This is an example of Bastien’s night terrors and could be very upsetting to some readers. The triggers are blood, gore, terror, piranhas, self-harm, vomiting, and PTSD. Proceed with caution.))
The navy-haired boy tossed and turned, sweating profusely as he thrashed about in the bed. It was three in the morning, and everyone was peacefully sleeping, save for the flailing boy. He was trapped within the bounds of a recurring memory, one he stowed away so far back in mind that it could only resurface under the guise of sleep.
—-
He was standing amongst a crowd of thousands, marveling at the man on stage. He dazzled and inspired, his tricks as close to real magic as one could ever attain. Sparks filled the air, objects were floating about, swinging in a steady rhythm. This man was the on who Bastien aspired to be like, the one that flared his passion for magic and illusions. This was none other than the great Allistair O’Shay, the magician known across the world as the master of his craft.
The man then snapped his fingers and the objects graceful landed on the stage, setting up to make a table for two. The tablecloth neatly draped over the table, and a vase landed atop it, filling with water whilst a single rose plinked into the vase. the crowd clapped wildly, astonished by such precision.
Bastien watched, his eyes glistening like emeralds. He was no more than ten years old, and as he watched his father perform, he found himself so entranced that he believed anything could be possible. If someone told him the sky was purple, he would simply nod and agree with such a statement. If he looked up and saw the ever blue sky, he’d simply shrug and say “It may be now, but Allistair wanted to, he could make the sky any color there is.”
He idolized the man, seeing him as one who could bend the world to his whims, though he used his talents only to spread joy and entertainment. When he was not on the stage of the grandest theaters, he was performing in the park, allowing even the most common of folk to witness a free display of enchantment.
The show was then coming to a close. It was time for Allistair to perform his most impressive of tricks, one Bastien had seen dozens of times before, and it always was what truly ignited the crowd into thunderous cheers and applause. He loved seeing the astonishment and awe of those around him, feeling proud by association with the great magician.
Allistair paced under the spotlight as his stagehands brought out a large tank of water. It was made of glass and gave a 360 degree view. Above it, there was a separate tank, full of famished piranhas. The crowd looked shocked to see such a set up, eager to see what the man would do.
“And now, I will close this performance with my most popular trick. I will be put into this tank with forty-five seconds to escape. After forty-five seconds, one hundred hungry piranhas will be released upon me! And just to add a bit of spice to this, both my arms and legs will be handcuffed to make for a healthy challenge.” he declared, and the crowd gasped in shock. They were on the edge of their seats as Allistair climbed up the ladder to the tank. He stood on the edge while his stagehands handcuffed his wrists together, then his ankles.
He then plunged into the water, and a clock began ticking down.
45…44…43…42…41…
He worked quickly, expertly working with the cuffs around his wrists first.
40…39…38…37…36..35…
Within ten seconds, the handcuffs were full removed, sinking to the bottom of the tank. the crowd whooped and hollered, cheering on the man.
34…33…32…31…30…29…
He now set to work on the ankle cuffs as he always did. He fiddled with them, using his now free hands.
28…27…26…25…24…23…
He continued to tug and work at the ankle cuffs. Bastien looked at the clock. This was odd. He almost always finished with precisely twenty-six seconds to spare. Although he didn’t realize it at first, a feeling of discomfort began to settle in his stomach.
22…21…20…19…18…17…
Allistair was still trying to get out of the ankle cuffs. The older man began to look worried, which cause Bastien to fret as well. This isn’t how the act went. Something was wrong. Very wrong.
16…15…14…13…12..11…
The older magician then looked up, banging on the glass of the tank. The crowd thought this was part of the act, and continued to cheer and shout for him. What a magician he was, to raise such tension and put on such theatrics! The stagehands’ eyes widened. They knew this wasn’t part of the act.
10…9…8…7…6…5…
They rushed over, racing against the clock with hearts pounding rapidly.
4…
Allistair tried to swim to the top of the tank, though the heavy cuffs weighed him down.
3…
An assistant climbed up the ladder to the tank. If she could just get up there, she could stop the second tank from opening.
2…
Allistair looked out into the crowd with horror. They then began to realize something was wrong. They all fell silent, a room full of thousands of people quiet enough to hear the drop of a needle.
1…
The assistant couldn’t reach for the valve.
0…
The timer blared out.
The tank opened and a rain of vicious creatures poured into the water below.
Time seemed to slow in that moment, and amidst the silent, Bastien cried out uncontrollably.
“DAD!” he called out, suddenly getting up and sprinting towards the stage. People watched in stunned silence, not knowing what to do.
As the black-haired boy neared the stage, he suddenly halted.
The piranhas did their job, and began to consume the human in their proximity.
Blood began to diffuse into the water, giving it a cloudy red look. Tattered clothing scraps floated through the tainted water.
Bastien felt the knot in his stomach tighten, and suddenly began at convulse at the sight. He doubled over, vomiting onto the floor in disgust and fear. The people in the front row didn’t know where to look. To that sickened boy or the horrific scene playing out before them.
Bastien glanced up, though his vision was blurred through the tears welling up in his eyes.
“DAD!” he cried out again, catching another glimpse of the tank. A shredded and half-eaten arm surfaced. Bastien’s eyes widened so much that he felt they would pop out of the sockets. He then hunched over again, unable to stop himself as he spilled the contents of his stomach all across.
Finally an adult stepped forward, scooping of the terrified boy. However, once he was lifted off of the ground, Bastien pased out, unable to handle the trauma that had befallen him.
When Bastien next opened his eyes within the memory, he was in a hospital, hooked up to many machines.
A doctor then came in, surprised to see the boy awake.
“Good afternoon, Mr. O’Shay.” he said in a serious tone.
He glanced around. “What on earth am I doing here?” he asked.
He looked at the calendar by his bed. It was April 18th. That was curious. Last he remembered, it was the 8th.
The boy’s eyes widened.
“Wait, why does that calendar say…. why am I here?” he asked, puzzled.
The doctor gave a long pause.
“What’s the last thing you remember?” he asked to Bastien.
“Well, I was getting ready to go to one of my dad’s shows, as usual. I never get tired of seeing him perform.” he said, smiling fondly.
He then looked around once more.
“Say, where is my dad?” he asked.
—-
Bastien’s eyes snapped open and a low scream rang through the suite. He jumped out of bed, sobbing profusely. His eyes were blinded my tears, and he sprinted into the kitchen.
He was barely what one would consider as awake. He was completely autonomous as he knocked over a kitchen chair, stumbling and wildly scampering over towards the sink.
“Where is he…. WHERE IS HE!?” he called out, his voice practically incoherent babble. He looked down at his wrists, eyes widening.
“No!” he shouted. Although he was physically fine, when he looked at his wrists and ankles, he saw restraints put on them, cuffing them. He panicked, reached for a kitchen knife, racing to get them off.
“GET THESE OFF OF ME!” he shrieked, and with great forced he slammed the knife down to try and cut through the cuffs that weren’t there. Instead, the blade ripped through his flesh, hitting the bone. He let out a ragged scream, but it in mind he’d cut off the cuff. He picked up the knife in his opposite hand, driving it down into his wrist in an identical fashion.
He then collapsed onto the floor, and the knife clattered to the ground.
Bastien looked to his ankles, seeing cuffs on him. The cuffs his father couldn’t escape.
He grabbed for the knife and hacked away at his ankles. Blood splattered against the ground and with every shout he drove it into his ankle again, tapping the blade against the bone.
Finally, he saw the cuffs shatter, releasing him. He dropped the knife, and fell backwards, his eyes closing.
He was free.
It was over.
Even if just for one more night.