-down, egyptian-cotton covered pillows. she went nowhere without them. they were her asset for real beauty sleep. her aunt isolde had brought them for her on her last visit. they had been covered in bits of crumpled leaves and emitted the aroma of what seemed to be spearmint. aunt isolde dabbled. she was interested in several things. she studied things that seemed silly and unimportant to the rest of the family. she knew lost languages, herbal mixing secrets, and stories galore. she knew not of things that would help her to pass the american citizen test, but of things she would say were of great more importance. "things about the history of life itself", she would say, "magic." she had pulled chloe aside and explained why these pillows were so special. "they bring powerful sleep, my dear. they will enchant your mind into rest so that with only a few hours of sleep you will awaken refreshed." she smiled and her eyes glittered in the candlelight. "sleep is something you shall need in the days to come. our princess must be refresed at a moments notice." she laughed and chloe giggled along with her. even at her age, it was sometimes nice to be called a princess. she knew aunt isolde meant 'our princess' and in the families and not some distant land she were meant to rule. aunt isolde was different, but certaintly not that ridiculous.

she sighed and closed her eyes gently, totally relaxed. as the house fell silent once again, chloe was a ble to detect a faint disturbance. something irregular in the familiar sounds of the house. suddenly she remembered what she had been doing when the phone rang. she had been about to open the closet to fix that silly toy. it must have been the old dog with the pull string that sang about the puppy in the window. the sound seemed to be composed of a gentle, relaxed melpdy. so subtle it seemed as if your mind were playing tricks and turning the silence into music. it was terribly quite and beautiful and wrong all at once. chloe could stand it no longer and wrenched back the door. nothing moved. the sound was gone. chloe was mystified. she strained her ears until a buzzing began. had she made up the sound to begin with? was she going crazy? her mind was flipping possibilites. she liked none until she remembered that she wasnt feeling well. thats why she had stayed home in the first place. she needed sleep. good special pillow sleep. she smiled and headed for the bed, forgetting to shut the closet door behind her. she lie down, suddenly exhausted. a yawn halfway escaped her lips only to turn to a snore. she was out.

she dreamt. dreams that she had no idea her imagination had the ability to put into thought. her aunts stories became one vivid slide show to the next. she saw things she hadnt thought of in years. things that at first confused her. she saw petite women with pointed ears and wings, short men with smiling faces, castles with moats, and beutiful creatures she could not name. she saw women and men in cloaks at a table. the slides slowed and the beauty faded. things lovely creatures turned dark and grotesque. things no horrow film could have capture the evil of. she became frightened and fought to shield herself from these terrible sights, but even when she closed her eyes the images lingered in her mind's eye. the last picture was one of a withered rose. a black rose.