name: nyx
gender: dfab
nightcap design: artist's choice!
prompt:
some would say that winter was the cruelest our village would see for centuries, but we wouldn't know that at the time. my wife and infant son were hungry, and i had grown desperate to provide. that night in the tavern, having spending my last silver pence on a pint of ale, i noticed the sign posted by the door:
never had i seen such a sum offered in exchange for labor, so i quickly saddled my mare and rode east. arriving in a part of the parish i had not typically frequented, i felt myself grow uneasy. i tied my mare up outside and fed her a dried apple from my pocket. after knocking thrice, an old woman opened the door and signaled for me to follow her. i entered the dwelling, which was damp and smelt of sour wine, and trailed the matron through the winding corridor. we arrived in a cold room with a low ceiling, where a winged scarlet ewe sat before me in a velvet chair.
"i take it that you are looking for work?" the ewe questioned me. i was taken aback by her ability to speak, but not completely shaken, as i had heard tales of witchcraft happening on this side of the village.
"that is correct, my lady."
"excellent. hold out your palm for agnes, dear." before i had time to so much as lift my left hand, the old woman called agnes grasped it and dragged an iron blade across my palm. wincing, i watched as she held my bleeding palm over a silver cup filled with swirling purple liquid.
"what is this work, exactly?" i asked. agnes handed me a piece of gauze, which i held tightly in my palm.
"i am in the business of creating nightmares." as the ewe spoke, agnes handed me the silver cup. "please, drink." i raised the cup to my lips, and i instantly grow weary as my body fell forward onto the floor in slumber.
my dreams were a blur. swirling black demons clouded my vision and circled my lying body. unable to move or close my eyes, i was cursed to endure their taunting. the spirits laughed and clawed at me, their voices sharp and rippling through my dungeon of sleep. after what feels like hours, one demon took the form of a winged sheep and pressed her hooves to my eyelids, finally freeing me from the relentless evil.
i woke in a drowsy slump outside of the dwelling i had entered earlier. i noticed the the weight of a canvas bag fastened to my belt and opened it, finding sixty silver pence reflecting my face back at me. i smile, then saddle my mare and ride home.
