The island air rushed through palms as Calvin walked his dreamscape yet again. He felt the urge to explore this place, walking down well-tread paths between patches of tropical brush. It wasn’t a very large island, but it held more than a few secret places in farther from the shore. An energy deep within the island welcomed him, familiar yet unfamiliar. He let a comforting feeling overtake him as he continued down the path past the colorful flowers.

  Calvin came upon something rather odd, to his mind. A statue, carved in petrified wood. At the very center of his island paradise this statue stood plainly and proudly. A clearing had been made for it, by hands unknown to Calvin. Carved into the wood lay the visage of a woman with flowing hair reaching down to the ground.

  “Beautiful…” Calvin spoke to himself in a soft tone. He placed a hand on her cheek, trying hard to remember how he knew this face. It was so familiar to him, like a word on the tip of his tongue. He simply could not recall it, however.

  “I figured it out.” A deep voice called from behind, freezing the young Gun in place, “This is the Keys.”

  A chilling wave of fear hit Calvin. He found he couldn’t turn to face whatever had made the voice, but he had the distinct feeling that he knew who it was. The face on the statue may be lost to his memory, but the tall black man in the hat was not. He felt those yellow eyes burning a hole in the back of his head.

  The voice continued, “The Florida Keys, that’s it. I’d been wondering a while what this place was. It’s curious; I figured you’d go back to the St. John’s or something. There’s a little more to you than I thought.”

  The man behind him exuded a sickeningly playful attitude. Calvin found its flippancy unnerving. Unshakable confidence was not a quality one wanted to find in an intruder.

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  “What do you want?” Calvin scraped the words together with what little courage he could muster.

  “I told you many times already. I’m coming to get you. You’ve been called upon by the King. Oughta be honored.”

  The ocean breeze did not reach this far into the island, leaving the air still and heavy. This was Calvin’s true sanctuary, a place he now found as unsafe as the real world. Standing so close to this emissary of the dark forces which had marked him, Calvin felt completely vulnerable.

  “That’s pretty vague.” He breathed out, practicing the emotional regulation his teacher had emphasized, “What exactly do you want with me? Is it this mark?”

  The Coal Man clapped, “Bingo! Your mark is what makes you so special, among other things.”

  Calvin felt his presence draw nearer and nearer. Whatever delightful feeling the wooden statue had brought him before waned away. A long arm draped around Cal’s shoulder. The Coal Man leaned over him, imparting that smoky stench.

  “You see, bud, our King’s presence is split into they call the Aspects. Different personalities which he has given to this plane of existence, well may not THIS one, but the real world, ya know?”

  The young gun did not answer him.

  “Back a long time ago, our priest imparted that mark on you so you’d cultivate an Aspect of the King. We weren’t able to recover you, but you’re here regardless.”

  “There’s something inside me?” Calvin’s breathing raced, his anxiety taking flight, “Something has possessed me?”

  The demon snickered, “No nothing that crude. When I come get you, we will foster the Aspect of our King together. You will create the Aspect, grow it from within you.”

  “I… I won’t…” Calvin shook, “I won’t do it…”

  “A valiant stance, I’ll hand it to ya. But it’s too late, bud. You already started.”

  The Coal Man took his arm off of Calvin, placing a hand on the statue as he paced. A black dust coated that shapely face carved into the petrified wood.

  “You’ll make for an excellent Aspect of the King.” Yellow eyes flashed brightly, blinding the young Gun before them.

  Calvin woke with a gasp, sitting up in his tent. His shoulder complained with a dull ache. The night had yet to be lifted by the sun, but he felt he couldn’t go back to sleep.

  The smoky smell of the Coal Man still filled his nose. Eyes traveling to Buster, he decided it was best to keep his dreams to himself.