OOC: In this dream thread, Shawn may think and control all of Shawn's actions. The ST will add dialogue

Shawn looked around. He could hear his breathing. Soft, slow, warm breathing. Shawn licked his lips. His nerves were rising. He could feel and see the box.

The Numbers Game.

The box sat in the middle of the room. His room. Bobby and Ralph were gone. No where to be seen. Mom and Dad were gone. These things were things that Shawn knew to be true.

"It wants to be opened." Shawn said. Almost as if he was saying it to himself. Saying it to Shawn. Not the Shawn that was speaking, but the Shawn that would be speaking. A convincing tone. The tone of someone who wants to win an argument.
This message was last updated by the GM at 01:08, Mon 20 Mar 2017.

Shawn looked around his room, knowing for certain that Bobby and Ralph and Mom and Dad weren't around. The box was sitting in the middle of his room, and he knew it wanted to be opened. Should he open it? Maybe he should - why else would he have bought it if not to use it?

As he was thinking, he walked across the room and picked up the box. He didn't open it yet, but he was considering it.

Shawn's hands felt a knowing clarity as he touched the box. A touch of wisdom, perhaps arcane wisdom from deep within its contents.

"The Clowns are downstairs." Shawn said. He stammered it. It was true. They weren't there a few seconds ago, but Shawn could sense that the Clowns were in fact, downstairs. Mr. Cherrywinks was down there.

Shawn put the box in his pocket. He felt like it was important to keep it with him, like its wisdom and clarity would help somehow. Then suddenly the Clowns were downstairs. He didn't question how he knew it all of a sudden, but that hardly mattered anyway. He rushed out his bedroom door towards the stairs. He didn't like it (did he?) but Mr. Cherrywinks probably had another task for him. He had to do it, to keep his family safe. He had to keep the Circus happy.

Shawn looked down from the top of the stairs. He didn't like that Mr. Cherrywinks was there, threatening his friends and family. At the same time, he knew that the Clown's presence was now an inevitable part of his life. Until he could find a way to...to....to...

But that thought was suddenly cut off from Shawn's mind as he gazed downstairs. At the bottom step, the ragged Clown's pants flapped in a hot breeze. He stood there, larger than life, shadow looming over the steps.

"You're too late." he said. He held out his arm, outstretched. His hand was bald into a fist, holding Ralphs's severed head up with one arm.

"I found Ralph. And someone else is next, probably Sally." He added, though he seemed uncertain

Shawn felt hot tears of fear and anger trickle down his cheeks, though he was too paralysed with emotion to do more than stare down at the clown. Again, he felt a burning feeling of injustice and unfairness. Why was Mr. Cherrywinks doing this to his friends and family? Hadn't he done everything that was asked of him? He wanted to say something, but it was like something else, separate from him, had control of his mouth.

"But we had a deal!!" Shawn wailed. There was a sensation that his fists wanted to clench, but the didn't. He felt choked up. From rage? From anger? From fear? All of these things built up as a wall of frustration welled up inside of him.