Eric Dimbleby - White Out

“Baby,” she said, nearly bursting into tears. Forgetting all about the maniac boarding up the basement door, Annie walked towards a tiny night light, shining near the futon-bed at the other side of the basement.

She moved towards the light, feeling as if invisible hands were transporting her.

When she got close enough to Paulie, she could see his face, barely illuminated by the dull night-light. She curled her arms around him, nuzzling her face into his tiny shoulder, and she started to weep. It felt good to weep like this. Paulie did the same, but he was so feeble that it came out like little whines.

“My baby,” she said, feeling a rush of energy return to her, and then that rush exited just as quickly. Though they were in danger, she held her baby tight and drifted into a bizarre, worrisome (yet pleasant, in some way) sleep. When he started to snore, pressing his body up against her as she contorted into a fetal position around him, she felt an infectious serenity wash over her body.

Annie and her baby boy slept.

The people in Paulie’s dream were eating each other. There were chocolate stains all over their faces and clothing. Streaks of brown led from their neighbors’ houses, out into the street where the people melted, falling all over each other, chewing each other’s heads just like he did with that big chocolate Easter bunny that grandma sent him.

It was just like his Daddah’s joke: the one about eating people made of chocolate. After Easter, Paulie asked his Daddah nearly single day, “We eat big bunny, yah?” The convincing didn’t work and Paulie would get upset. Until one day, his pop gave in and said they could eat the giant bunny.

The bunny was almost as tall as Paulie and his Daddah had hidden it away in the bedroom closet. Paulie wasn’t allowed in there, but he snuck in a couple times so he could get a good look at the super-huge gigantic chocolate bunny, if only to fantasize.

As his father broke off the long brown ears, handing one to Paulie and keeping the other for himself, he had said, “This poor bunny. We’re eating him and there’s nothing he can do.”

So Paulie replied, “Not reah, Daddah! Not reah .”

“I see. And are you a regular, Paulie, or are you a chocolate Paulie?” his father asked next, licking his lips like the silly-pants that he was.

What a goober his father was. “No, I a boy. I a boy n’ my name is Pawwwlie.”

Daddah shook his head. “No, I think you’re a chocolate Paulie, and I’m gonna eat you up.” After this, his father went mega-silly, running after Paulie, chasing him around the living room, tickling him in the armpits as he pretended to chew on his head, making snorty piggie noises while he did it.

Paulie couldn’t remember ever laughing so hard—he almost peed his pants. Almost.

But this dream about the chocolate people wasn’t funny at all.

Paulie knew he was dreaming. Mama once said dreams were kind of like watching a movie. It’s not real, but sometimes it looks so real that it gets scary.

The guy from across the street, a round man named Mister Pete, was eating his own dog. His dog was named Jake, and Paulie made sure he waved to Jake every time Mr. Pete took the golden-tan Corgi for a walk.

Jake was made of chocolate, but so was Mr. Pete. They rolled around on the ground, biting into each other. It wasn’t playing, like when he and his Daddah pretended they were made of chocolate. It was scary . Scarier than dinosaurs. Scarier than monsters. Scarier than bugs. So scary that it made Paulie want to wake up and never have any dreams again.

The chocolate people were all tangled up, just like Daddah’s garden hose that he could never get straightened out right. Their chocolate was all over the place, covering the streets. Paulie looked up and down the road and found more and more chocolate people, chocolate animals, and chocolate houses. They were all eating each other. They had forgotten all about the deep, deep snow, cause now, they were worried about something else. They were worried about their tummies.

The chocolate people were hungry. They seemed real sad, like somebody had just died, but their faces got bright again once they started eating each other. Nobody said any words. All that Paulie could hear was the sound of slurping and chewing.

That was when Eggah’s hand popped out of the snow. He was holding the pancake-flipper, holding it like he was about to swing it at him. It would hurt, but not as much as being eaten by the chocolate people or the chocolate dogs. Eggah had been hiding beneath the snow all along, waiting for his moment to come out and eat his share of chocolate.

Paulie knew deep inside of him that it wouldn’t be as fun as the time his Daddah tried to eat him. Daddah had only been playing. Eggah looked like he was serious.

Eggah looked like he was awful hungry.

Once he was out of the snow bank, he tossed his pancake-flipper aside, then he grabbed at Paulie’s feet, pulling off the cowboy boots that he’d given him. Paulie was mad that he would do that, taking back his gift that way, and so he tried to kick Eggah in the mouth. He missed. Eggah started to scream after that, angrier than the time he’d hurt Paulie.

Eggah bit into Paulie’s leg. It didn’t hurt like the pancake-flipper did, but it looked mighty scary to see that happening to his leg. Chocolate was coming out of the spot that Eggah had bit him, oozing and dripping into the snow. Eggah licked at it with his tongue and then he started to laugh. He bit into Paulie’s other leg next.

From there it only got worse. For the first time in his life, Paulie knew what it felt like to no longer be a boy, but to be a chocolate Paulie, just like his father had kidded him about.

Paulie screamed for his mother, and for his father, while the strange man (who he thought was his friend but was really just a big meanie) ate him up, bit by bit, lick by lick.

Paulie woke up, gasping for air, feeling around in the dark, hoping that his legs were still there and not all melted and chocolaty like in his horrible dream.

They were there. Eggah hadn’t eaten him, after all. He had hurt him plenty (in real life, not like in the dreams) but he hadn’t eaten him. Not yet.

That was when Paulie realized that his Mama had just returned to him and that she could protect him now. She could protect him from Eggah if he ever got mean—

that flippah’s for pancakes, Eggah !

—again.

“I not chocolate. I a boy. I a boy named Pawwwwlie,” he whispered.

Paulie cuddled close to his mother and fell back asleep. This time the dreams were happy. The first dream was about a pony and the next one was about a picnic with his parents. He wouldn’t remember any others after that, because sometimes dreams stayed hidden deep inside you.

He slept so deep that he didn’t hear the watery noises. He didn’t hear the drips.

Annie snapped awake, fully confused by her location, unsure of how she’d arrived. She smelled Paulie’s breathing against her chin, though she could not see him in the basement’s darkness. She was home again. It all returned to her and she assured herself that she hadn’t been dreaming. Annie was back with Paulie again. Christian was still missing, though.

A faint recollection of the nails pounding returned to her, but that sound was absent now. Edgar had finished his deed, sealing her into a prison. She wondered if Edgar was even his real name. The man in their house was a certifiable snake in the grass, though she had only just met him. She could say that much for certain.

Should have fought a little harder. That might have been your last chance, sweetie.