He sat up with a gasp, eyes wide open.  The darkness in the room was so complete, he could see absolutely nothing.  His eyes rolled wildly as he groped around blindly, trying to ascertain his whereabouts.  A warm lump lay next to him and it stirred when his hand fell on it.  His ears caught the muffled, quizzical mutter of a woman, which confused him more.

 

"Laureen?" he croaked, searching for her face and nearly poking her eye out with his fingers.  She grabbed his wrist and held his hand slightly away from her.

 

"What is it?  Who do you speak of?" she asked in a voice clouded with sleep.  Shon froze.  It was not Laureen.

 

"What the--?"  He drew away and tried to get out of the bed.  He cried out when he stubbed his heels on the hard floor.  The bed was far too low to be his.  Had Lenny played some sick joke on him?  That had to be it, he decided.  Just Lenny's idea of a good prank.  He'd strangle him once he got out of this mess.

 

"What troubles you?" the woman's voice questioned from the darkness.

 

"Where's the light?" he demanded, brushing off her concern.  He got shakily to his feet and proceeded to feel around for the light switch.  It wasn't a painless process, since there were so many obstacles in the way; he was sure he had been tossed into a tool shed.  An encounter with a wall proved that the bed was on the opposite side of the room than the one in his own bedroom.  He muttered a curse and righted himself, fumbling in the dark with a bureau.  When her hand grabbed his arm, he nearly leaped out of his skin.  He hadn't heard her coming at all.  She leaned over to the other side of him to speak, which he found both disturbing and annoying.

 

"Sit down, Neas," she coaxed.  "It was only a bad dream.  Come back to bed and sleep."  He pulled away from her with a grunt.

 

"Where's the light?" he snapped again.  "I can't see a thing!"  She suddenly pressed a pole into his palm.  Running his fingers along its smooth surface, he could make out carvings in it.

 

"Here," she said, "your staff."

 

"Staff?  Funny, real funny," he snarled.  "Come on, the joke's over.  Throw the light and let's all laugh about the prank, alright?  I need to get home and go to sleep."

 

"Neas, I have a candle here," she murmured.

 

"Where?  I don't see any candle."  She grabbed his hand and guided it in the darkness.  Heat savagely licked at his finger and he flinched away.  At first, he was going to sneer and tell her that was just some heated object, but he paused.  Hadn't he been taught that light produced heat?  If he had felt heat, why couldn't he see any light?  Instinctively, he grabbed at his face, but the feeling of his fingers on his eyelids proved that he wore no blindfold.  Horror washed over him.

 

"What's going on?" he gulped in a soft voice.  "Why can't I see?"

 

"Neas--"

 

"What's wrong with my eyes?!" he nearly shouted.  "What the hell have you done to me?!"

 

"Neas--"

 

"Stop calling me that!"  He rubbed at his eyes frantically, trying to pull off whatever veil had been pulled over them, but no amount of rubbing or scratching brought any light to his sight.  She grabbed his hands finally and shook them firmly as a mother would shake her child's arms to make them cease their antics.

 

"It was only a dream," she stated firmly.  "Now be still!  You are awake now; you have returned to the present where you have no eyes by which to see."  His legs went numb; he shook his head in disbelief.

 

"No.  No way," he muttered.  "This is just a bad dream."  She only sighed and, after a long pause, led him by the arm back to bed.  He nearly tripped over it, landing hard on the lumpy mattress.  Confused and in shock, he curled up and tried to force himself to wake up.  The night--or was it morning?--wore on.  Hours passed.  Exhausted and quite bruised, he slipped into a fitful sleep.