Lucid Waking

Archive for June 25th, 2006

Madren’s Choice

            It took a while for Madren’s eyes to adjust from her night vision to see through the wall of blinding light and when they did, her nose wrinkled in disgust. She turned to him, blue eyes flashing.
            This is disgusting, why did you force me here?
            Conleth shoved the gun barrel farther into her back and stayed silent. She trotted along as slow as she could down into the ravine.
            “Unfinished business,” he said and continued to push her through the muck.
            She tried to file through his memories, but he kept pushing her away and all she could sense was melancholy anger. His silent persona wasn’t new to her, as they had been traveling for months to reach this dimensional pocket. The air was static with lingering souls from the bodies drowned in the muck. She sensed anger in every step underneath a begging pull at her heart. One of her hands clutched at her chest, involuntarily as her head started to throb. The mud came up to her ankles and buried in it were small sharp stones that dug themselves into her feet. She winced with pain and for once wished that she had those bizarre things called shoes that Conleth wore. At the speed he was pushing her, she had trouble sidestepping the numerous bodies. (more…)

The Prince of Air Castle

Originally published September 06, 2005

            “It starts out as a dream. I’m in an endless field of sugar cane with my little sister, Abby. She’s running around laughing when we hear thunder. We turn around to leave, and that’s when I see the smoke. Abby doesn’t seem to notice it, though, and runs toward it. I’m yelling at her to come back, but it’s like someone cast a silent spell and there’s no sound. She turns back occasionally, egging me on; I guess, ignoring the fact that I’m frowning and waving my arms up and down frantically. Sometimes I run after her, wishing- praying- it would rain. I see her stop as the fire engulfs her. Then I actually feel defeated, and I lose my will to live and sit down in the field waiting for the fire. That’s the scary part- I actually want to die.”
            Silence before: “I don’t know. Perhaps you’re having premonitions. Maybe just strong emotions about your sister.”
            Peter had always had frightening dreams. He had kept them inside until he collapsed. Now, barely able to walk with a crutch from sickness and mentally instable, he had gone to the town witch for help. She was a small person with a fair complexion and midnight black hair.
            “You say you’ve had other dreams?” she asked.
            He handed her a black leather bound book. The cover was filled with the story of Joseph and had twelve stars, a moon, and a sun at the top, with bundles of grain at the bottom. The middle between these two scenes had a crow, cornfields, cows, grapes and baskets full of an assortment of food. She smiled at his choice of books and opened it up to the first page. Disturbing images of various feelings and death filled each page.
            “How long have you been having these dreams?” the witched looked up at him from the disturbing pages, her face white and her lips drawn thin.
            “Since I was five. Those dreams mostly consisted of getting hurt on the playground, but they got worse as I got older.”
            “I see.”
            There was silence as she stared at the page in front of her.
            “Would you mind coming back tomorrow?” she asked as Peter shook his head. “Good, because I need some time to look at this.”