Miss Giry had seized him by the wrist and was dragging him through the tangled crowd of Coney Island. They were passing hundreds of people, but no one seemed to notice the struggling boy as he pleaded for Miss Giry to release him. ‘Don’t worry,’ she had said, ‘soon we’ll both be released. How’s a trip to the pier?’ Sadness and pain seemed to radiate off his captor. Her grip on his wrist seemed as if it would cut off his wrist entirely as he struggled to free himself. He tried to scream, but there was no sound. He tried to plant his feet and put up a fight but his legs worked against him. He felt doomed. There was no hope.
When Miss Giry stopped at the end of the pier she let go of Gustave, but he could not run. He could not move. Suddenly a gun appeared in her hand. She held it up to her head – a flicker – and she vanished.
Gustave’s mother appeared, then his father. His mother was lying on the ground. Why was she on the ground? His father looked at him with puffy eyes and shiny tears fell down his face. Why was he crying? His father’s face bent in anguish. What is happening? His mother vanished then, and left his father standing in front of him. A figure came to stand behind his father. He could not see the figures form nor its face, but he could feel it reaching towards him. He was filled with a new form of terror. Terror of the unknown - a scream—
Gustave’s eyes widened to adjust to the dark of his room. All was quiet, save for the sound of his gasping breaths. This dream was not new to Gustave, but he could not help the shock it always gave him.
Gustave rose from his bed and moved to the piano on the other side of his room. The moonlight streaming through his window provided enough light for him to light a candle to place beside him. Stretching, sighing, and placing his hands on the keys of the piano, Gustave began to think.