2/25/11 To slumber

This came from a dream I had last night. In the dream I was marrying somebody besides my fiance. I told the girl she wasn't my fiance and the dream fell apart from there. But the rest of the dream is where this came from.

I was awoken too early.

I was incomplete.

I was not ready.

I remembered little from waking up.

I felt the rain.

Rain. It was cold.

I heard the wind.

It was loud.

The wind bombarded my ears.

It scared me.

I felt my wrapping being torn from my atrophied body.

Those who woke me from my slumber tried to be gentle.

Three hundred years was a long time to be resting. Learning. Preparing for this.

What was this?

I found out.

Three hundred years ago I was wrapped in gauze and buried eight feet under gravel and dirt and flowers and strange herbs. The smells of the flowers and herbs permeated my wrappings but were no longer present in the soil from which I was resurrected.

“Wake up.” The voice said.

My eyes failed to open.

“Is he blind?” A second voice said. The sound of the second voice was much younger than the first voice.

“No. Wipe his eyes clean.”

Cold water splashed on my eyes. I felt the gunk and grime of three hundred years of sleep wash off.

“Wake up, the demons are coming, we need your help.”

2/18/11 Sofea of the Wyrm

I try not to write about family but sometimes there is something that is worth writing.

Sofea of the Wrym.

Sofea the Dragon Rider.

The barbarians from the north had ravaged the countryside of Hiun for so long no one remembered a time when there were no barbarians.

Thousands lost their lives to the barbarians and millions fear what will happen if the barbarians are not stopped.

From the Eastern deserts came Sofea and her companions, The Wryms.

Born from fire, stone, water and wind came the ancient dragons that tormented the citizens so long ago.

The Wyrms of Old were dominated by a child. Legend told of a child that would save the citizens. By controlling the powers of the Wyrms, the child would come and save mankind from the savages of the north.

2/13/11 The Hat Salesman

I didn't forget about last night. I wrote but just didn't post it. Here it is. My fiance said I should write about a hat salesman.

The hat-boxes were all stacked in haphazard columns along the walls and throughout the display floor.

As Creston walked among them he was careful not to bump the towers of boxes.

“You looking for anything in particular?” The voice emanated from the back of the store.

Creston searched for the person to whom the voice belonged.

“Um, yes. I need a top hat for a costume. I am going as a magician.” Creston made his way to the back of the store.

“Well, a top hat will be fairly expensive. You might want to rent one from the shop down the street.” The voice was now coming from the other side of the store.

1/14/11: The Pauper's Funeral

While everyone was down stairs mourning the loss of her brother, Annie was upstairs trying to forget him.

Her brother died less than a week ago and she convinced herself the easiest way to deal with it was to try and forget him. Everyone was downstairs remembering Paul and Annie was upstairs getting rid of everything that reminded her of him.

“No, no, here.” The whispers outside the door disturbed her efforts to clear her bedroom of remnants of Paul.

“Here?” They were diminutive and squeaky. Almost like cartoon mice or impish.

“What the heck,” Annie goes to the door and throws it open. The hallway outside was empty.