The Nightmare Fox
Something that is common with all creatures in Denia is the fact that no characters are born evil or power hungry. It all stems from their upbringing and childhood. Foxes are generally considered to be tricksters or warlords and for the most part that can be put down to the legends and folklore they are fed when they are in their formative years.
To get a young fox to behave they are often told stories of the Nightmare Fox. He takes on many forms depending on the need but the overarching theme never changes. Often used as a fable to scare the weakness out of a cub who is perceived to not be as strong, either mentally or physically, as he or she should be. Over-use of the threat can weaken its effects, however, which can have consequences of its own. The following tale concerns one such fox who had heard the warnings of the Nightmare Fox a few times too many, or so he thought…
This story is aimed at the young adult audience, so contains adult themes and descriptions (not sexual) without being "adult" in nature, hence marking as All Ages. SoFurry lacks a rating that would be suitable for this situation.
The Nightmare Fox is going to get you. It was a threat young Riche had heard far too many times. The mysterious fox who would haunt the dreams of naughty cubs who did not do as their parents wished. The danger level had decreased since the season of his birth as no matter what he did, the Nightmare Fox would never show up. His father seemed to deploy the name every time the cub had failed to do something. Eat your raw meat or the Nightmare Fox will get you; learn to use this blade or the Nightmare Fox will get you; stop crying when the bully shoved you and instead start plotting your revenge or the Nightmare Fox will get you. The list just seemed to be never ending and without restraint on how petty the misdemeanour had to be to solicit the response. Instead of living in fear, Riche would just roll his eyes and give a disinterested agreement to whatever his father was saying.
After failing to get the kill that could have meant the family ate well for that evening it seemed to the fox that his father was almost ready to give up on him. The cub had never liked killing even though it was how they put food on the table every day. He was happy to prepare the corpse for the meal but the act of bringing death had never appealed to him. An exasperated threat of the Nightmare Fox had followed. A warning that served little to project the fear it was intended but the line his father had said afterwards shook him a little.
“The Nightmare Fox is going to get you for sure this time,” the threat had been. “He’ll make a killer out of you.”
That night, as Riche went to bed, the words still rang in his ears. Most of the stories had involved the feared fox killing off his intended target and not turning them into killers. It did not matter, however, as it was not as though the fictional fox could actually get him. Reassured by this thought, Riche allowed himself to rest. Sleep soon caught up with him and the young fox slipped into its peaceful embrace.
The land of dreams was a wild and Technicolour landscape made of rolling hills and busy valleys. The young fox found he could feel the gentle breeze against his face and delight in the smells of the outside. They reminded him of home, of the woods near his house. He ran towards the trees at the top of the nearest hill to him. No matter how fast he ran, however, the hills would not get any closer. This did not bother him as it meant he could continue his chase for that little bit longer. It was only when they seemed to be getting even further away did he stop in his endeavour to get to them. Feeling a little dejected by his failure, he turned around only to be presented with a village.
The hall on his left looked much like the village hall in his own village, only darker and more mysterious. He soon noticed that all the buildings looked a little odd in their appearance. It was as if they were trying to instil a seed of fear. Something was not right. He should not be there. The wind sounded like it was howling through the trees now but he had lost the ability to feel it.
“I’m having a nightmare,” he told himself in the dream. “Any moment now I can wake up and everything will be fine.”
“Oh it will, will it?” A high, almost mocking, voice behind him asked. Riche spun around and was met by the most deformed character he had ever seen in his life. A fox, standing about twice his height, looked down at him. A mangled body twitched under an oversized head. Ears that had been bitten and torn were only just hanging on to the creature's skull. And the blood, so much blood. It seemed to ooze out of every cut and fur-less patch that festooned the creature’s body. An evil smile revealed damaged and sharp teeth which seemed to dance as the beast let out an ear piercing shrill screech. Riche covered his ears to block out of the noise but that only made the sound louder.
Without warning, the vision reached a bony, crooked single finger out and planted it square in the centre of the young fox’s forehead. Instead of pain or suffering being flooded into his brain Riche felt the fiend was taking something. The longer the finger was there the less afraid he felt. The deformed fox in front of him was feasting on his fear, ingesting it via the link it had created with its victim. As the meal continued the nightmare seemed to change around him until he was alone in an inky black void with the Nightmare creature. Power surged from its body in the form of purple arcs of electricity leaping off into the void. Some of these strands travelled down the beast’s arm and into the poor fox he had trapped. Again, there was no pain. Instead a feeling of power welled through him. There was no fear. There was only power. It was a strange feeling but it was not unpleasant. Instead it felt good. When the finger left his forehead and the dream faded to an end Riche was left with the sensation of hunger. It was as if he had not eaten for moons.
With a jolt the fox woke. He took a few deep breaths as he tried to comprehend what had just happened. His bedroom seemed to have a faint purple glow about it. Wrestling his bed clothes off, Riche could see that his red fur was glowing with a tinge of the colour that had travelled down into him during his dream.
“It was a dream, right?” The question was out loud as the fox tried to reassure himself. Further pondering was ceased by a loud growl from his stomach. It was starving. Hopping out of his bed he threw on a pair of trousers before heading for the pantry. It was empty. This was a little confusing as his mother normally kept it well stocked. Then another thought crossed his mind and it was one he had never had before. Since it was his mother that stocked the pantry it must be her fault that it was currently far less than full. Well that would never do. If he had made that mistake there would have been another threat of the Nightmare Fox. Why should the Nightmare Fox only be a thing of myth and legend?
Picking up a sharp knife from the kitchen the cub decided that it was high time the myth became reality. All the normal voices in his head which would tell him this was wrong were silent as he crept into his parents room. His mother and father were fast asleep in the bed with their bodies entwined around each other in a sleeping lover’s embrace. Without making a sound the fox drew his knife high into the air and brought it down with great force onto the sleeping adults. Stab after stab with the sounds of screaming, crying, and pleading filling his ears. Blood splattered everywhere, soaking his face, arms, chest, and the room as the demented frenzy continued until he was quite sure that both creatures were dead.
The random act of brutality had felt so good. It was as if he was the most powerful being in the world. But it did not sate his hunger fully. Reaching down he grabbed the corpse of his father and took a savage bite out of his throat. The raw meat tasted better than anything he had ever eaten before. He could taste the raw fear imprinted in the flavour. It drove him wild. He feasted well on the dead bodies of his parents until he was satisfied. The hunger was still there but it was in the background and did not require urgent attention. Finished with his meal Riche collapsed on the bloodstained bed and everything went black.
The dawn chorus woke the fox. He was in his bedroom and everything looked just as it had when he had gone to bed. There was no strange purple aura to the room and his trousers were draped over the back of his chair just as they were when he had undressed ready for slumber.
“Wow,” he muttered to himself. “That was an intense dream.” He wiped his forehead with the back of his paw. They both felt matted and sticky. Looking at his paws he could see they were covered in blood. He pulled back his bedsheets to see they were also stained with blood. He checked himself all over to see if the blood was his. The colour almost drained out of his fur when he realised that he was fine and uninjured. In a panic he ran to the kitchen looking for the knife. It was where his mother had left it the night before, clean and free from blood.
Running into his parent’s bedroom he saw the two figures that used to be his parents. They lay in a bloody mess in the bed. Their bodies were almost unrecognisable due to the savagery they had suffered. The sight triggered something in the young fox, however. Instead of feeling sorrow or worry he instead felt the hunger and lust for power return. The wretched scene was not of a tragedy, but one of victory. Defeat over those who had looked down and oppressed him. And there were still many others out there who had caused him pain. Enemies who were still walking, talking, and enjoying their life. He would see to that. They would pay for all the suffering they had caused him. With plots of death running through his mind the young fox went to take a shower to clean the blood from his body.
The Nightmare Fox had got him.