Dream or word?

The tears have long since stopped their helpless slide of the edge of a drooping chin. The pillow is stained. It is asleep, and dreaming of a nightmare. In this nightmare, a stunning young woman is speaking to it through a pane of glass that shows the inside of a giant oven. The information she seems to be trying to convey gets across in splotches, but the idea behind everything heard is that this girl, Evie, is being held here by the cruel something- ick- something, and he's taken it's memory, and that it's name is Silvereye, a valiant and well- feared something something young man. Silvereye loves Evie, and she loves him, and he has to come help her in her distress. Whatever he does, he cannot get caught by the worrls, who constantly watch for his return from the safe room he sleeps in to kill him.  A question is asked by silvereye, but the previously nonexistent roar of the furnace shatters his words and the girl is dragged away  as he looks on to, presumably, torture of some kind.

He wakes up calm, and begins to take inventory of his supplies for the quest he must undertake for his love. The (burlap?) bag he noticed earlier has two beat up journals, both worse for wear and crowded with pages. one says notes on the cover, and one says supplies. Supplies has lots of blank pages, although the first few pages have doodles drawn with remarkable detail, of everything from a band- aid to a sword made of ice to a huge mouse  to some food on a plate. Notes is full of writing, but it's all in a code of some  kind. All he can make out is refer to the box and, scribbled quite frantically on the margin of one page, which says go to the worrls. A girl in trouble who claims to be his love, or a note presumably written by him in his own journal: which to trust? The question on  his mind more pressingly, though, is how he reads print when he can't see. No matter; the pages will stay in both both books, and he will carry them, for now, with the hope of getting a third opinion on the worrls and maybe some explanation as to his predicament.

He walks past the threshold of his vaporised door, and stops dead.

The End

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