The Wion

A wion hunts a girl's dreams but dreams become reality when he bursts through the window.

“Mommy,” a tiny voice crooned from the hallway, “Mommy, I dweamed about the wion again.”

I turned the television off and spun around on the couch to look at my four-year-old. Her thin, blonde hair matted to her head with sweat and her blue eyes were red with sleep. My arms spread out. She bolted over and clambered into my lap.

“It’s just a dream,” I promised, smoothing her wet curls off her forehead.

Her little head shook back and forth and she buried her face against my shoulder. I laid my head against hers. For the last six months, about once a week, sometimes more, she dreamed of the lion.

Although I’d heard about the dream enough I knew it by heart, I said, “Why don’t you tell me about it? Sometimes, that helps you get back to sleep.”

Chelsea nodded and pulled back so I stared into blue eyes again. Her lower lip trembled
as she recollected her nightmare, but she didn’t cry as she said, “I wook out my window and there’s bwue eyes wooking at me.”

“Like yours?”

“Uh huh, wike mine. It’s a wion, Mommy, and he’s going to eat me.”

“Not while I’m here, I promise. No lion will eat you.”

Her little blonde curls bounced against her cheeks as she shook her head. “No, he breaks my window. And he eats you first, and he’s going to eat me. He’s a bad wion.”

Her small body quaked with fear so I hugged her tight against me.Eventually, the tiny hands clinging to my shirt relaxed. Her head dropped against my chest as sleep overcame her. Practicing Mom magic, I managed to wiggle off the couch and carried her to her room. I tucked her in bed. When I glanced at her blinds, I rolled my eyes. She’d been playing in them again and crunched a few.

I leaned over her bed to fix the thin metal bars when movement shifted outside. I squinted forward and received a horrible shock…

A pair of brilliant blue eyes stared back at me, wide and unblinking. My hand slapped my lips, choking the scream down my throat. Chelsea’s sliding window made a klunking noise as someone jiggled it, trying to get in.

I scooped her up in my arms and she groaned, “Mommy, what’s wong?”

I didn’t want to scare her, but I needed her to understand the seriousness of the situation, “Your lion is trying to get in the house. I need you to hide in your favorite spot, okay?”

After I set her down, she bolted from the room. The window gave another thud noise and drew my attention back to it. I closed my eyes for a moment, trying to remember where I set my cell phone down.

I couldn’t remember. A cracking noise emitted from the thin pane. I turned around and fled my daughter’s room.

Bolting to the kitchen, my heart pounded in my ears, blocking all sound. I grabbed a butcher knife from the block. It wasn’t much, and I wished I listened to my ex husband and learned how to use a gun. It would have to do.

The window shattered. Chelsea gave a muffled scream from my bedroom. I coiled the knife at my side as I stared through the kitchen doorway into my daughter’s room. A man crawled through the mutilated blinds and shards of broken glass.I couldn’t see what he looked like, for same as Chelsea, I superimposed a lion over his face, discovering only hunger and twisted need.

His voice rumbled over the crunching of his shoes on the glass on the floor, “I’m going to eat you up, and then I’m going to eat your daughter; your tasty, succulent little girl.”

My grip on the knife tightened and his eerie, blue eyes looked down at it. A grin lit his lips as he scoffed at my attempt at a weapon.

“What do you think you’re going to do with that? Cut me?” He lunged at me with his fingers curling like talons.

I screamed, slashing the air in front of me. My feet carried me back until the counter edged off my escape. He grabbed my wrist and ground the bone forcing me to drop the knife with a cry of pain.

Giving an odd purring noise, he sniffed me and chuckled. My eyes squeezed shut, silent sobs shaking my body. His other hand grabbed my chin and slammed me into the counter, knocking the breath out of me. With a gasp, I arched in his grasp. Releasing me, he made a sly giggle. I sank to my knees, trying to encourage my lungs to work again.

He dropped to his knees in front of me, holding my gaze. The amusement on his predatory features terrified me… I saw death in his face.

Another grin lit his face and he gripped a handful of my hair. Pinning my head in place, he opened his mouth wide. I wheezed out a weak cry at the sight of the sharp, filed teeth.

When he sank them into my cheek, I shrieked until my throat burned, but it didn’t drown out the sound of my own flesh rending from my bone. Agony blinded me. I raked my nails across his face, trying to disconnect him from mine.

Terrified that Chelsea was next, I could only focus on stopping him from getting to her. I couldn’t let him have my baby.

My fingers dropped to the floor, clutching around until I felt the handle of the knife. As he tore another strip of my cheek off, I swung the knife with as much force as I could muster.

It sank into his neck with a horrible squelch. Hot blood splashed against my hand. I yanked it out and crouched to stab him again.

Clutching at his neck, he fell back from me. Strangled mews bubbled out with crimson foam on his lips. He lifted his hand and a red fountain shot from the wound.

He collapsed face first, trying to hold his life fluid in but it spread in a slick pool beneath him. I staggered to my feet, shreds of my cheek spiky in my vision and disorientating me.

The knife still held at the ready in my hand. I would not give him the opportunity to go after Chelsea.

One hand swiped around in the puddle like he tried to wave then he quit moving. I stepped aside, avoiding his blood and stayed until I knew for sure, the “wion” was dead.