There would be dreams tonight. For the boy there were always dreams. Some were vague, their meanings cryptic and hard to define. Others were clear, like sharply cut crystal, like un-muddied waters, so vivid that at times the child found it hard to discern reality from reverie. On occasion he would sleep a dead mans slumber, the dark hours of night drifting by so fast it felt as if he had not closed his eyes at all, though most of the time he would dream. And oh what dreams they were.
A pattern of sky-blue lavender wound its way up the duvet, stopping at his nose, which was pressed snuggly against quilted sheets. Soon his father would come, he would sit on the edge of the bed and tell him a story. His father never read from a book, he would recite these fantastic tales from memory alone, speaking the words as if from experience. So he waited, knowing that soon, any moment now, his father would come.
Lucas was very close to that place of dreams now, where the impossible was commonplace, where he could fly if he wished it, roar like a lion or swim like a fish. Twice his eye’s closed, only to open again a little heavier, edging forward into the dark but blissfully warm abyss of sleep. When would his father be here? Lucas wondered distantly. He couldn’t hold on much longer, he was losing a battle he did not care to win. He wriggled slightly, burying a hand beneath the cool recesses of his pillow. If his father didn’t come soon, the boy would be lost.
“Lucas!” Came a voice from beyond his door. “Lucas, Wake up!”
The boy was suddenly wide awake, he opened his eyes and stared about the room. There was a look of excitement upon his face, half hidden by the duvet.
“Lucas! Wake up son, please!”
The boy looked up to his father. “I’m awake dad. What is it?” He pushed the duvet away and leaned up, resting on his elbow. His room was that of any child, toys lay discarded on the floor, his desk littered with crayon drawings and small plastic soldiers.
His father knelt beside the bed and took his hand. He then did something that caused a fear to rise in the boy. Very slowly, as if submerged in crystal clear water, he looked back to the door. “I don’t have long son, you must listen, and remember.”
“What is it dad, what’s wrong? You’re scaring me.”
“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to, but you must listen.”
Lucas had not been expecting this, he began to shake, uncertain of his fathers troubled face.
“We are in danger Lucas, your mother and I. Something has happened and... I... We.” His father sobbed once and reached out to embrace the boy. Lucas could feel his fathers pulse against his cheek, it was very fast.
“Please dad, what’s wrong?”
“I’m so sorry. I should have told you sooner.” His father looked back to the door again and this time, with a chill that would follow Lucas into adulthood, he heard a scream. It was an unnatural sound, more animal than human, a sound of anger, pain, a scream of great suffering. His father began to stand, thought for a moment, then rested back on his knees and looked to his son.
“Dad, I’m scared.”
“Be brave Lucas, you must be brave. I am going to tell you something, things you must never forget... Secrets.”
“Secrets?”
“Yes Lucas. You must guard them with your life, and never, ever forget.”
The boy looked over his fathers shoulder and out into the bright hallway beyond his bedroom door. Again came that scream, it was louder now, growing closer by degrees.
“Where’s mum, what’s happening?”
“Please Lucas, listen... Bandilloo... Say it Lucas.”
The boys gray eyes, so wide, filled with flecks of green, were fixed upon his bedroom door. He knew that word, Bandilloo. It was a place he had visited many times before, in his dreams. Dreams fuelled by his fathers stories.
“Lucas, look at me! Bandilloo. Say it.”
The boy looked back to his father with heavy silver tears welling at the corner of his eyes. “Band...” He tried.
“Bandilloo.” His father chased.
“Bandilloo.” Lucas felt a shudder with the word.
“Yes! That’s right. The Bandilloo. I’ve told you about it many times, but now it’s place you must find. It won’t be easy, you’ll have to look very hard, but you must never give up. You must find the Bandilloo.”
“I don’t understand.”
Another wretched scream rattled through the door, bringing with it an icy chill that seeped through the sheets of the young boys bed.
“I know Lucas. If there was more time I would have told you everything, there is so much you should know, so many things we missed.” He gulped once and placed a large hand behind the boys head. “Say it again Lucas, one more time.”
“Bandilloo.”
His father smiled. “That’s good, never forget that word son, it will lead you to many places... Now.” He took a deep breath. “There is more, are you ready?”
Lucas had drifted into a numb state of shock, only moments ago he had been preparing for sleep, ready to take his fathers words with him into the world of dreams. He couldn’t help but feel that this was all just another of those stories, another adventure cleverly concocted by his father. Are you ready, his father had asked. Without blinking the boy nodded.
“My stories Lucas, every single one, the castles, the towers, everything.” He braced for a moment before speaking. “They are true Lucas. Bandilloo is their home and they are true.”
The boy tried to shake his head but his father, his hands large and strong held tightly, refusing his son from the easy escape of denial.
“Do you understand Lucas? You don’t have to say anything, just remember. The stories... The place.”
“But... they were just stories dad.” His small face was lit with the soft light that filtered through his doorway, it caused many deep shadows to fall against his features. For a brief moment he looked much older than his 11 years, he looked more like the troubled man he would one day become. “They aren’t true, they can’t be. Can they?” Lucas stared up at the desperate features of his father.
“I have never lied to you son. The stories were my way of showing you what we left behind, like lessons. They are our history. A long time ago me and your mother decided to leave the Bandilloo, we wanted to live normal lives, here, among normal people, we wanted you to grow up without the confusion of such a strange world, so we ran away... We hid.”
The boy knew the truth in this, he could feel it, almost see the words floating from his fathers lips. “Who were you hiding from?”
His father shook his head as if he couldn’t answer, though when he looked back to the door Lucas understood instantly. His mother and father had been hiding from the creature that made that awful scream. They were hiding from a creature that was now in their house. “I can’t tell you now, time is short son. Just say it, once more. Say it and remember.”
“Bandilloo.” The boy whispered, there came another shiver with the word. He was then pulled into a fierce embrace, strong arms shrouding him for the last time. It seemed to last forever this embrace, the boy took solace in this thought for he knew, without actually knowing it seemed, that he would never see his parents again.
“Your mother and I love you very much, you know that, don’t you?”
The boy nodded, those large tears now rolling freely down his cheek. His father pulled away, staring fixedly into his sons eyes. From his pocket he produced an object, which he held forth on a thin strand of leather. It was the paw of a rabbit, though at the time Lucas had so idea of its significance.
“This will help you remember Lucas, every time you think you may forget I want you to hold this. It will keep your memories sharp...” He gave it to the boy. It was warm and smelled of petals. Lucas looked at it for a moment and said that word ‘Bandilloo’ in his mind. It seemed to echo around his head, humming in his ears.
“We will always love you, never forget this. Never forget the Bandilloo or the things that live there. You will find it one day, and when you do, you will know it all... You will be home.” He stroked his sons head slowly, spilling his own tears. “With this Charm you will remember our love Lucas... You will remember the Bandilloo... You will remember every story I ever told you, and keep them safe...” He leaned forward and kissed the boys crown. He then lifted his sons hand to his lips and kissed the rabbit foot.
“You will remember, Lucas... And you will sleep.”
From his fathers palm there grew a light, it flashed softly at first, pulsing as if with a heartbeat. The light soon intensified, trickling between his fingers like water tainted with a thousand glowing particles, bathing the room and the face of his son with a brilliant luminescence. It seeped around the mans wrist, flowing onto the boys cheek and into his mouth and nose. There came no pain from this invasion of light, the boy closed his eyes, or rather, his eyes were made to close by the wavering power his father wielded. Breathing slowly now he was lowered gently down to his pillow and the cover pulled back to that place beneath his nose. Then the man stood, tucking the blanket around his sons head, he turned and walked to the door. Before vanishing forever he turned back and regarded the shape beneath the covers.
“Band... Bandilloo.” The boy muttered from the depths of sleep.
The man smiled and wiped a tear from his eye. He would go to his wife now, and together they would be expunged, leaving the child in a protective state of sleep. The Bile-Mites, ever restless and uncaring would overlook this slumbering boy as if he were not there, the man however would be found with his wife. Together, with the woman he loved they would be strong, the Bile-Mites would unmake them but would gain no pleasure for their efforts.
He left the child and walked down to his wife...
... To his end.
In the silent room the boy stirred but did not wake. Grasped tightly in his small hand was the rabbit foot, which was warm, and smelt of petals. “Bandilloo.” He uttered to his pillow, unaware of the orphan he was soon to become.
An orphan to the Bandilloo.
He would spend the next 22 years of his life thinking about this word. He would write it on scraps of paper, repeat it over and over while he sleeps. When thought of this word will strike vivid images in his mind of a place so extraordinary, so unbelievable, he would be able to see it only in dreams. Life for Lucas would be hard though his views, unlike our own, would hold an entirely different perception.
Lucas Paige would know the truth...
Might I add that from this chapter the reader will jump forward 22 years to Lucas, now sitting in a prison cell sporting a bruised lip and a hangover. He is a gifted but very troubled young man. The story as it gradually unfolds will focus around Lucas trying to find the Bandilloo.
Thank you for your time.