He got a glance of the vertiginous precipice underneath them, but neither of the siblings seemed to be concerned that the rusty cage might fall, and send them to their deaths. There was no sense in being afraid to die, when you were the skeleton boy, anyway.

Skeleton boy? That was ages ago... My first Halloween, Berrel thought to himself, althouh somehow that memory felt muddy, like it wasn’t quite right, like he knew he didn’t remember it correctly. As they left the cage, and into a sort of twisted tree house his memories became clear, hitting him like a breath of warm fetid air. But just like the breeze, he couldn’t hold on to them, and they were gone just as soon as he realized they had been there. Like when you wake up from a dream, but can’t remember anything about it, other than the fact that you had it. 

He sat on a catapult, and Lock pulled the lever, sending him flying up the air, against a door, and he jolted awake, the healing wounds on his back burning. Sweat had pooled on the bed, soaking the carved triangle, the salt stinging at the touch. His mouth felt dry, so he stood and went to the kitchen. He didn’t remember much of that dream, other than the strange and twisted black landscape. Although those memories, too, were fading, as he busied himself with filling the glass. He took a few sips from it, and sighed, setting the glass down. The house was silent, other than the regular ticking of the pendulum clock. Barrel headed back to bed, humming under his breath. “We're his little henchmen and we take our job with pride. We do our best to please him and stay on his good side” He froze as he pulled the sheets back, as he realized that he knew the rest of that song, even though he had woken up in the middle of it.