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The world; nothing but a big blue pearl that people spend their whole lives on, but there's more that people don't see, a whole nother level filled with spirits, monsters, and heroes. Known to some is one hero, a boy clad in black with hair like the sun, holding a blade black as night. He is the one who most remember, who most look to. He was the greatest, but far away something stirred, across a vast ocean in a far off land. Something yet undiscovered, even by those who know vastly more than most, for it takes a pure mind to understand what lays beyond the beyond, how spirits work, and how power moves on the smallest level. On an island nation the boy with orange hair fought many battles, defeating monsters that would cause most to tremble and cry, foul beasts with no remorse. His power came from a girl who came from another world, one who gave him the power to protect people, but it was forbidden. The boy was stricken down by the lords of the other world, his power taken from him, but they did not know the ways of the universe. Nothing ever ceases to exist, all things from matter, to energy, to spirit, they all act in two ways under force, maintain their being, or change form. When god closes a door he opens a window, and across the vast waters that night one boy found out what that truly means.

A young man sat in his room, on his bed with a book, reading about The beyond, theory on the next life, a story of a man who goes to hell and back. In his mind he felt like he would never feel love, or be strong enough to face such peril. As the clock turned over to midnight he closed the book and his eyes, praying aloud. "God. . . I feel so helpless, I can't even find the strength to leave my own home, when I walk out there I feel the memories torturing me, like my heart is slowly being crushed. Please give me strength" He said, soon going to sleep.

While a concept of a god is debatable, those who personally believe in his existence say that he never gives you strength, but instead gives you the chance to be strong. Whether by a being, by the universe, or by random chance, the young man would get that chance, but it would not be easy, or enjoyable. Slowly his being pulsed as he slept, his chance coming, his mind dreaming in poetry.

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The world stirs and moves onward, cruel, beautiful, careless, and filled with color.

In that world two meet, a shining moment of hope in a realization of direness, Pandora's box opening to them.

With an instant they connect, one showing the other what cannot be seen, giving him a chance to be strong, to protect.

His Hair like Marigolds, His voice like truth, his will like iron, and his blade like justice. He fights for those he loves, never hesitating to waste his life to help.

But in his vanity he is despised by some, those who feel the need to act as judges.

they move in the night, striking him down and taking his strength and casting it away, leaving him in despair as the two are pulled away.

In the world evil stirs, a creature known well to the stripped one.

A howl like ice creeping into your very being, a hole leaving their heart hollow and empty, a mask covering who they once were, a beast born of the world.

In the night they creep, and in the day they slither, finding passed souls, devouring them in an attempt to feel whole again, but they only ever feel more hollow.

The emptiness drives them to madness and hate, they are, and will always be Hollow.

The Hollows, beware, for they grimble and gire in the night.

Do not worry, for this one is destined for a task, of his path none know, and of his future none can foretell, for it may all fall under this new tide, but in the east the dawn is breaking.

It is ~~~~~the sword of~~~~~~ the ~~~~~~of sin and~~~~~ onto the world for ~~~~~ in its depths ................ Aen~........

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Dorian slowly woke from his bed after a long night of tossing and turning in his sleep. Some sleep visible in his tired eyes. The deep green pools reflecting the light of the morning sun as he adjusted his dusty coloured light brown hair, and shifted his navy blue bangs back. Slowly he rose and put on his glasses, grabbing an elastic to tie back his hair which flowed down to his shoulder blades in ringlets.

As soon as he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes he got up and went over to his computer and sat down, pushing a recording button and starting to talk into his camera.

"Hey, I'm Dorian E.P.P Hal, the eleventh grader with the incredibly long name. For those tuning in for the first time I am a lucid dreamer, with a messed up head, I moved to Canada when I was a kid from Wales, and I was born in Norway. Now for the meat of this video, another morning update of my dreams, like you all love to hear, all one hundred of you who watch if even. I had another poetry dream, and it had the same theme. The more I look into what I hear in my dreams the more I'm lead to stories from the orient and.... from home. I've been here since I was ten, and still Norway and Wales have a way of catching up like this. These 'hollow men' are close to the idea of Oni from Japan, Drougen from Norway as well as Haugbui. When a person dies... If their soul is restless it eats itself in its own misery, devouring its own tie to the world and its former self. It becomes a monster that believes the only way to make it stop is to eat souls, like a drug.

This dream I came closer to hearing the last part, Its a sword, but I don't know any more than that, its like my ears ring when I hear parts and I don't understand even half of it.

I would like to thank you all for your suggestions on how to improve my sleep, but the thing is that according to my eyes move more than most peoples in the course of a night. Its called "Rapid Eye Movement Sleep" and people generally say "REM Sleep" for short. I am getting enough REM sleep by far, even with this tossing and turning in bed. So anyone who tries giving advice to get me to sleep or to give me deeper sleep, thank you, its kind of you, but I'm trying to find a way to stay still in my sleep, and to have calmer dreams. I have to go get ready for the day now, I hope you enjoyed this pointless installment of Dorian's Inferno"

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Later into the day Dorian was in his living room, looking at the world outside through his large window.

His family had been left a six bedroom house with three floors, though the top floor was just less than half the size of the second floor, but it fit a bedroom, a mini kitchen, a tiny living room, and a bathroom. He was staying up there as a sanctuary from the stress of the world.

Living was hard with a major stress disorder, so his parents let him live in the upstairs to keep him from getting sick. He often was bedridden for two or three days after an argument with a friend. Every day he had to make sure nothing would set it off, and that meant seldom going outside.

That day was different, he wasn't in pajamas, but rather jeans, and a punk studded coat with a blue tee visible through the fully unzipped front.

Dorian talked to himself as he looked out

"I'm strong, and nothing it going to knock me down or make me ill" and after a moment he opened the balcony door, went out, and slid down a pole next to the top balcony in the back yard. One foot in front of the other he walked, to go to his other sanctuary in the woods, a sanctuary to him because of the privacy and the sound of water flowing through the rivers that flowed through the hills and forests behind the town. Soon he was out of the streets and into the nature, walking down a dirt path deep into the woods before turning and following a river, soon going down a small fork in the river until he got to dense brush, slipping through into a clearing with a pond that the river flowed into and out of, a large rock sticking out of the middle, green grass around the water, and a view of the sky bordered by tall old trees. Dorian had never seen or heard of the clearing the first time he went, he was drawn there by an odd hum as he walked, when he entered the hum faded and he decided to make it his own personal hiding spot, even putting a waterproof box under a pile of leaves with a few books and drawing supplies. It was six years since he had found it, and he had gone at least once a week every week he could. Dorian sat on a rock near the water and closed his eyes, relaxing and meditating on the sound of the water flowing in from the river, then out the other end of the pond, a light sound like rain flowing into a lake, gentle yet deep. The water in the pond was still, no wind blowing through because of the trees tightly grown around the tiny clearing, letting the surface act like a mirror to reflect an image of the sun shining like a pearl, something seen, but untouchable. The scene was perfect, like something from a poetry book. Dorian meditated on what his dreams meant, hoping to come to realize why he was dreaming what he was every night. After a while a sound crept into his mind, a soft hum that resonated with the sound of the water. It seemed perfect, like it was always there, the sound of silence. Dorian meditated for a while longer until he felt like he had reached the limit of his patience, standing up and walking around the pond with a sigh, skipping over the small creek pouring out, looking at the sky. From his peripheral vision he caught a glimpse of someone. "Who are you and why are you in my happy place?" he asked, but got no reply, not even the sound of footsteps or moving clothes. With a sigh he turned to the figure and his blood ran cold, staring across the pond at himself sitting with his hands clasped together under his chin with his elbows on his knees as he was sitting a moment ago, eyes closed and breathing lightly. From his chest he felt a weight, a square piece of metal with a chain coming out of his chest. It was like lucid dreams he'd had before, but they were always of him standing over himself asleep, but from the look of his body he wasn't asleep, but relaxed. He looked down at himself and saw that all his clothes were pitch black with white lining inside, though still the same outfit, with an empty sword sheath on his belt. It was too much and Dorian yelled into the air in confusion and anger at how little he knew about what was slowly happening to him. First his dreams, then daydreams about ghosts, then in one day such a change. He had felt from that morning like something had drastically changed. With a sigh he walked over to his body, trying to touch it but his hand going right through. He knew from that point that it was a true out of body experience as his shoulder felt could where he had touched on his body. With a sigh he started walking off into the woods, to see if he could get so far away that his body would draw him back in. He soon got to what looked like an abandoned warehouse, short crumbled brick walls, with a tiny amount of roof in one corner, and a strangely cold feeling in the cracked concrete slate, a flat but shattered floor devoid of anything but some scarce leaves and some weeds in the cracks of the floor. He stepped into the middle and looked around, before he heard a noise like tearing metal from the woods and a crash, birds flying out of the trees as the sound neared. Out of the trees came a figure with long arms wrapped around its own body like a straight jacket and an iron mask painted with white markings. The mask looked like a twisted version of a crow, and the cry it let out was like a caw with the sound of screeching and ripping sheet metal. With a cry it unwrapped its arms and pinned Dorian down. He didn't know what to do as he was slammed against the concrete, the wind knocked out of him as he tried to fight and push back. "Pitiful, Your energy seemed high but that was all a lie, I thought I may have been able to taste a reaper today, but a pitiful soul will have to do" It said in a distorted voice sounding like three men talking at once, and echoing. Slowly Dorian started to feel faint, as if the life were ding drawn from him, making it hard to struggle, his arms getting heavy, before his legs refused to move and his back relaxed against his will. With a cry he managed to put his hands on the creature's chest and a surge came through him, his eyes closed to what was happening, but the weight on him started to slowly fade until he couldn't feel the creature anymore. When he opened his eyes all he saw was the mask turning to dust in the air. Dorian got up and stumbled to a low wall, looking down at himself, now wearing a black robe with wide legged pants, black with an almost white blue inside, and a sword on his belt which he drew in curiosity. Its was the picture of black, like a space of darkness, no features to be seen. It was a European longsword in style, and one thing could be seen on the black space it took up, an engraving he understood, though it was in an Asian language "Hotarugetsu" Dorian was more than shocked as this revelation be fore he put the sword away and ran back to his body to see if he could just go home and cry.