| It was near midnight as a soulful voice filtered out into the night air. Passers-by in the streets stopped to listen as best they could, soon going on with their own business and leaving the artist to his. The streets were soon left to a lonely teenager, who’s parents certainly didn’t consider should be out this late. He hugged himself trying to shelter his chest from the cold, as he made his way toward the voice. Just outside, he stopped to admire the artist’s work. The voice wasn’t new to him, only the melody. He lived with that voice. Making his way to the door, he unlocked and opened it to find the home in darkness. Moving quickly and quietly, he closed the door with a slight creak, and began to make his way through the house. The soft sounds of slumber were the only interruption of the artist’s voice, though already slightly softened. Once in the kitchen, he slowly opened the refrigerator to get a drink, closed it, then once again began to move. He made his way closer to the voice, which was now distinguished as being in the garage. He could see the soft light of a small lamp filtering slightly into the hall, through what was left of a small opening in the door. Quietly, as he came closer, he rest a palm onto the door and pushed slightly. The door opened a little to the sound of a pen scratching across paper, the voice still. He saw the silhouette of his brother, sitting with his back to him, writing. With a yawn, he turned, feeling the presence. “You’re back,” he whispered softly with a grin, and a twinkle in his eye to match. “I’m back,” he replied, coming into the room and closing the door. His eyes found a small stool in the corner, which he went to fetch under the watchful eyes of his brother. He brought it closer, and sat beside him. “Bit late to be composing,” he raised his eyebrows. “Yeah…” his brother raised his own, blinking the sleep out of his eyes, “I just wanted to get on with something I was working on earlier.” “Where’s Ike?” “Gone to bed I guess.” With a yawn, he closed the keyboard. Then he smiled at his brother. “So, what do you say we hit the sheets as well?” He finished his drink, and set the glass down on the nearby table. “Yeah, I guess. It’s a bit late, huh?” His brother, done composing, rose from his seat and turned away. He grabbed a nearby torch and flicked it on before switching off the lava lamp. “Let’s go. Try not to wake anyone.” Both young men exited the room, and departed further down the hallway with a soft whisper of 'Good night'. The night's composer making his way into a bedroom shared with his eldest brother Isaac, the night's traveler opposite with their youngest brother Mackenzie. As the composer closed his door, he hummed the melody still in his head, not noticing the movement in the bed next to his own. "Mmm… what are you doing up this late mister?" He jumped, quickly turning. "Ike you scared the crap out of me. I could have woken someone up." "Looks like you did already." "Sorry." Isaac shifted position under his sheets as he made his way toward his bed and began to get undressed. "See you in the morning." "Yeah. Sorry for keeping you awake." "You didn't." He chuckled as he got into bed and settled down for the night. Soft whispers could be heard from the next room now that all was still. With another yawn, he slowly drifted off to sleep. To his annoyance, he awoke again seconds later. But when he was about to sit up to try and find why, he found he couldn't move. "Ike…?" he tried to gasp out, but no sound was made. Then he saw the tall figure leaning over him, and heard the deep whisper… "Hello Taylor… I'm your dream doctor." |
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