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Continue the story

I am one of the few people who can be bothered to write fantasy fiction so I am going to try to start up a story here.

Rules
1. Please don't write just a sentence, make it interesting.
2. Don't write The End, I will decide when to end it.
3. NO BUMPING

Also, the person who I think has written the best paragraph/section will win damascus armour/momo/mini ufo.

This story shall start with:

Out of the shadows of his dream world there came the man again. He had had this dream so many times before, the man, like always, would just fade away and leave him in the darkness. Then came the screams. The ear-rending screams that shattered his soul.

He tried to open his eyes, to wake from this darkness, this fear, but he seemed transfixed. All he could do was wait and watch. The man came again but closer and whispered two words, "kill me." To his horror, his arm rose and in his hand was a dagger painted black with darkness. He stabbed at the man and the blade met no resistance as it slid between the man's ribs. As the man fell, he regonised it, as he knew he would, to be his beloved twin brother, Sem.

The next morning, he staggered downstairs his eyes wide and droopy from lack of sleep. He had not dared to close his eyes again after he had woken.
"Are you feeling ok?" Sem was sitting at the oak table in the small kitchen eating, and had turned around when he entered the room.
Jareth looked up at Sem at a tear trickled down his left cheek.

Jareth sat down heavily at the table, raising his captured piece of toast to his mouth. It tasted like ash, even beyond the black crust. Chewing mechanically, Jareth tried to dispel the lingering horror of his nightmares. He could not remember when they had started, but every night they returned to torment him.

Jareth shuddered, the memory of his dream-brother's body forcefully summoning itself. Fratricide in itself was terrible enough, but to look down on a corpse whose face mirrored yours was enough to curdle anyone's stomach. Grimacing, Jareth swallowed painfully. Where are these dreams coming from? he wondered to himself, rubbing his weary eyes with his free hand.

A man stood there. Well, at least, that was as much that Jareth assumed. Rather, what met his eyes was a figure swathed tightly in a tan raincoat with the collar turned up, a dark fedora, and a black muffler covering most of his face. The only way he was sure it wasn't a log dressed like a man and stood upright was the fact that he saw two icy blue eyes peeking from behind the scarf. The man was abomnibly wet, and drops of sweet rain pelted from his coat as he stood in the doorway, uncertain.

Jareth glanced at the clock. It was far too late for any usual callers.

"Hullo?" Jareth's question hung in the air tenatively.

With a sigh, suddenly, the man fell forward onto the ground, as though he were a tree felled by a lumberjack minus the cry of 'timber!' The dark hilt of a Celtic-style dagger was visible in the man's back.

Jareth's hand hesitated, then touched the growing red spot on the raincoat. His hand came away dripping scarlet.

It seemed that his mysterious visitor was stone dead.

Jareth went back to take a closer look at the visitor. Gingerlly, he turned the ever-cooling face to the light, unwrapping the muffler.

The man was about thirty, with straight caramel hair. He had a not unhandsome face, with high cheekbones and a distinguished Grecian nose. His eyes, as mentioned before, were an impenetrable, icy blue. Jareth had the hardest time gazing into them without becoming entranced. They were almost hypnotic, in an illusionistic sort of way.