Before Stanley could blink, he found himself inside a book with no sight of Nessie. Was it a trick? He glanced around at his surroundings. The thick forest, filled with strange creatures and sounds, frightened him. He hadn't remembered this fear since he was a child, lost in the woods.
There was nowhere to run, nowhere to climb, nowhere to escape at all. None of the strange beings greeted him, nor did they attack him. So... he wondered what he should do next?
"Nessie!" he whispered as loud as he dared. But she did not appear.
"Come," a low voice behind him demanded.
Stanley turned to find his father... except it wasn't really his father. But he followed anyway. He felt anxious. His father had been verbally abusive to him, critical, never doing father-son things with Stanley. Then his mother left the two of them and never came back. So Stanley had buried himself in books... mostly horror books, and now all the horror stories he'd ever read were reminding him of the things he was afraid of. Really afraid of. But this was a fantasy book, right? Stay focused, he kept telling himself. This isn't real. You'll wake up soon.
"Where are you taking me?" he asked.
"Don't ask questions, idiot. Just do as I say."
Aw, yes. Those old feelings of worthlessness flooded back. Fear that his father might cast him away if he didn't do what he was told. That big empty space in his stomach longing to be filled with love and acceptance. If he'd only known back then, his father was not capable of love and compassion. He grew to understand why his mother had left, though he'd often wondered why she hadn't taken her little boy with her.
"Psst!"
Stanley glanced around. He knew Nessie was nearby and he actually was relieved she came back. If he had the choice, he would most definitely choose the disheveled fairy over a monstrous man with no capacity for kindness or love.
"Psst! Over here!"
His father turned just as Nessie sprinkled fairy dust over Stanley, making him disappear.
"Show yourself!" his father barked. "Or else."
"Or else what?" Nessie asked Stanley.
"Or else the dungeon," he replied as he wiped the perspiration from his forehead. "Actually, the basement in our old house. I thought of it as a dungeon. He'd lock me in down there, sometimes for days. It was cold and damp... and dark." He shivered and wondered if Stephen King had ever experience real horrors such as this.
Nessie took his hand. "He's gone now. Come with me. It's not safe here."
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