Hunter's Curse by Ginna Moran

despise me for it. I hate that I let my hunger get so out of control that I’m outside my best friend’s dorm, dying to give her nightmares. Creating nightmares is my sustenance.
    I run my finger along the door and count to myself. I stare at my plaster white fingers. My long nails are tinted blue and dark purple veins pulse on my wrist. I haven’t been outside in daylight in weeks, and it shows. I’m bound to the night the longer I resist. But it’s okay; I love the night. You’re lying.
    The door swings open.
    A small nightlight shines from below her desk and casts shadows across the wall and her bed. She doesn’t stir when I click the door shut.
    I swallow hard. Alyssa is hidden under her dark brown comforter. On her night table is a stack of books and a small reading lamp. Tacked to her walls are hundreds of sketches. They’re so full of detail and accuracy that the drawings could be mistaken for black and white photographs.
    I glide across the room, my feet above the threadbare carpet, and run my fingers over a drawing of a moon setting on water. Below the glittering path of moonlight, a body lies in the sand and a giant fishtail cuts through the waves. It’s surreal and magical, and I’m not sure if it was a vision or her imagination.
    I plant my boots on the carpet. I’d give anything to leave the Creature Council’s compound. If my father didn’t work here, I’d go somewhere else far from this place. But, he’d never let me leave. It’s his way of protecting me. He doesn’t want to lose me like he lost my mother. The images Alyssa sketches will always be of faraway places to me. Places I will only ever see in dreams.
    I look away from the wall. I can’t torture myself anymore with ideas of the outside world. This, standing in Alyssa’s room while she sleeps, is my world. I just wish I didn’t hate it so much.
    I kneel next to Alyssa’s bed and tuck my white hair behind my ears. It’s lost all its pigmentation during my failed attempt at a hunger strike. When I don’t create nightmares, it reveals me as the monster I am. I’m frightening enough at the moment that everyone in the compound is uneasy around me. Once I eat, I’ll look more human again.
    I pull back the dark brown comforter just enough to see Alyssa’s gorgeous red hair sprawling over her pillow. Her creamy complexion is flawless and she looks as beautiful asleep as she does awake. She’s so alive and full of life compared to me, with my withered, stringy hair and gaunt figure. You’ll look less like a nightmare inflictor soon.
    But I am a nightmare inflictor—just like my father.
    I run my hands over Alyssa’s hair and press my thumbs to her temples and rest my fingers on her scalp. My vision fades despite my open eyes. My whole body trembles as I force my way into her head.
    I’m overwhelmed by a falling sensation as I manifest myself into Alyssa’s dream world. Gray fog swirls around me and I wave my hand, blowing it away. As it clears, my eyes widen in wonder. Dreams are always so magnificent and breathtaking. I wish I could dream on my own.
    I stand in the center of a vibrant valley speckled with red, yellow, and orange poppies. A crystalline waterfall rushes over a black rock cliff and into a translucent lake. I glide to the pebbly shoreline and peer at glittering silver fish swimming with a gracefulness I wish I had.
    Stop messing around.
    I pull my hands from my pockets. This is the part I love and hate the most. It’s why I’m called a nightmare inflictor—because I ruin the best dreams. I destroy them and devour them.
    I shift and force my feet to touch the ground. I’m no longer an observer to Alyssa’s dream, but a participant, and by the time I’m through, she’ll regret her offer. Even the toughest people can be frightened by their dreams.
    My cracked lips curve into a smile. I taste the sweet chocolate flavor dripping onto my tongue just from breathing the air. Every dream tastes differently, but