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"I like how you dream."

I tried really, really hard not to look up at the source of the voice. I mean, I had so many good, solid reasons not to look up. Granted, most of those reasons were centered around my hangover and the various bruises from the fight that had landed me in this little county jail, but they were my reasons.

I forced myself to stare at my feet a while longer. Nothing good comes from people who talk like that anyway. It stayed nice and quiet. Maybe I had imagined the voice.

"You should come dream for me."

Maybe I should stop feeding my imagination whiskey. The voice had a hi-pitch tone and a bit of a whiny quality to it. Kind of like when my son used to ask for cookies he knew he wasn't supposed to have. My son. Oh god. I risked raising my eyes a bit to the floor in front of me.

Little carved wooden shoes with all the details carved into it. They even had light scuffs buffed into the toes and the ends of the laces had a bit a fraying at the ends. There was a bit of bunched pant leg overlapping the top of the shoe and it was carved wood as well. It was hard to see at this distance, but I could almost make out the cross hatch pattern of a cloth texture on it.

This is not going to end well. I closed my eyes and stilled myself best I could. I aimed my head to the center of the cell and opened my eyes. Nothing. I'm still the only one in here. What the hell? I get up and press my face to the bars as I look ether way down the hall. The cold bars do a little to help sooth my head but I still see no one. Even the guard's desk is strangely empty.

I turned to head back to my bunk and he was sitting on it. He looked almost like a child but was too small. More like a ventriloquists puppet. He was playfully swinging his legs back and forth an easy six inches above the concrete. All his cloths looked carved of wood but moved with him like light cotton. His skin was a rosy pink, almost too red really. And the look on his face. The expression. The grin was too wide for any human skull.