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Posted by The Sandman (Jewel) on 6/17/2008, 3:30 pm
70.235.16.238
The Sandman
Possession
“Voices trapped in yearning, memories trapped in time the night is my companion and solitude my guide.”-Sarah McLachlan
I have found myself on the cusp of true enlightenment, as I have become viable on two different timelines. I wake in 1938 just as I sleep seventy years into the future thanks to a run in with a time traveler. Time has pushed everything forward except for me I remain stalwart with basically the same problem in both years. I have no clue what to do. I’m lost. I’ve revealed my secret life to Dian as The Sandman but stopped short of what truly was nagging my conscience: I did something unforgivable. I’m aware of the forgiveness and mercy of God but a woman’s heart was something far more fickle. I smile briefly needing a brief respite with levity but seriously I did something atrocious. My visions led me to a showdown with her brother, Richard, who without any qualms murdered infants. I used an untried weapon, a type of nerve agent intended to cause paralysis by fear, which caused him nothing short of total madness. I see his features distorted screaming over and over when I should be sleeping and then the visions come again…I’m lost…
The future leaves me just as lost though in slightly less bleak circumstances. I was taken to a sort of flying fortress which is less an aircraft and more of a city in the sky. I have no idea why my visions have led me here and for what purpose by I remain open to the will of God. The nominal leader here is named White Wolf and his troops are confusingly dressed in white cat suits and work in coffee shops. The future is a strange place indeed…
Wesley Dodds paced the carpeted floors barefoot clad in only his silk pajama pants and an open robe. He tried desperately to sleep but nothing would come to him only Richard Belmont’s screams from another time, another place. There wasn’t even a vision to give him something, anything. Nothing: that was all he had save for Belmont’s terror stricken cries. Dian was asleep in his room but he scarcely could look at her since he told her about being The Sandman. Was this his punishment for not confessing everything to her? Should he have told her about her brother’s crimes? Wesley sighs entering his sitting room switching a light on seeing the darkness open up into light as he notices a shadow fall on his wingback chair. Dodds feels his mind begin to ache as the shadow slowly alters into a man in black with a red scarf covering his face.
“We need to talk.” His voice was low but it was something in his eyes that made Wesley think of a long lost time back in Tibet…
Wesley sips his coffee after taking his gasmask off. He realized the folly of wearing a disguise in a future where no one knew only vagaries about him. He didn’t know what to do with the first drink they gave him when he asked for a coffee. Was that really cinnamon and whipped cream on top? White Wolf got him a straight black coffee but it was something in his voice that led him to believe that not all was chain stores and panther costumes here. Dodds wanted nothing more to just find a place to sleep and return once more to his past perhaps finding a time where there was once nothing but peace…
Wesley Dodds kneels at the altar after lighting the incense stick. He was sixteen with only his inheritance bearing the Dodds name. He stayed long enough to see his father buried on the hill behind the family estate next to his mother before leaving the mansion’s ground to the caretaker, Leslie Humpries. He took only what was on his back and wandered across Europe seeing how the war had ravaged everything. It was there that his dreams returned to him. He had seen as a child his mother’s death and again his father’s. Now he saw strangers falling prey to madmen, rape, chaos, and all he could do was travel further east not sleeping. Wesley found the mountains of Tibet to bring a solace as he studied with the monks of the abbey ways to meditate to control his thoughts, breathing techniques to calm his soul. He dined, drank tea, and even practiced various martial arts with them. Dodds forgot about New York as he thought only of that first snow falling into the courtyard as he continued his exercises.
Dodds was in deep prayer when heavier footsteps fell next to him as another incense stick was lit. Wesley looked over at the young man maybe ten years older than himself. He looked American with a large red scarf covering his face. After their prayers they got up together. The snow fell harder as they walked out into the courtyard.
“American?” Wesley asked softly noticing how his New York accent came back thinking suddenly of home.
“New York.”
“Wesley Dodds.” He held his hand.
“Lamont Cranston.” They shook hands as the wind blew harder.
Wesley stared at the man in the red scarf and black slouch hat not knowing what to do. He knew that it was as if something had suddenly unclouded his mind to allow the man to be seen.
“You’re in danger, Dodds.” The voice was rougher but Wesley was almost certain that he had met the man ten years ago as Lamont Cranston.
“Am I now?” Dodds closes his robe sitting down in a chair opposite the man.
“I would not take this lightly. I know the darkness that you are only beginning to tap into.”
“I’m in no mood for this bad radioesque melodrama.” Dodds was wishing he had his shoes on with the gas canister he had implanted into the souls. He wouldn’t be sitting there all smug and mysterious after a good gassing.
“You may find mirth in this but I assure you there is no humor here. We have mutual enemies, Wesley.”
“I’m just a…”
“Hardly…you’re The Sandman…you’re going to need to learn discretion…I found you out from a disgraced cop turned p.i. who talks too much after a certain number of scotch and waters.”
“What’s his name?” Dodds was shocked to hear the low guttural voice of The Sandman being spoken without the mask on.
“That’s a problem for another time. It seems that the state hospital housing a patient that you have more than a passing knowledge tried to transfer him along with a Chinese national that I’ve tangled with to a new asylum that specializes in a certain type of the criminally insane.”
“And?”
“They escaped. You have no idea what you created, Richard Belmont had no concern for human life before but now he feels that it is God that’s telling him who to kill and what’s worse is that he’s under the delusion of Shiwan Kahn.”
“Shiwan…”
“Khan. You can’t imagine what he is capable of. Get dressed. We’re hunting them before they come after you.” Wesley looks at the twin silver .45s hanging from under the man’s jacket.
“What do you call yourself now?”
“You may call me…The Shadow.”
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