The moment I finished Circling Cold and Measured Inspiration I turned my attention to my comedic duo, Sebastian & Jimmy. When I sat down to create this story, I tossed my story cubes and stared down at a house, an abacus, and a child with an attached nightmare. It took me a while to work through the trio of images and come up with the first concept for this story. Once that seed was done, the full story tumbled out from the depths of my mind.
Some nights feel wrong before anything actually goes wrong. A streetlamp flickers too long. A house creaks when it shouldn’t. Sound carries farther than expected, and even familiar places seem to hold their breath. This story begins in that quiet, uneasy space—where darkness isn’t threatening yet, but it’s certainly paying attention.
When Jimmy arrives at a friend’s house with a toolbox in hand, he expects a simple repair and a quick exit. What he finds instead is a neighbor, a violin, and the unsettling idea that not all nightmares stay politely confined to sleep. Some linger. Some organize themselves. And some, apparently, come with beads.
Beaded Nightmare is a Sebastian & Jimmy story about misinterpretation, escalating logic, and the danger of assigning intention to inanimate objects. It’s a tale where reason insists on one explanation, panic invents another, and comedy lives in the space between. After all, when the house starts shaking, the violin won’t stop screeching, and the numbers line up just a little too neatly… sometimes the safest option is to leave the tools behind and move to Guam.
The streetlamp hanging overhead flickered as if it feared the oncoming darkness. Jimmy peered down the street, licking his lips. He clutched the toolbox to his chest while crickets chirped a timid chorus. His footsteps echoed as he marched toward a friend’s home, where he was meeting Sebastian. When he reached the large door, he inched closer and knocked on it with a restrained fist. “Sebastian! Hurry and open up! I have the tools you need to fix whatever is broken in Marcus’s house!”
When it opened, Sebastian stepped outside, his eyes wide and his hair standing up in every direction. “Shhh! Keep your voice down!”
“What?” Jimmy froze and dragged his fingers down his face. “Why?”
“There’s a child next door who’s dealing with nightmares,” Sebastian said, pointing at the neighboring home. His gaze flicked to the building, and he stepped back into the house. Sebastian’s eyes kept looking away from the neighbor’s dwelling as if scrutiny would give the child’s dream both life and solidity. “Now, get in here and help me.”
“You’re afraid of whatever’s over there!?”
With a sigh, Sebastian pinched the bridge of his nose as he shook his head. “Jimmy, what are you babbling about?”
“You are scared of the kid’s dreams!” Jimmy turned around and touched the base of his throat. “Does he scream? Do the houses shake when he does! Should I skip putting toothpicks into my mouth?”
“You don’t use them! What are you talking about?”
Jimmy rubbed his cheek as his eyes widened. “I’m hoping not to swallow one when he gets terrified!”
A discordant sound rushed out of the residence as Sebastian massaged his temples. “Jimmy, that’s not the nightmare. It’s Marcus’s child practicing the violin. The harsh racket you hear proves that Marcus’s kid can’t play the instrument.”
“Do not joke about screeches!” Jimmy grabbed his friend’s arm, pulling him closer. “Having some knowledge of nightmares, I’m something of an auditory expert! A pleasant dream sounds a lot like ‘Ahh…’ while the nightmare is similar to ‘AAAHHHHHH!’ Can you hear the difference?”
“Yes,” Sebastian sighed as he dragged Jimmy into the house. “One’s peaceful, while the other is reminiscent of you doing your taxes.”
Once Sebastian closed the door, he walked past Jimmy and started up the stairs. “Forget about the sleeping kid and his nightmares. I require your help with what I found upstairs.”
“You mentioned nothing about going into a haunted attic.” Jimmy rushed after Sebastian, clutching the toolbox so tight that it threatened to cut his skin. “What do you need me to do now?”
With a groan, Sebastian hurried up the stairs and grabbed something off the stacked cardboard boxes. He turned and presented it to his friend. “Marcus owns lots of old-fashioned things like this.”
Jimmy laid the box on the floor and took the object as if it were a cursed artifact. “What’s this?”
Sebastian blinked as his shoulders dropped. “Jimmy… it’s an abacus.”
“I’ve heard of them,” Jimmy said, rotating it before watching the beads slide to the other side. “However, I haven’t learned what its purpose is. But it could be a child’s toy.”
Sebastian shook his head and grabbed the door leading up to the attic. “It assists with counting.”
Jimmy rotated the thing again and nodded. “Then I’ll count. One bead, two beads, red bead, blue bead—”
“It’s not Dr. Seuss, Jimmy!” He turned around, grabbing the abacus. Sebastian returned all the beads to their original side and released a breath. Then he slid one bead to the other end. “You use them to do calculations.”
“How do the beads help you perform math?” Jimmy retrieved the toolbox as he eyed the abacus as if it were the source of the child’s nightmare. As he inched forward, more screeches tore through the dwelling. “Sebastian, what happens if the beads fall off?”
“Then you can’t do arithmetic.”
As another screech filled the house, Jimmy snapped his fingers. “That explains school.”
A tremor rattled the home, and Jimmy scrambled behind Sebastian. “There! The kid’s nightmare is becoming real. Could it be attached to the abacus?
“I knew it. Look at them! They’re all lined up, waiting to spring into action.” Jimmy squinted at the beads, then leaned closer, examining them. “That’s how nightmares organize themselves. First the beads move, then the house does. The next thing you know, we’re haunted by arithmetic.”
“That is nothing more than a slight tremor, timed with the poor violin.”
“If that little instrument shakes the earth that much,” Jimmy said, cowering behind Sebastian. “I’m glad the kid’s not a cellist.”
Sebastian rubbed his forehead as he took several deep breaths. “That earthquake and the horrid music are unrelated.”
The home’s doorbell sliced through the din. Jimmy leaped into a well-lit bathroom, shrinking in the ample light. “It’s the nightmare! Tell it I moved to Guam!”
Sebastian pressed his temples as he walked down the stairs and opened the door, revealing a little child rubbing his arm. “Um… can you all stop the yelling, screaming, and the painful music?”
Marcus’s kid emerged from a nearby bedroom, holding a violin, and glanced at Jimmy. “I’m sorry that I am not any good.”
Jimmy peeked through the doorway, clutching the abacus like a shield. “Sebastian… is that nightmare wearing shoes?”
“What are you talking about?” Marcus’s child wrapped his fingers around the violin’s neck as his gaze drifted from the instrument to the cowering Jimmy. “Though even my teacher says my playing is scary.”
“See, Sebastian, this nightmare agrees with me!”
When the dwelling gave another long and groaning creak, Jimmy yelped, “It’s attached to the house! The hardware’s included!”
The kid shrugged. “If you’re scared of my violin, you really won’t like cello lessons tomorrow.”
“Sebastian,” Jimmy said, discarding the abacus and toolbox as he rushed down the stairs and headed outside, ignoring the other child, “I’m out of here.”
The home shook again as Sebastian gripped his nose. “At least he left the tools.”