I had to pee, badly. As soon as we got out of that room I bolted for the bathroom. The Kirin did not grace me with a scorning scoff, but I could hear the Wolpertinger moving around in the walls sporadically. Everything was quiet, but tense.

The sound of the dying toilet followed me as I made my way to the dining table where Jordan rested with his head in his hands. He was muttering 'I'm sorry' over and over. It took me a moment, but I finally realized that he was crying.

He sniffed and sat up, "I forgot that that monster was in that room. Originally I slept in there, but I moved."

"What was that?"

He explained everything to me. That was a Lonedark. They want to be happy very badly. When they can, they lure people into the darkest part of the room using anything that they have. In a desperate attempt, they absorb everything that the person feels. But the darkest thoughts and feelings that a humans possess cannot be devoured like the happy and gleeful ones. Those dark thoughts fester and grow, making the Lonedark ever powerful. They cannot be killed, but they can only hurt those who believe in their existence. This is why children, before they are convinced otherwise by their parents, believe in monsters hiding under their beds and in their closets.

I yawned. Being that it was three in the morning, I was tired. Jordan saw me and sighed,

"If you're sleepy, go to bed. You can use my room. We have a big day tomorrow, and you need to be rested."

After a moment of consideration I decided to do that. The shag carpet in the halls muffled my footsteps. Jordan's room was clean, something I did not expect from someone with his personality. The Stormtrooper comforter had nearly been ripped clean off of the bed. Gently, as if handling something of great value, I remade the bed before crawling into it. My body, weary from all of the day's dealings, fell asleep quickly.

The next day was, in fact, a "big day". It started off with a heart attack, as Jordan pounded on the door, demanding that I wake up and let him get his clothes. I dragged myself out of the bed and to the door. I gave Jordan a glare, muttered a 'thanks for the heart attack' and went to my bedroom to get something to wear that wasn't a Winnie the Pooh flannel pajama set. The Lonedark didn't bother me, but I could tell it was still there. In the end a bleach stained black shirt and a pair of jeans sufficed for the day.

Jordan was already at the table by the time I managed to exit my room. He slid me a granola bar identical to the one he was eating and an orange.

"First things first," he said past a mouthful of food, "we have to move you out of that room. I am so sorry, I forgot about the Lonedark. We need to go into town today and get a few things from the store." he glared off into the distance, "Like food. Our fridge is so empty I had to fight the Guggle for control this morning."

I snorted, imagining what that scene could have looked like. Somehow, Jordan ended up wielding a cast iron skillet. My brain, delirious from lack of sleep, just could not handle it and I doubled over laughing. Jordan stopped in the middle of his plans for the day and stared at me.

"What in the hell is so funny?"

I took a moment from my howling to look at him, "Really? Just the thought of you fighting a Guggle is hilarious... but then you have a frying pan-"

"I didn't say anything about a frying pan," his voice was laced with forced patience.

"I know, but I thought about you with a frying pan and then everything went to shit." I sat all the way up and wiped the tears from under my eyes, "Anyway, you were saying something about food."

Jordan chuckled exasperatedly and shook his head, "Nevermind, just come on."

About six dragons greeted us on his car. Reds, greens, blues, none of them were much bigger than the one that tried to eat my face a couple nights ago. Strangely, in their midst, I spotted an orange cat. It didn't seem to see anything wrong. Jordan groaned and walked up to them waving his arms and screaming at them to leave. They scattered, hissing at us.

After a while in the car, I got up the nerve to ask a question,

"If so many of these things exist with us, why can no one see them?"

"Well," Jordan began, "Mostly it's because there aren't actually that many that live in our world. You see, most of them come from a world called Anderewelt. Anderewelt is that TV cliche "mirror world" that you hear of from every show that includes magic beings. The only difference is that Anderwelt is nothing like our world at all. Everything there is... different."

"Like what?" I asked, thoroughly engaged by that point.

"Well," he rubbed the back of his head, "I have never been there myself, but I've heard things about lakes that have pinprick points of light, like the night sky. And forests that are so thick that no one has gotten all the way through them. There are so many other things, but I can't really explain them. Anyway, the other reason that people don't know about the creatures from Anderewelt, is because over the years people have convinced themselves that monsters and myths don't exist. You'll notice that people are fully capable of convincing themselves that something is or is not true. Hence the origin of 'opinions'." He made finger quotes.

After everything I'd been through, shopping at Walmart felt a little too normal. I mean, I'm not one to complain about a poptart sale, but it kind of paled in comparison to dragons.

I was in the middle of a very serious icecream flavor decision when Jordan ran up to me, all out of breath, and grabbed my arm.

"Come on," he huffed, "we need to go."

I, pissed at being forced away from my frozen milk, didn't listen to him at first. I pulled my arm away and continued to browse my ice cream.

Jordan glared at me, "Dammit woman!"

Then he picked me up, dropped me into someone else's shopping cart, and wheeled me to the front of the store. I was about to scream at him about accosting young women, but I was interrupted by a not-so-well-placed arrow flying past my face. There was a moment where I was worried that my nose was no longer on my face, but it turned out to still be there. Jordan lifted me out of the cart and we ran to the car. I hadn't seen what had shot the arrow, but I didn't really care at that point. When someone shoots at you, you get out of there.

When we got in the car I took a moment to look out my window. There was a face staring after us as we drove away. Though the features made it look as though it may have once been human, that time was long gone. Thin skin was stretched over a face with features that were just a little too large. There were veins and arteries running on the outside of his body, stringy hair falling just a little too far into his eyes. This...thing... whatever it was, had clearly died.

My heart was racing as we pulled onto the empty main road. I wasn't sure why, at first. Despite the fact that I was almost shot, it seemed, at the time, that there was no real reason to be afraid. Until I looked at Jordan. He white-knuckled the steering wheel and his face was the color of milk. He wasn't just scared, he was terrified. Something about that thing was making him panic.

As a child, I was always scared. Was there a shadow in the corner? Maybe there was a particularly loud dog at the end of the block. It never mattered, nothing anyone said made me any less fearful. It was always at its worst, however, when someone else showed any sliver of fear. I had hoped that as I aged it would get better, go away, but it never did. Now, looking at Jordan, the man who had a Lonedark living in his bedroom, I felt a sense of calm. He wasn't supposed to be afraid, he was supposed to be the one in control, the one who knew what to do, the one who was calm. But he wasn't, he was scared, and I was the level-headed one. Somehow, that thought was more intimidating than the monster in the parking lot.

After a while, I started to notice a shift in the buildings that surrounded us. Some of them were aging, some of them were becoming dilapidated and ruined. We turned onto a road that looked to be an abandoned shopping street. I would have guessed that the stores were originally built in the nineteen fifties, but we pulled up in front of one that looked like it was pulled straight from the nineteen twenties. The art-deco-style spires, shapes, and designs were plastered onto the front of the building. In the Broadway font that that era was so known for, the name Treasures, was centered above the door.

Jordan took a deep breath before speaking to me,

"This guy in here is a good friend of mine. He can help us."

I wanted to ask so many questions, with what? What was that? Why are you scared? But instead my head was suddenly occupied with another question entirely,

"Are there pirates in Anderewelt?"

Jordan raised an eyebrow and, as he stepped out of the car, spoke, "Um, yeah, there are a few."

He was out of the car before I could ask any of the other questions, any of the important ones. I sat for a moment, alone, and tried to make sense of the day's happenings. But as soon as I thought of that creepy man at the store, a wave of fear washed over me, making my arms heavy and my hands numb. I scrambled to get out of the car and into the store.

The art deco style stopped at the front door. Once I got inside, everything looked like it was a medieval armory. Everything was a dark wood, and the only light was supplied by three cast-iron chandeliers. Except, the things in the glass display cases weren't just armor. There were old books, pocket watches, and small baby items. It seemed we had entered an antique shop.

The man standing behind the counter was a character as vivid as his shop. He had aging hair, and skin, and he moved with the slow precision of someone who knew that he had enough time to do whatever he was doing well. The only things about him that suggested he wasn't as old as his hair indicated, were his eyes. They were a spritely shade of blue, and they seemed ageless.

"Well, my boy, what brings you here?" the man grinned, and it unnerved me. Something about it just seemed a little off.

Jordan ran his fingers through his hair, his hand still shaking. In three short, heart-rending, words, Jordan told the man what happened,

"They found us."

"Us?" the man asks, sounding like he'd been smoking his whole life, "Boy she only wants you. Unless..." he turned his gaze to me and looked me up and down slowly. Then he dropped his gaze and chuckled, "It's too late, isn't it boy?"

Jordan nodded, "What can you do?"

The man stood up with a deep sniff, "Well, there is one thing." he turned back to me again, "You know how to shoot girl?"

The question caught me off guard, "I, um, no, not really."

The man shook his head, "Well, here you go anyway," he placed a revolver that looked like it had seen the great depression on the counter, "Don't worry, it's for extreme circumstances only."

I looked at Jordan and tentatively picked up the heavy thing. It had a wood grip and beautifully patterned brass workings.

"What do I owe you?" Jordan asked. The man smiled and shook his head,

"This isn't for you, it's for the little lady. If anyone owes me it's her," he sees the terror on my face and throws back his head in laughter, "Don't worry girl, the first thing is always free. My name is Veles, by the way."

"Jordan, my name is Jordan," I squeaked.

"Well," Veles said, "isn't that fun. Anyway, I have better things to do with my time, so I have to bid you adieu."

Jordan took my arm tentatively and pulled me back to the car. We drove the rest of the way home in silence. By this time, we had both regained a sense of composure, we were both calm. That was until we pulled into the parking lot at our hotel, and I recognized a particular green ford, and an angry ex-marine standing beside his thin wife.

My parents.

"Oh shit."

Thanks for reading! As always, if you've spotted any mistakes, please let me know.