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Horace woke up, but not in the literal sense.
Opening his eyes, what laid before him was a vast void of nothingness. Bright white oblivion that could go on for seemingly miles, although Horace knew that there most likely no end. Not that he had ever tried to reach the end. He hadn’t the time to attempt such a possibility before being thrown into a horrific situation through the eyes of an innocent peculiar.
Horace sighed, and stood on what he considered to be the floor, despite the lack of anything. He had seen this place many times before. Almost routine, key word almost. His peculiarity seemed to tease him with the scheduling of his prophetic dreams and those of his normal dreams. He would go multiple nights in a row seeing torture, pain, and death, knowing the gruesomeness of it all would all eventually happen to someone he had no control in warning let alone saving, all to be broken by a night discussing different outfit textures like one of Miss Peregrine’s many history lessons. It was excruciating. At least with this never ending space he stood in, Horace knew it would be an, almost routine, average night for him. His prophetic dreams had always started in blank, like his subconscious was giving him time to prepare for whatever horrors may lay ahead. Now he could only wait.
He often spent this waiting time imagining what life he would be thrown into this time. He’ll admit, he has tried to hypothesize a pattern of the types of people he gets in a dream a few times over the years only to be proven severely wrong. He would also admit that this was less than intelligent. He’s known that there is no certainty to any part of his peculiarity, and anything he along with Miss Peregrine have tried to research always ended up either with already acquired facts and knowledge or a dead end. It had gotten to the point where Horace dreaded having to be with Miss P to do this so called “research”. He slightly laughed to himself. Oh, what he would do now to be with Miss P doing this so called research. He thought about his physical body, how it laid in an unpleasant bed, the walls surrounding it rotten, and the very place the building resided in ridden with a disgusting must and eerie atmosphere. It made him think, much to his shock, how he would much rather be here in the nothing than in reality. He automatically felt selfish for thinking this way. No, this isn’t what he wanted. What he really wants is things to be the way they once were. Back in his not by any means perfect home in Cairnholm within his not by any means perfect loop with his not by any means perfect loopmates. At least there he would have a change of clothes. He thought back once again to his body, physically shuddering. He hated wearing suits to bed. Alas, the only other options…he would rather not think about.
Wait a minute, Horace realized. Where was the dream? He can’t remember ever waiting this long for a dream to start. Perhaps when, or as much as he hated to admit, IF, they make it through this real life tragedy they were living in, he would mention it to Miss Peregrine. This could possibly lead them down a new path. Maybe they would actually find something noteworthy. That made him smile solemnly. He wishes he could say he looked forward to it. Yet, the more days he spent in Devil's Acre, the less confident he felt about this war ending positively. No one would show or say that they felt the same way, but it is quite easy to see on just about everyone. It was almost comforting knowing he wasn’t the only one in this mindset. That did make him curiously wonder who he believes is the best at putting on a persona. Honestly, he just needed anything to distract him from the dream that hadn’t started yet. He would say most likely Bronwyn, putting on a brave act for the likes of Claire and Olive. Emma’s high on the list too. Jacob. Enoch.
Suddenly, Horace felt something. A slight breeze. Not hot, but not quite chilly either. Finally, he thought. He was getting weirdly worried. Seems that a dream WILL happen, and he will be thrown into a situation where he feels the agony and despair of a fellow peculiar and will wake up in a panicked cold sweat, possibly crying, possibly screaming. Stupendous. Why was he worried about a dream not happening again? Regardless, there wasn’t much time left for him to think anyways. The breeze continued to blow, and he felt what he could only describe as blades of grass swaying against his pants calf down. He began to hear sounds of birds, and perhaps a distant shore? Interestingly, he was still in the white void. Alright, Horace was worried again. Had something happened to his peculiarity? Is there a problem with it? With HIM?? He swiveled his head around, looking for a sign of anything amongst the vastness. Nothing. Then, he heard something he hadn’t expected to hear. Laughing. Muffled laughter. Not just any laughing, it sounded young. Children’s laughter. Horace decided to stare straight ahead. Perhaps the dream would unfold in front of him? Yes, that is very logical and has totally happened before.
Then out of nowhere, he’s being pulled along forward by his wrist. Something had grabbed him. At first, Horace tried to pull away. But, he quickly figured out that this something was a someONE. He could feel the fingers of a hand wrap around his arm, not forcefully, but gently; no, he wasn’t being pulled anywhere by someone of a threat. A someone that he still could not see. Growing annoyed but relieved at his assumption of this unknown individual, he let himself be pulled by the invisible force, all the while feeling the continuous breeze brush against him and hearing the birds tweet amongst the soft laughter of youth. It was somewhat pleasant. Of course, this tranquility was swiftly interrupted by the someone in front of him talking, and Horace could once again only assume that the someone was directing their dialogue towards him. However, the talking was unintelligible, being so muffled that even syllables were hard to make out. At this point, Horace was quite finished with this dream, and it hadn’t even started yet! He decided to keep letting whoever walk him wherever and talk about who knew what. He closed his eyes, and took a deep breath in, and out.
.~
“...-nd we wouldn’t want that, would we? Haha!”
Horace opened his eyes. He gasped, almost screamed, and quickly pulled his arm out of his grip.
Enoch turned around and stared at him, a slight grin mixed with confusion on his face.
“Ha..,uh, everything alright there?”
Horace breathed heavily. What? Enoch? No, his dreams never included people he knew. At the minimum, people he knew well. What was Enoch doing here? Where is here?!
Horace looked around, whipping his head frantically. To the sides of him were tall, vast trees, almost in full bloom. Behind him lay a nice stone and dirt path, leading down somewhere Horace couldn’t see. All familiar. Very familiar.
“Horace, mate, are you alright? Were you having a nightmare over there or what?”
Horace? Like, Horace Somnusson? Himself?! He looked down at his hands. Undoubtedly his. No, he’s never himself. This never happens. None of this ever happens! He looked back to Enoch, with what he could only think was a panicked expression from the way Enoch’s face contorted into something more sympathetic.
“Gad. Okay, what happened? It was a nightmare, wasn’t it? If you need to talk about right here then go ahead, we aren’t in any rush. I was just getting us out of the sun you know. Not good to sleep in if you ask me, but somehow you managed that.”
“No, what? I- it, um..” Horace started, but he couldn’t finish his sentence. He glanced behind Enoch, and what lay in the distance made him realize why this place felt so familiar. It was Carinholm. Miss Peregrine’s house. His home.
The house looked beautiful. Much nicer than it ever had. From as far as the two children were, it appeared that there wasn’t a scratch on it. The paint, fresh and a different shade than it had been before, the windows, uncracked; the house practically sparkled. Horace couldn’t help but gawk at it. Everything suddenly clicked for him: Carinholm, the house, Enoch…they would make it back. They would make it back alive.
He could see the somewhat amused, somewhat bewildered expression on Enoch from his peripheral vision. He finally pulled his gaze away from the old but very new structure and turned his attention back to Enoch, putting on a bashful, and forced, smile.
“Oh, yes Enoch, I am alright. Ah…I did have a nightmare, but I uh, I can’t remember it anymore.”
“Are you sure? ‘Cause you’re acting strange. Stranger than usual that is,” he smirked, but there was a flash of concern behind it.
“Positively!” Horace blurted out, perhaps too aggressively. Enoch, still grinning, squinted his eyes at him, like he was trying to read his thoughts. Horace decided to take this time to truly look at him. How he hadn’t seen the huge scar covering half of his face until now, he couldn’t tell you. It covered the majority of Enoch’s right cheek, coming to an end just above his lip. There was also a smaller but still clearly visible one on the left side of his forehead, stopping next to his eye. But, Horace could’t help to notice that besides these apparent injuries, Enoch looked…healthy. Happy. His eye bags were lighter than usual, clay and dirt didn’t cover every surface of his body, and there was something different in his eyes. A glint that Horace hadn’t seen from him in a very long time.
“So,” Enoch started. Horace quickly adjusted to make it less obvious he had been staring.
“I don’t believe you. Not in the slightest. But, it’s clear you don’t wanna talk about it, so I’ll let it go.”
Okay, Horace can play along with this. Yes, he didn’t want to talk about it is all. He would much rather be talking about when the house had been rebuilt, when they made it back to Carinholm, how the war had ended, and a series of other questions, but alas, Horace knew better. He sighed, looking back at Enoch.
“Thank you, Enoch.”
“Tch, whatever,” Enoch rolled his eyes, slightly embarrassed. Horace would admit, this Enoch was more open about showing concern than his present Enoch. But, he’s still Enoch. Horace smiled.
“Come on now, you promised me you’d help stitch up some of the torn homunculi outfits- uniforms! Uniforms. I meant uniforms.” Enoch twisted back around, continuing to walk up the path closer towards the house. Horace figured he wanted him to follow, and as of now, figured he should. It was strange to once again walk this path. Horace felt it had been so long, so much longer than it truly had been for sure, right? He glanced down at the path underneath him, recognizing some of the pebbles that lined it. He also noticed he had dawned a new suit. It was a classic style he knew and loved, but in a light brown color. The sleeves of his jacket and button up had been rolled up to just below his elbows, and his tie was replaced with a tan and orange-ish hued tartan patterned bow tie. If you had asked him about this choice before this dream, he would have scoffed at the idea. But honestly? It didn’t look bad at all.
“Hullo Horace! Would you join us, pleeeease?”
Horace’s thoughts were quickly torn away by the sound of a familiar voice. Scanning his right, he saw what appeared to be a tea party. Various dolls lined the sides of the checkered blanket lying in the shaded grass, a nice but clearly worn teapot sat in the middle, and sitting opposite of one another were two girls, Emma and Claire.
Bird, they both looked so happy. Emma sat with a small but meaningful smile on her face, with one of the many much too tiny teacups wrapped within her pointer finger. He noticed what appeared to be burns on her hand and wrists. She had already been overusing her peculiarity that’s for sure, and he knew she would continue to, thus most likely being the perpetrator of the markings. Scaring aside, nothing else seemed out of place. Her sandy hair sat nicely curled just on her shoulders, her hazel eyes shined. She was wearing a dress printed with small pink flowers, lace lining the sleeves and hem of it. Horace knew that it was most likely picked out by Claire specifically for their time together. Claire on the other hand wore a light blue dress, much to the surprise of Horace. It appeared he wasn’t the only one changing up his style; he couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen Claire wear blue. Despite the color, the dress was still poofy and frilly, just how Claire liked it. She had a large white bow sitting pretty on top of her large golden curls, her blue eyes full of excitement.
“Horace, are you quite alright?” Emma asked. Horace realized he was staring again.
“Ah, yes Emma, apologies,” he said while nodding.
“Good to hear. As you heard, Claire would like it if you could sit and have a cup of tea with us?”
Horace, on the verge of answering, was stopped short by Enoch.
“Sorry Em, he’s actually busy at the moment.”
“Really? Seems he ACTUALLY isn’t doing much but walking, AT THE MOMENT,” Emma teased.
Another eye roll from Enoch. “Oh, my bad, I wasn’t specific enough for you. He is GOING to be busy. With me. He’s coming with me.”
“Awww, is this true Horace?” Claire asked, with almost pleading eyes.
Horace stifled a laugh. He bent down to her level. “Yes Claire, I need to go help Enoch with…outfits.”
“UNIFORMS!” He heard Enoch scoff and Emma laugh to the left of him.
“But uh..I haven’t much going on when I am finished. If you would want to do something then, I would gladly be up for it,” Horace smiled at her. He was relieved to see her smile widely back.
“Oh goodie! That sounds perfect! That gives me and Emma enough time to finish up our tea party. Besides, Miss Lucille was still finishing up her story, isn’t that right Lucille?” She glanced at one of her dolls.
Horace chuckled. “Oh you will have to tell me all about Miss Lucille’s story. Come and find me in a bit, okay?”
“Okay Horace!” He stood up, looking back towards Enoch and the path.
“Alright, continue to lead the way.”
“Finally,” said Enoch, yet a small grin plastered his face.
“I’ll be seeing you around Horace, don’t let this one work you too hard,” Emma remarked. Enoch stuck his tongue out at her. She did so back.
“Goodbye Emma, goodbye Claire,” Horace waved and smiled at them. Claire shouted a goodbye back while waving wildly, and Emma giggled and politely waved back. He turned towards the path and had to speed walk a bit to catch up to Enoch, who had departed some seconds before him.
Emma and Claire. It was good to see them as themselves once again. The more this dream went on, the more Horace couldn't wait for this day to come. However, it occurred to him that he wouldn’t know when it would. He didn’t know how much longer their peculiarium war would last, or how long after the war this day would take place. He could only hope it would be over soon.
He decided to stop thinking about the real present and to take in what lied before him. A positive prophetic dream like this was rare. Honestly, he can’t remember the last time he’s ever HAD a positive prophetic dream! Was this the first? He wouldn't be surprised. This dream was full of firsts. He took a deep breath in. He could smell the familiarity of the coast and the sweetness that always lingered around the house due to the many plants and flowers in bloom. Hm. Did it seem a bit more floral than usual?
Horace was once again brought back to the real world when he heard laughter coming from somewhere to the left of him. Laughter he recognized. He figured this would be a common theme throughout this dream. He smiled to himself before turning to look, excited to see the familiar face. As suspected, it was Hugh. His bees were buzzing around him rapidly, presumably excited by the bush of dog roses he was standing next to. His goggles were placed on his head, showing that his eyes were bright and full of joy. He appeared happier than he ever has been, especially compared to his current time counterpart. It was nice to see him like this again, Horace thought. Then another person emerged from behind the bush. Horace audibly gasped.
Enoch heard and swiveled around somewhat annoyed.
“What is it now??” He looked where Horace was, and his annoyed demeanor turned to that of a saddened joy.
“Still shocking to see her sometimes, isn’t it?”
Fiona. It was her. It was really her. Her hair long and combed in a perfect mess like it always had been. Her dress patched in places and buttoned at the top. Her hands dirt covered. Her eyes large, shining honey hazel. She was here. She was alive.
Horace had to physically stop himself from running over and crying. He knew he couldn’t cause a scene like that. Enoch had already been suspicious of something, he couldn’t let practically the whole island know he’s not TRULY here. He whirled his head away and took some deep breaths, composing himself. When he gazed back, Hugh had Fiona’s hand in his. He looked as if he could practically float away with giddy and glee. Fiona smiled sweetly at him. They simply stared into eachothers eyes, holding hands, appearing more in love with each second that passed. They deserved this.
Horace heard Enoch groan but quickly snicker after. Hugh and Fiona both broke eye contact to look at him. Hugh rolled his eyes playfully, and Fiona shook her head with an exaggerated “angry” expression on her face. It was only then that Hugh noticed Horace.
“Oi, hullo Horace!” He turned and waved at him, Horace giving a quick wave back. Fiona turned as well. She locked eyes with Horace. He noticed now that she faced him the small scars spreading outwards from the corners of her mouth. He could only imagine what had happened to her. He could only imagine what WAS happening to her at this moment, in reality. She smiled at him with a calmness on her face and gave him a small wave. On the brink of tears, Horace smiled widely and waved back. All that truly mattered was that she was alive and well.
“Okay, c’mon now, I know all about it but we have THINGS to attend to!” Enoch declared as he was already walking back up the path. Horace watched for a few more seconds as Hugh and Fiona went onto their activities that seemed to consist of staring, laughing, and the occasional flower growing before once again having to catch up.
“You know,” Enoch started as Horace approached, “you’ve been awfully quiet this whole lot, and everytime you see someone it’s like you hadn’t seen them in a millennium.” He was looking over his shoulder back at him before fully turning to face him, now walking backwards. “You sure you’re alright? Nothing to talk ‘bout?”
“Nothing of a sorts,” Horace responded, hoping it sounded confident. He was surprised it had taken this long for Enoch to comment on his behavior. He thought perhaps he was doing a convincing job of acting casual. After his performance with Hugh and Fiona however, it was now apparent he was not.
“Hm,” Enoch squinted at Horace again, this time chewing his top lip. Horace can’t remember Enoch ever doing that before. It must have been a new habit he picked up sometime. He couldn’t help but smirk.
“What. What is it?” Enoch grumbled, but he also couldn’t help the smile forming on his face.
“Oh nothing, I just-”
“WATCH OUT!”
Horace heard a shout before watching Enoch stumble over something behind him and fall to his back.
“Bloody Hell, seriously?!”
“Sorry!”
Turning his attention from the now sitting up, now agitated Enoch, Horace saw three more of his fellow peculiars. It was Millard, Jacob, and somewhat surprisingly, Noor. He figured she would have joined them, but he could never be quite sure about it until now. Also somewhat surprisingly, Millard was wearing clothes. Perhaps it was for Noor’s comfort.
“Horace, hello! Wasn’t sure where you had wandered off to. Could you fetch us our ball please?”
Ah, that had to have been what Enoch tripped over. Horace glanced around before noticing the football a short ways up left of the path.
“Ah leave it! Let them get it, almost killed me with the damn thing…” Enoch muttered, standing up.
“Hey, not our fault you were walking backwards,” said Jacob with a chuckle.
“Mi mi meh, not our fault you- whatever, Portman.”
“Wow, I do not sound like that.”
“Ehhh you sorta do, that imitation wasn’t half bad,” Horace heard Noor say before he walked up to retrieve the ball. He heard Enoch cackling behind him, Jacob’s voice attempting to defend himself being drowned out by the loudness and the addition of Noor’s laughter. Horace couldn’t help but also laugh at the chaos of it all while reaching down, grabbing the ball. Walking back, he could see a pair of floating khakis and a maroon knitted sweater standing away from the ensuing battle of madness, arguments, and taunts. Millard had never been good at back and forth banter unless it had facts and logic involved.
“Here you are,” Horace had to say a bit louder than normal with the bickering some steps away.
“Ah, thank you mate,” replied Millard, taking back the ball. “I was just in the middle of learning ball keep up techniques from Noor before…this. Apparently she played football on the, um, YNCE team? YMCA? Eugh, a random collection of letters team.”
“Interesting.”
“Indeed. Oh how I yearn to study the modern world. I am excited for the day Miss P lets us use the Panloopticon to travel into the 21st century.”
Oh. Yes, the Panloopticon…it had been working in full again? They would be allowed to use it?? They could travel to different loops?! There had been so much more to the future than Horace had ever dreamed of, quite literally and figuratively. A world where they were able to travel freely to different loops set in different times in different places. Who would have ever thought! He was already imagining the possibilities.
“Of course,” Horace answered. He knew he couldn’t pry, as much as he severely wanted to. He told himself that eventually, at some point, he would find out.
“Noor you’re supposed to be on my side!!”
“And who said that?”
“You’d really be on his side more than mine?!”
“Seems that way, doesn’t it, Portman?”
Horace, and presumably Millard due to the shuffling of the clothes, turned to inspect the hubbub. Enoch at this point was practically doubled over, his hand clutching his side. Noor was wrapped up in a giggle fit. Jacob sat between the two of them, staring at Noor with, at first, a very real betrayed look on his face before contorting it to a sarcastic frown.
“I cannot believe this,” Jacob said as he draped his hand over his forehead. “After all I have done for you, this is how you repay me? Siding with this TWERP?!”
“ExCUSE you!”
Jacob was laughing now, and despite the distasteful comment directed toward him, Enoch seemed not to truly mind it and continued to laugh alongside him and Noor. A comment like that from Jacob in the present would have had real meaning to it. A comment like that from Jacob in the present would have made Enoch say something worse back. Horace sighed at the thought, and smiled lightly. He was glad their relationship would be getting better.
“Gosh, bumbling idiots they are,” Millard remarked with a snort. “After we calm the scene, would you like to join us for a game? You could learn a thing or two from Noor, bird knows you need to, ha!”
Horace rolled his eyes. “Afraid I cannot at the moment. Enoch needs my help with some repairs that require sew and stitch. I’ll actually be the one teaching him something, bird knows he needs it.”
Millard laughed loudly at that, and Horace couldn’t help but laugh back.
“Alright then, I’ll let you two get to it. As soon as you can stop him from tearing into poor Jacob, that is.” Being seen by the sleeve of his sweater, Millard gave Horace a small gesture goodbye, Horace doing the same back over his shoulder. As he approached, he noticed Jacob had stopped laughing, and was now fake crying into his hands rather dramatically.
“I saved peculiarium for THIS kind of treatment?!”
“Ok, haven’t you two had enough fun prodding?” Horace asked, shaking his head.
Jacob looked up at him and let out a deep sarcastic breath. Only then did Horace notice the large scars covering the majority of his face and neck. It was terrible. A scar running right through his eye, more down around the sides of his cheeks, and two almost meeting in the middle of his throat. Horace knew that his face read pained and hurt, but luckily for him, Jacob was engulfed in making an act too much to notice.
“Oh Horace! Thank goodness you are here! I am not sure how much more I could take,” Jacob proclaimed, putting his hands on Horace’s shoulders. “Here you two, pick on him instead!” He spun him and Horace around, leaving Horace standing in his old spot.
“Hey!” Horace laughed, shocked. “Didn’t I just attempt to HELP you?”
“And you are!” Jacob playfully winked.
“Oh, this is too easy. I could make fun of Horace in my sleep.”
“HA! Okay,” Horace said, turning to face Enoch. He grinned slyly. “It seems you don’t want my help with making your little outfits for you to play dress up with your little dolls.” He shrugged.
Enoch gaped at him. Noor oohed beside him. Jacob snorted from somewhere behind the three of them.
“Ha.” Enoch smiled with gritted teeth. He hated when his activities with his homunculi were referred to as play things, he always had. Horace had somewhat shocked himself by remembering that.
“What?” he asked, trying to purposely sound overly sweet.
Enoch glared at him a few seconds, before finally letting out a loud sigh and shaking his head.
“Ugh. Touché Horace, touché.” Enoch looked at him smiling with a hint of annoyance to it; Horace knew he was upset he couldn’t think up any comeback to stack on top of his. He was surprised he hadn’t found anything to say back. This really WAS a good dream.
Horace decided to play it up a bit, smiling big and triumphantly before turning back to Jacob.
“It seems I have solved your problem. You’re welcome.”
Jacob laughed. “Oh Horace, you are too kind. But what about Noor?”
“Eh,” Noor picked up, “I join the side of whoever is being the coolest. Sorry, ‘noch.”
Enoch scoffed and turned away, embarrassed.
“Oh that is wonderful news,” said Jacob. “I can finally stop with this act I’ve been putting on, good Lord.”
Noor looked at him, amused. “What was up with all that anyway?”
Jacob slightly shrugged and lowered his eyes down bashfully. “Eh, to be honest, I’m not sure.”
“I’d say it added to the overall energy quite well.”
“Thank you,” Jacob bowed.
“Wow, ok, well thank bird I have apparently been “dethroned”, you would be absolutely slammed for that.” Enoch had chipped in and rolled his eyes.
“Sounds like jealousy to me.” Horace deadpanned.
“Wha- you can’t be- I- ha! Dammit, whatever Horace!” Enoch laughed dumbfoundedly. Noor and Jacob both joined in. Horace simply stood in the middle of the noise, smiling. Laughter had been such a great thing to hear once again. Laughter with his friends made it even better. Laughter with family.
“Alright alright, we better go find Millard. He could have the ball torn into bits and pieces by now, dissecting the rubber for all we know,” Jacob stated, only half joking. “We’ll see you two around yeah?”
“Hopefully not.”
“Okay Enoch,” Jacob rolled his eyes before throwing out a peace sign. What made it symbolize peace, Horace couldn't say. “See y’all!”
Noor tucked a strand of straight hair behind her ear, smiled at Horace and Enoch, and gave them a small wave before going off to follow Jacob. It was back to the two of them.
“Well,” Horace looked at Enoch, “shall we continue? We have outfits- excuse me, UNIFORMS, to work on.”
That earned him a light shove. “Fine, I guess. Jerk.” Enoch smirked before taking off up the path.
“What?!” Horace giggled, deciding to walk beside him instead of behind. “You started it! I thought you could make fun of me in your sleep, what happened?”
“Uuugh, Hell I don’t know. Only thing I do know is how much of a lucky sod you are, Somnusson!”
“Excuse me! You know what, maybe I actually will not help you, how about that?”
“Oh c’mon, take a joke!”
“You first!”
In the past, this would have spiraled into a real argument. In the present, it would have left both somewhat agitated. Here in the future, Enoch is laughing, barely able to spurt out conformed words, Horace right alongside him.
This was so nice. It FELT so nice. So right. How it should be. Laugher subsiding, Horace started to remember what awaited him when he woke up. How this wasn’t the reality he was currently in. He inhaled and let his breath draw out slowly. How much more would it take to get here? He glanced at Enoch. He was still laughing, in the middle of attempting to stop. It was strange to think about. This, ending. He knew it was inevitable. He didn’t know how soon or how quickly, but he would wake up. He had never thought about dreams like this. Most times, he subconsciously begged himself to rise from his slumber. This one he didn’t want to. He remembered his thought from before the dream, how he wished to stay in the false reality of this other world. He felt himself believing this once again.
No, he can’t. He can’t wish for this. He thought back to the others in real time, how they laid in their unpleasant beds, the walls surrounding them rotten, and the very place the building resided in ridden with a disgusting must and eerie atmosphere; just like him. All they had been through, all they have done, all they continue to do. He couldn’t leave them. Especially not when their future looks so bright. He couldn’t wait to see all of their real time reactions to coming back, to being back at the house, to being ALIVE. They had all neared death so many times over and over. He knew that, even farther into the future, they would be looking back on the days that they traversed through Hell and have a good laugh. No, he couldn’t leave them. He couldn’t leave them, ever. Nor would he ever want to.
Horace quickly wiped away the tears that had been forming around the edges of his eyes and glanced back at Enoch. It seemed he hadn’t noticed anything, casually walking in the comfortable silence with a slight smile. Thank bird; Horace didn’t know how he was getting away with all of this obvious unlikely behavior and emotions. Not that he could complain though.
Remembering where he was, Horace looked up. They were quickly approaching the house, it now being fully in view with no more tree obstructions. It was even nicer up close. He liked the renovations that had been done to the place.
There was then a sudden high pitched scream. Loud. Oh God, Horace thought, had this whole dream been for nothing? This is it, this is the part where something terrible happens. But why here? Why now?! What could possibly be happening now!? Who was-
The thoughts that raced through Horace’s head were quickly subsided after manically scanning the area in the direction of the scream. He sighed a big sigh of relief before laughing to himself. He could never NOT be on edge in a dream, even with ones as joyous as this.
It had been Olive that screamed, but not from pain or worry, but from excitement. She had one of her large metal shoes placed by a large rock that had a rope tied to it, her tiara sitting on top. Following the rope, Horace peered up to see the other end tied around her waist. Oh. She was high in the sky. Emphasis on high. The other shoe still clung to her small foot, making her slowly float down. She was giggling uncontrollably now, her long hair levitating around her somewhat majestically. Waiting for her at the bottom was Bronwyn. Hands on her hips, she was looking up at her smiling, a soft laughter under her breath. She had a bit of worry to her expression. Even with a rope tied securely around her and a heavy shoe pulling her down, Bronwyn’s maternal instincts towards the little one were on edge.
When Olive was low enough to the ground, Bronwyn scooped her up and held her in her arms. Olive started laughing, looking Bronwyn in the eyes. Horace decided to eavesdrop on their conversation, feeling somewhat impolite but more curious as to how Olive had gotten to such an elevated distance. But, Enoch had already taken a few steps closer to listen. He seemed curious as well. That made him feel…less bad.
“Again! Again! Pleeease?”
“Oh, I don’t know..” Bronwyn started, “I uh, I am rather tired, haha…”
A stubborn frown formed on Olive’s face. Bronwyn had never been a good liar.
“You aren’t tired! You’re just worried. It’ll be fiiiine, I still have one of my shoes on!”
“Ha, yes, you got me there.”
“Soooo, again?”
Horace could see Bronwyn look up and tilt her head like she was thinking.
“Fine fine, only once more, okay?”
Olive copied her by also looking up into the air, an exaggerated thinking look on her face.
“How about…a COUPLE more times!”
“You are so hard to say no to, you know that?” Bronwyn said as she lightly tickled the girl, who once again started to giggle uncontrollably, this time with Bronwyn joining in. It had been a long time since Horace had seen the two of them like this. Although now that he thought about it, he had been thinking that about everyone. These two in particular had such a bond however, that them being their sweet cheerful selves once again felt extra special. He couldn’t help but smile widely at the scene.
“Ok, ready?”
“Yes!”
Horace watched as Bronwyn bent her knees down a bit before suddenly releasing Olive, throwing her into the air. Olive screamed just as she did before, flying up into the sky like she had been released from a slingshot. Her momentum began to slow only when she appeared as a vaguely human shaped dot amongst the clouds. No wonder Bronwyn had been so worried.
“Woah,” he heard Enoch mutter next to him. “Huh. I didn’t know Bronwyn had it in her to do something like that.” He sounded impressed.
“Neither did I,” Horace stood there with slight shock. He let loose a breath he didn’t know he was holding when it was confirmed Olive had started to float down.
“We’ll have to see how far she can chuck Jacob into the ocean.”
Horace rolled his eyes. “Because she would definitely do that for you.”
“Don’t act like other people wouldn’t want to see that.”
“They do not.”
“You’re no fun.”
“Unbelievable,” Horace sighed as Enoch snickered next to him. He decided to quickly turn and start walking the path again, this time leaving Enoch playing catch up. Perhaps at this point he was having too much fun in this dream. But at this point he couldn’t care less. He had accepted that, although this would end, it would once again occur, only for real. Soon.
“Oh, by the way, when we get inside we need to keep the noise to a minimum,” stated Enoch. “Miss P and Miss Cuckoo are in the middle of a meeting of sorts in their office, I’m not sure on details so don’t ask.”
Miss Peregrine…he wished he could see her now. She was in a meeting? With Miss Cuckoo? Yes, one of the other ymbrynes they had met…THEIR office. Interesting, Horace thought. That implied she would be living alongside them. Two headmistresses? Seemed a little scary, he would admit. He wasn’t used to this other ymbryne. He figured he would quickly get used to it. They would get a chance to properly get acquainted after Caul was gone.
Horace hadn’t known he was lost in thought until he stumbled over, barely catching himself from tripping. He regained his balance before focusing on where he was stepping. There was a set of stairs.
“Aw, I was really hoping you’d nail your face into the planks, HAHA!”
Ignoring the witty remark, Horace looked up from the steps, realizing what they were connected to. It was the house. Colorful flower beds lined the sides leading to the stairs, the windows gleamed, the bricks a natural dark red. He could say for certain now, it truly was beautiful. More than that, it was here.
“Horace I swear if you stop one more time.”
Horace broke his trance and saw Enoch at the top of the stairs, arms folded. He appeared unamused, but Horace had noticed a common trait in him throughout this whole vision: he always had the faintest smile on his face. He didn’t know if it had been happening subconsciously this entire time, but nonetheless, it had been more than Enoch ever smiled in a day. It only added to the brightness of this future.
“Apologies. I…” Horace figured it was far past time to come up with some sort of explanation as to his actions thus far. He decided to be honest. “I simply can’t believe we are here.”
Enoch stared at him for a moment before walking back down the stairs. He stood next to Horace and, just as he had, inspected the house, taking it in. Horace couldn’t help the confusion on his face. He decided to take the time to also continue observing the house, all while taking occasional peeks at Enoch as they stood together in silence for what seemed like minutes. It continued to drag on, until Horace believed it really had been minutes. He continued to stand there and stare at the ground, waiting for something, ANYTHING, until he heard Enoch next to him chuckle. He quickly turned to stare at him, watching him look anywhere but in his direction. He was chewing his top lip, holding in a grin.
Horace finally registered what was going on.
“You’re doing this on purpose.”
Enoch started to wheeze next to him, laughing between breaths. Horace groaned loudly.
“I should have known better. You were being too quiet.”
“Ha! How does it feel to wait awkwardly?”
“THAT’S what this was about?! You’re kidding me! Bugger off!” He bumped into Enoch’s shoulder as he continued to laugh. How petty of him. Although he couldn’t have known this was indeed his first time being back, can a man NOT admire everything he had ever loved being alive and well?! Despite this, as much as he tried not to, he couldn't help but start to laugh at his own expense. Shocking.
“Ok ok, whatever, yes I get it. You didn’t have to come down here just to prove a point, idiot.”
“I know, I felt like it,” Enoch said, shrugging.
“Of course you did.” He rolled his eyes, casting his gaze elsewhere. The flowers flowed in the breeze rather nicely.
“As much as I’d like to say it was, that isn’t the only reason I came down.”
Horace, somewhat surprised, focused his attention back on Enoch. He raised an eyebrow at him.
“I…wow, eugh, can’t believe I’m admitting something like this.” He laughed slightly, peering down at the ground before looking back up at Horace with a wistful smile.
“I sometimes can’t believe it either.”
Horace had a revelation. Enoch. He had gone through so much more than Horace, had seen so much more, had been bloody kidnapped and separated from the group leaving him to escape on his own in an unknown location for bird’s sake! Oh God. Emma. Jacob. Fiona, and Millard, and Bronwyn and practically everyone else aside from himself and Claire. They had gone off when Horace had stayed behind numerous times. He had never truly thought about that until now. Yes, they all could have died. But some of them could have died more times than others. Horace couldn't help but glance down at the large scar across Enoch’s face. He thought back to the scars on Fiona. The scars on Emma. The scars completely covering Jacob. He imagined each of their thoughts, the amount of times they had thought that it was the end for not only others, but for themselves. He imagined how many more times they would think this.
They had done things that risked their lives.
They would continue to in the present.
Who’s to say everything had worked in their favor.
Then unexpectedly, he felt arms wrap around him. Horace blinked. Only then did he feel the tears running down his face. He tried to stop, but he quickly gave up. This had been a long dream of emotions. What was normally terror, normally sadness, had been a feeling of overjoy to the point of pain. Although, the pain didn’t hurt. It was reassuring, made him think about things he hadn’t before. No, this pain was…good. And Horace decided to let this pain take over. Just for now.
He returned Enoch’s embrace, softly crying over his shoulder. He couldn’t remember the last time he hugged someone. Bird, he couldn't remember EVER hugging Enoch of all people. It was most interesting. He was definitely stiff, his little movements all robotic. Attempted comfort was better than none at all, thought Horace as he started to laugh through his sniffles.
“Aren't you a mess today? First you've seemed off all day, then now you were just crying, and suddenly you're laughing? You're so emotional, Somnusson,” Enoch remarked, but in a lighthearted tone.
Horace pulled back from the hold, slightly chuckling. “Sorry, I’m just…” He gestured to Enoch’s entirety. “This..is new. Since when have you been a hugger?”
“I’m not. Don’t think this is a permanent thing. If you mention this to anyone Horace I will make sure to put a collection of spiders in-”
“Stop, stop, I don’t want to hear it. I won’t, I wasn’t thinking of it.”
“That’s what I thought,” Enoch said smugly, yet his face had a sincere smile on it. “You..looked like you needed it though.”
“That’s very thoughtful of you.”
“Was that sarcastic?”
“No.”
“...”
“Perhaps a little.”
“I’m never comforting you again.”
“Ok wait, no,” Horace started, controlling his laughter. “I was only being a little, I promise. I truly appreciate it. I did need it. Thank you, Enoch.” He gave him an honest smile. He was happy to get one back.
“No problem, Horace.”
He almost teared up again. He took only a moment to reflect on not only Enoch, but everyone else he had seen. Yes, they all could have died. Yes, some of them could have died a few more times than others. But, they didn’t. They were here, and they were happy. Together.
“So, done stopping?”
Horace snorted, rolling his eyes. “Honestly, I’m not sure. I think I’m actually going to go back, talk to Bronwyn and Olive, maybe go see if Emma and Claire are done with their tea party, see what-”
“HA, oh BIRD no,” Enoch interrupted before grabbing his wrist, beginning to pull him up the stairs. “I have already seen enough of everyone today anyways.”
“Hey! I wasn’t actually going to go back!” Horace stated as they reached the top of the steps.
“Eh, wasn’t risking it,” Enoch stopped at the door, Horace’s wrist still in hand. He turned his head around and looked at him, smirking.
“Ready?”
Horace grinned. “Yeah.”
Enoch opened the door, leading Horace inside. He closed his eyes, and took a deep breath in, and out.
“As I said, until we get downstairs we’ll nee-”
~.
Horace woke up, but this time in the literal sense.
His eyes shot open, not used to the sudden silence. He was standing, his arm extended outwards. He scanned the room. He was back. Back in reality. The dream was over.
Horace sighed quietly, putting his arm down. He looked down at the floorboards, going through the events that had just happened short seconds ago. That really was their future? It had to have been, it couldn’t have been just a normal dream, right? He second guessed himself. Maybe his peculiarity had changed. Perhaps he suffered some sort of injury that manipulated the way his prophetic vs non prophetic dreams started. He then remembered his original worries before the dream and laughed quietly; he’d already thought about this. He glanced to the right of him. Enoch was asleep, somewhere under a large bundle of blankets and pillows. While the contrast wasn’t stark, there was a difference in many aspects of current Enoch and what the future held for him. He had changed, but had still stayed himself through it all. Horace smiled to himself before deciding to finally climb back into his own bed, tucking himself in before staring up at the ceiling. He thought about each one of his familiars one by one, in the order of how they appeared in his dream. They all had changed. But despite their fates of continuing torment for who can say how much longer, they would all manage to stay true to their natures.
Horace felt a tear roll down his face, yet he couldn’t stop the smile that formed on his lips. Things would be back to the way they once were. Back in his still not by any means perfect home in Cairnholm within his still not by any means perfect loop with his still not by any means perfect loopmates. Nothing was perfect. But the future looked better. Better than the past. Better than the present. Better than ever.
That was all he could ever ask for.