It is Sunday morning.  Now is when families gather round, watch the fire lit sky, and embrace the new coming day.  Others wait in line at the closest fast food restaurant, for their quick meal.  Their morning fix.  Men and women of the third shift see the sun rise and wait for rest, their only final resolution to their grueling lives, in which work is life and dreams are food.  Even more rest, hoping that their day will not begin, that they can dream forever.  People take comfort in dreams, but this luxury is out of reach for one poor soul, Brian MacDowell.  Brian doesn't sleep.  It won't let him.  That is why he is on a mission this morning.  To get rid of It.

    Brian stared at his watch.  The fire lit sky played games with his vision and he had to keep adjusting the angle at which he looked at his watch.  7:30 am.  He had hours to go before any damn store opened in the village, but that was ok.  Today was the day that he would regain his sanity.  What little he had left of it any way.  It had sapped him of his rest.  It sapped him of his soul.  Brian still could remember when he was young, if he thought about it long enough.  Today was one of those days when it came a little easier.
    Brian was just like any other boy in school.  Brian played games with the other kids.  Said that girls had cooties.  He laughed when the cool kids hid the chalk or chalked up the erasers.  He even learned those cool dirty words and wasn't afraid to say them in front of adults.  Then when high school came in, he changed.  Not physically, no he still was the same guy, just going through puberty and finding that he was interested in those cooties the girls had.  His dreams changed.  Yes he did dream still then.  Instead of dreaming of what those dirty words really meant or of those scary movies he watched with his buds, Brian dreamed of strange things.  They weren't frightening at all at first.  At first they were actually quite fun.
    Brian would dream of water, becoming men and the men becoming wind.  He dreamed of lava walking.  He dreamed of magic.  Beautiful magic.  He also dreamed that he was creating that magic.  That he was some great wizard and he destroyed evil dragons and killed Dark knights.  He loved these dreams and he used to tell people about them.  Not everyone, cause some people might have thought him queer or foolish.  Called him a retard.  No one wanted to be called names.  But Brian would tell his close friends, the ones that would watch the movies with him, and would not make fun of him if he jumped when the werewolf popped out of no where.  And they thought they were cool and said that they had wanted the dreams too.  Everything stayed that way for a year until his dad died.
    Strange things have been known to happen to his family.  Strange things that his parents wouldn't tell him about, but if he stayed up late and wandered half way down the stairs, he heard.  They were about ghosts and dreams.  About fire starting from no where and floating objects.  Brian used to love to hear about these things, cause they were scary, just like the movies.  The newer stories were always more scarier than the older ones.  He soon found out that the scariest one he would ever know happened to his father.
    His dad went to work at a supermarket.  He worked in the meat department.  He would tell Brian that he really enjoyed his work, but Brian always saw the look on his face when he and his mom were talking.  Talking about money.  Supermarkets were unlikely to burn.  They had sprinklers and fire extinguishers and Brian never thought that a fire would happen at the Supermarket.  A fire did happen.  It started in the meat room.  He asked the firemen a million times, how it started but all they could say was that there was some sort of explosion in the back of the supermarket.  The meat room, was in the back of the supermarket.  The firemen and the police were never able to find out how the fire started, but his grandparents whispered something about his father.
    This didn't start the bad dreams, or the voices.  Two weeks after the fire, a man came to his door, a fireman.  A fireman that had come to the house before and was a friend of his father.  They would go bowling together and even bring Brian along once or twice.  The man said that he was sorry for Brian's loss, and he gave Brian a strange medallion.  Brian thought it was pretty and could not believe that it was found wedged into a cement block at what was the Supermarket.  The man said that it was his father's secret medallion and that it now belonged to him.  His mother agreed that it would now be his and told him that it had been in the family before Ireland was called Ireland.  This Brian did not believe.  Later, he would change that opinion.
    He wore the medallion everywhere and never took it off.  It was his reminder of his father.  He believed that part of his Dad's soul was blown in there and that it would make him stronger.  It only took a week before it started to effect his dreams.
    Instead of the beautiful magic, Brian began to dream of death.  Of whole cities dying and then coming up from freshly dug graves, alive again, but not.  He dreamed of blackened earth and fire that consumed whole nations.  He dreamed of great battles of men and dark creatures that resembled shadows.  He saw fields of dead bodies and he saw a sun blocked out.  A world cast in darkness.  And everyone wanted him to do something about it.  He often would wake up in cold sweats and find the medallion very warm or even hot.  It frightened him but he thought that his dad was trying to reach out to him.
    Later, the voices began.  They would scream at him and tell him that a city fell or that the enemy was near.  He could here people dying and fighting for there lives.  He heard all sorts of babble between mighty warriors or even generals.  It never ceased.  But no one else heard it and people started to give him strange looks cause he was always jumping and he started to look real ragged from the lack of sleep.
    It was then that he thought he should try to get rid of the medallion.  He guessed that it as the cause of all of his troubles and his dad was not in it, but something dark and evil.  He tried and he tried to get rid of it.  He threw it away, tossed in a fireplace, smashed it hid it, but nothing worked.  He then decided that he should give it away.  He almost did, but a thought came into his head: How could anyone do this to someone.  How could he give someone something that was going to drive them crazy, he wasn't sure if it would do the same to everyone, but he figured that it was not worth the risk and it was his to bare.  Until today.
    Today, was the first day of a special event in his town.  Today is when hundreds of folk from all over would come and to sell and buy junk.  Junk is a mean name for it, but Brian thought of it as junk.  He had passed through Skippack and smelled it's flagrant candles. Touched it's fine wood furnishings, and held it's dolls.  All were junk to him.  But at a place like this, on a day where there was so much going on, It might be overlooked.  He already picked the place that he wanted to sell it at.  The place was a small antique shop up on Store road.  It would be overlooked.  He would sell it for a good price and he would be free.  There would be a new owner, so it would not come back to him.  After all that he had been through, Brian did not care if it gave someone else nightmares.