I walked into the dimly lit shop and waited for my eyes to adjust. The outside of the store had always intrigued me -- it was a motif of the night sky, painted masterfully, and there was always good music and a wonderful chocolaty aroma emanating from the building's door. I had been wanting to explore the shop for months.
Immediately to my left was the cashier's counter, which was piled high with records, cassette tapes and CDs; currently in the player was a Red Hot Chili Peppers album that I can't quite remember the name to.
Beyond the counter, the walls and floor were filled with shelves. The central display bore shoes of all sorts; Converses, sparkly pumps, tennis shoes, flats, etc. I was immediately drawn to a pair of black knee-high Converse boots with purple laces. Before I could walk over to try them on, however, I was interrupted by another patron of the shop, who sidled up to me and asked in overly-casual tones, "So. You new here?"
"Uh...yes?" I replied, not really sure what he was asking.
"Well, my name's Dave, and this is The Shop: Catering to all your needs, be they for fresh produce, high fashion, furniture or household appliances. The Shop's got it all. It also doubles as the gathering-place for all the neighborhood's coolest people. Want a tour around?"
I decided I didn't like this Dave. He was too loud, too forthcoming, and I didn't like the way he'd lightly grabbed my elbow halfway through his little speech. I gently tugged my arm from his grasp and told him, "I think I'd like to have a little look around for myself, thanks."
"Have it your way," he shrugged, and moseyed off to the back of the shop, pulling a cell phone out of his pocket as he did so.
I now carried on unimpeded to the Converses. When I picked them up, I realized that the tag said that they would be about four sizes too large for me, but I wanted to try them on anyways, just to make sure. I sat down on the floor, removed my own shoes and proceeded to slowly (but surely) untangled the laces and unzip the zippers on the sides. When I finally had the shoes on my feet, it turned out that they were only a couple sizes too large, but they would still slip off of my feet if I tried to walk around in them. What a shame.
By the time I was standing up in my own shoes again, The Shop was filled with people. They were all dressed in a vaguely Gothic way, and they stood in small groups and chatted quietly but amiably, sipping Dr. Peppers and snacking on assorted cheeses and grapes that had suddenly appeared on a platter in front of the shoe display.
A short girl with platinum-blonde hair and a nose piercing walked up to me and introduced herself as Sarah. "Dave told us a newbie was here, so we came to see what you were all about." She smiled cutely. We chatted for a while (thought I can't remember about what) and then parted ways. I walked slowly through the crowd until I arrived at the cashier's counter, which had been cleared of its load of music and was revealed to be a long, yellow bar, replete with swiveling bar stools. A group of guys (not including Dave) had taken up all of the seats except for one and were laughing uproariously.
When they had quieted, I strode boldly forward and claimed the remaining bar stool, ordering a Dr. Pepper from the bartender/cashier.
"So, it's the newbie," said the guy sitting next to me. He was the tall, overly-muscled football-playing type, but his smile was soft and his voice kind.
"Yeah, that's me, what's it to you?" I asked, refusing to be ruffled.
"What's it to me?" he repeated in disbelief. "Why, I'm here to welcome an important new member of the tightest social group around, and you want to know what I care?"
"Everyone who walks in that door is special in some way, Green," chimed in the guy on my right, a dark-headed fellow with bright blue eyes and a lazy slouch.
"People come here for a reason," agreed the guy on my left.
I suppose that that was supposed to serve as some sort of an explanation, but it only left me more perplexed. I talked a little while longer with the two guys, occasionally laughing, and then I moved on to other clusters of people.
As I passed in front of the shop window, I happened to see my father get off of the bus and walk down the sidewalk towards The Shop. For some reason, I badly wanted his presence here. I willed him to look up and meet my gaze. He finally did, but just then Dave appeared at my side and started chattering into my ear. The annoyance of this broke my concentrations and my dad walked on again as if he had never seen me. I stared after him desperately, pleading silently with him not to leave me alone here, until he finally turned around and made a gesture that somehow asked, "You want me to come in?" I nodded yes and beckoned to him. Thirty seconds later, my whole family was standing in the shop, introducing themselves to Sarah.
After the introductions where done, Sarah asked my younger sister, Rose, and I if we wanted to come see something very interesting with her. Rose and I said that we would.
Sarah led us through The Shop, past the produce and appliance sections, all the way to the very back. The light was brighter and of a more friendly yellow color here. We walked past windows that were draped over with old, emerald-green velvet curtains -- except that the curtains were on the other side of the glass. A shiver of anticipation, premonition and excitement tingled up my spine. Was she taking us to where I hoped she was taking us?
We eventually stopped in front of an ornate wooden archway, which was also covered by the green curtains.
"You'll have to go by yourselves from here," whispered Sarah. "The master of the house doesn't like strangers. But I'm sure you know your way around." She smiled, wished us luck and left us. Rose and I glanced at each other with wide eyes and softly pushed our way through the curtains.
The velvet was heavy and stifling, and it smelled oldly of dust and neglect. Presently, we arrived in what was a posh parlour. The walls were of a dark panelled oak and the floor was also carpeted with a thick green rug. What little light that seeped into the room was weak, gray and dusty, filtered through the curtains. Cracked leather armchairs were buried in dust; their ruddy red-brown color was masked by a fine mist of gray. In the corner, however, stood a rocking chair that was as bright and colorful as if it was brand new.
Rose and I knew exactly where we were, though. We raced from the room and into the library, but Rose accidentally knocked a port of flowers from a shelf. This seemed to summon the young man who walked through a shadowed doorway to our left. He scowled first at the upended vase and then at us. He was dressed very dandily in a style that hasn't been seen since the late seventeen-hundreds. "This is why I don't like strang --" he began, but stopped short, doing a double-take. "Rose? Green?..." he whispered, astonished.
"Mac!" we cried, running to hug him.
After our reunion, we spent the remainder of the day clambering over the red tile rooftops of Mac's grand estate, talking amiably about life and enjoying each other's presence.
The dream ended as we basked in the glow of a warm, golden summer sunset, look from the roof out over the rolling hills and being altogether thoroughly satisfied.
Friday, January 20, 2012
10/17/2011
It was the last day of the camping trip and the four of us (Mel, Drew, Mandrake and I) were driving out of the park in the car. Along the way, we passed the ranger station, which we noticed had had a museum wing installed since we had last seen it. Mel, Drew and I decided to go in and check it out (guided tours were free that day), but Mandrake, who was uninterested, said he would take a bus back to the house and meet us there. Thus, we parted ways.
The guided tour began, and the exhibits we saw were interesting; they told tales of how the park had been a logging and mining camp before it had been converted into a state preserve. The museum was dimly lit and consisted of a series of spacious rooms whose walls were decorated with subtitled black-and-white pictures in large frames.
Halfway through the tour, however, a paunchy old man who smelt of onions and old sweat and was dressed in a green-and-red flannel shirt and faded blue jeans sidled up to me and slung his arm around my shoulders, whispering in my ear, "Hello, love. How's about you follow me and we'll have ourselves a little bit of fun?"
I tensed, readying myself to grab his face and smash it upon my knee, but just as I was about to turn and do so, I felt him press something cold against the small of my back.
"Keep quiet about it and no-one gets hurt, eh?" he whispered. I was filled with rage. I would gladly die rather than allow myself be violated by him.
With more ferocity than I had known I was capable of mustering, I turned and slammed the heel of my hand into his nose, knowing as I did so that I would break it and shove a splinter of bone up into his brain, killing him instantly; just what he deserved, the wretch.
However, simultaneously, he stabbed me just below the ribcage. I passed out as I saw him slump lifeless to the ground I didn't feel the pain of the knife; I only felt a grim satisfaction.
I awoke what seemed seconds later in an ambulance that was speeding down a county road that was beautifully lined with maples adorned in their most splendid fall colors. I still didn't feel any pain from the wound -- perhaps it was shock -- but I was overcome by a bottomless sadness. I knew I wasn't going to survive. I turned to my mother with tears in my eyes and whispered, "Tell them I loved them with all my heart. Especially Mandrake. Tell them..."
And then I lost consciousness again and knew that my life was over.
The guided tour began, and the exhibits we saw were interesting; they told tales of how the park had been a logging and mining camp before it had been converted into a state preserve. The museum was dimly lit and consisted of a series of spacious rooms whose walls were decorated with subtitled black-and-white pictures in large frames.
Halfway through the tour, however, a paunchy old man who smelt of onions and old sweat and was dressed in a green-and-red flannel shirt and faded blue jeans sidled up to me and slung his arm around my shoulders, whispering in my ear, "Hello, love. How's about you follow me and we'll have ourselves a little bit of fun?"
I tensed, readying myself to grab his face and smash it upon my knee, but just as I was about to turn and do so, I felt him press something cold against the small of my back.
"Keep quiet about it and no-one gets hurt, eh?" he whispered. I was filled with rage. I would gladly die rather than allow myself be violated by him.
With more ferocity than I had known I was capable of mustering, I turned and slammed the heel of my hand into his nose, knowing as I did so that I would break it and shove a splinter of bone up into his brain, killing him instantly; just what he deserved, the wretch.
However, simultaneously, he stabbed me just below the ribcage. I passed out as I saw him slump lifeless to the ground I didn't feel the pain of the knife; I only felt a grim satisfaction.
I awoke what seemed seconds later in an ambulance that was speeding down a county road that was beautifully lined with maples adorned in their most splendid fall colors. I still didn't feel any pain from the wound -- perhaps it was shock -- but I was overcome by a bottomless sadness. I knew I wasn't going to survive. I turned to my mother with tears in my eyes and whispered, "Tell them I loved them with all my heart. Especially Mandrake. Tell them..."
And then I lost consciousness again and knew that my life was over.
10/9/2011
It was the evening of the big gig, and Rose and I were packing up our gear in preparation for the short drive over to the local thrift store, where we were playing for some sort of block-party event that was being held there. Somehow, we managed to pack both guitars, amps and a huge amount of connective cords into the pull-behind bicycle trailer.
Then, we biked down quiet roads flooded with golden, late-afternoon summer sunlight. We reached our destination just as the sun was setting.
We checked in with the shop-owners, the sound technicians and the stage crew before proceeding to set up, though by now I was beginning to realize that everything was not fine and dandy with Rose. She looked a little pale and her brow was furrowed with worry.
"Green," she said to me, "I don't think we're ready to play this gig."
I immediately became frustrated. After all, I had spent months teaching her to how to play the guitar, and now she just wanted to back out.
"I think we should go home," she continued. "I forgot some of my stuff anyways..."
I knew that if Rose wasn't going to play, Rose wasn't going to play. I might have been able to solo the gig, but that would leave Rose alone and unprotected, and I didn't want anything to happen to her...
Eventually, after apologizing profusely, we packed up again and biked carefully home in the dark.
Then, we biked down quiet roads flooded with golden, late-afternoon summer sunlight. We reached our destination just as the sun was setting.
We checked in with the shop-owners, the sound technicians and the stage crew before proceeding to set up, though by now I was beginning to realize that everything was not fine and dandy with Rose. She looked a little pale and her brow was furrowed with worry.
"Green," she said to me, "I don't think we're ready to play this gig."
I immediately became frustrated. After all, I had spent months teaching her to how to play the guitar, and now she just wanted to back out.
"I think we should go home," she continued. "I forgot some of my stuff anyways..."
I knew that if Rose wasn't going to play, Rose wasn't going to play. I might have been able to solo the gig, but that would leave Rose alone and unprotected, and I didn't want anything to happen to her...
Eventually, after apologizing profusely, we packed up again and biked carefully home in the dark.
Wednesday, October 5, 2011
10/5/2011
I'd been in this area before: it was a chain of islands somewhere in the Caribbean, owned by a resort. Further inland (for I was on the beach), I knew there was a huge, domed conservatory that connected with a bunch of treehouse cabins. The last time I had been here, the owners of the conservatory-resort had trapped myself and the other customers inside the large glass dome so they could create an utopia world with us as their breeding-rabbits. A friend and I managed to commandeer one of the official's aircraft, fly it off the island and report the resort's activities to the government. Fortunately, ownership of the resort had changed hands since then.
Since my last visit, everything had shifted to the beach. All the resort buildings were now there, and there were house-hotel-boats floating far out on the azure waves. It seemed that this time, I was there on some sort of vacation with the kids from my highschool; in addition, my family was there, as well.
Naturally, I spent the days there exploring with three of my best friends: Kieran, Ian and Zayne. We spent afternoons walking up and down the pure, white, powdery sand of the beaches, until we had circumnavigated the whole body of land and had seen the other islands continuing to the horizon in a curving chain on the eastern side. We explored the forests filled with huge palm trees and strung across with vines, experiencing the strange and exotic flora and fauna of the land. We swam in the ocean and slept long nights in a tent we had pitched on the beach.
Early one morning, however, during our daily swim, the four of us happened upon a tiny island that had seemingly never been there before. We clambered ashore, our limbs filled with the simultaneous lightness and heaviness that comes from a good, long swim. Upon the crest of the hill of sand, there was, startlingly, rooted a tree. It wasn't startling merely because of its presence, but because it was not a palm tree, or any other tree I'd seen before; I don't even know how I would go about describing it.
Curious, we walked closer to examine it, thankful for the shade that its spreading boughs provided. It was Kieran who discovered the second peculiarity of the tree. He and I had climbed up the branches some way and were both sitting perched in a wide crook between branches, looking out over the waves to where the sun was now beginning to set on the horizon (I don't know how the time had passed so quickly) and listening to Ian and Zayne talk and laugh quietly below when something startled Kieran and he almost fell out of the tree.
"Ruby!" he hissed. "Look at the branches, they're see-through!"
He was right. In the golden light of the westering sun, the dark bark of the tree had turned shadowy, and I could see through it to the thick sap flowing within the tree and all the way beyond that and through to the other side. It was undoubtedly the most beautiful thing I had ever seen, and Kieran and I stared in awe at each other for a moment before scrambling back down the tree to tell Ian and Zayne, who were facing away from the trunk. As we did so, I could feel the tree thrumming, as if something within it had been woken up.
The moment we got down to the sand, I knew something amazing was about to happen -- the sand around the tree had turned to a dark gray color and the vibrating of the tree was becoming a low, sonorous hum. Sure enough, when both of my feet were firmly on the ground, I heard a muffled "thwump" sound from the northern side of the tree. Kieran and I ran around to investigate what it was; Ian and Zayne were already there.
A large chunk of sand had fallen in between the tree roots, exposing a small, dusty cavern that looked absolutely ancient, hundreds of years old.
Glittering within the ruin of the cavern was a huge milky-white crystal.
Zayne stooped and picked up the crystal, holding it up to the light to examine it. "It's a transportation device," he said. "There are instructions engraved on the top of it." He scrutinized the runes that were carved on the flat stone top of the crystal for a time and then muttered something indistinguishable under his breath. I nearly couldn't believe my eyes as he floated off the ground and through the branches of the tree before alighting softly on the ground in front of us. "Here, you try it," he said, handing it to me.
I took the crystal hesitantly and was surprised to discover that it was incredibly light. Zayne was right, there was a set of instructions scribed on the back, but they were in another language. Upon further inspection, though, I found that there was a key, which looked like it had been carved much more recently. I examined the code for a bit longer, and then I clicked my tongue and imitated the cooing of a dove while at the same time focusing all my willpower on activating the stone. To my delight, my body began to feel as light as a feather and I knew I had the ability to use this stone for amazing things. It was thrilling and empowering.
Kieran and Ian, however, were unable to tap into the crystal's powers, and Zayne claimed that he had no use for it, so the crystal was left in my care, which I wholly approved of. I felt that there were secrets to unlock involving the crystal.
I parted from the guys, who were going to swim back to shore and bed down in the tent for the night. I didn't feel at all restful; in fact, I was filled with that awareness and clarity that I feel whilst standing outdoors in the evening, gazing at the moon. It was like a veil had been lifted from my whole body and suddenly all of my beautiful potential had leapt out at me in its full brilliance, and I could hear my thoughts perfectly, and they sounded like the voices of the stars in the heavens above, if only they had had voices. So, I decided to use the crystal to fly over to the south-western side of the island, where my favorite beach was.
The sand there was piled into a high bluff overlooking the water, and the waves were always particularly tall and wild. I took up a post on the peak of the dune and opened all my senses to the world around me.
I watched the celestial bodies circle in their cycles above me, and in so doing, I learned the secrets of the long-lost civilization that had found the crystal and discovered how to harness its powers.
They had lived on this very chain of islands, and had found the strange translucent trees, just as Kieran, Zayne, Ian and I had, and they found that the trees only became visible and tangible during a certain time of the year, which led to the discovery that their sap, when the trees died, hardened within them to produce the crystals. Each tribesperson wore a small chunk of the stone around their neck, and they were capable of great physical and mental feats. But suddenly, one day something happened, some great and mysterious event occurred and the people of the islands disappeared, along with all the crystals, save one, which had been stowed in the roots of the tree that we had found today.
I stayed up all night, listening that strange some sixth sense that had opened up when I had first interacted with the crystal. It was like I had become a beam of sunlight; I was filled with a warmth that kept me cozy when I fell asleep on the beach at sunrise, curled around the crystal.
The guys found me there early that next afternoon, and gently woke me up, asking if they could see the crystal again. I blearily handed the crystal over, slowly standing up and brushing the sand from my clothing.
Zayne, standing across from me, nodded and frowned, looking at the stone. "The runes have disappeared," he said, seemingly unsurprised, handing the crystal back to me.
"You'd better come back and start packing up soon; we're leaving this evening, remember?" Ian called over his shoulder to me as the three began to walk north up the beach to where the tent was.
I stared down at the crystal, dismayed. After sleeping, I no longer felt that open awareness that I had the night before. Somewhat desperately, I attempted to activate the crystal, and I couldn't. That moment was so sad and so disappointing that I nearly burst into tears. Then, with the resolve that it was the right thing to do and with the melancholy of a funeral dirge, I dug a hole in the sand and buried the crystal there before hiking back to the tent to help the guys pack up.
Thus, the dream ended.
Since my last visit, everything had shifted to the beach. All the resort buildings were now there, and there were house-hotel-boats floating far out on the azure waves. It seemed that this time, I was there on some sort of vacation with the kids from my highschool; in addition, my family was there, as well.
Naturally, I spent the days there exploring with three of my best friends: Kieran, Ian and Zayne. We spent afternoons walking up and down the pure, white, powdery sand of the beaches, until we had circumnavigated the whole body of land and had seen the other islands continuing to the horizon in a curving chain on the eastern side. We explored the forests filled with huge palm trees and strung across with vines, experiencing the strange and exotic flora and fauna of the land. We swam in the ocean and slept long nights in a tent we had pitched on the beach.
Early one morning, however, during our daily swim, the four of us happened upon a tiny island that had seemingly never been there before. We clambered ashore, our limbs filled with the simultaneous lightness and heaviness that comes from a good, long swim. Upon the crest of the hill of sand, there was, startlingly, rooted a tree. It wasn't startling merely because of its presence, but because it was not a palm tree, or any other tree I'd seen before; I don't even know how I would go about describing it.
Curious, we walked closer to examine it, thankful for the shade that its spreading boughs provided. It was Kieran who discovered the second peculiarity of the tree. He and I had climbed up the branches some way and were both sitting perched in a wide crook between branches, looking out over the waves to where the sun was now beginning to set on the horizon (I don't know how the time had passed so quickly) and listening to Ian and Zayne talk and laugh quietly below when something startled Kieran and he almost fell out of the tree.
"Ruby!" he hissed. "Look at the branches, they're see-through!"
He was right. In the golden light of the westering sun, the dark bark of the tree had turned shadowy, and I could see through it to the thick sap flowing within the tree and all the way beyond that and through to the other side. It was undoubtedly the most beautiful thing I had ever seen, and Kieran and I stared in awe at each other for a moment before scrambling back down the tree to tell Ian and Zayne, who were facing away from the trunk. As we did so, I could feel the tree thrumming, as if something within it had been woken up.
The moment we got down to the sand, I knew something amazing was about to happen -- the sand around the tree had turned to a dark gray color and the vibrating of the tree was becoming a low, sonorous hum. Sure enough, when both of my feet were firmly on the ground, I heard a muffled "thwump" sound from the northern side of the tree. Kieran and I ran around to investigate what it was; Ian and Zayne were already there.
A large chunk of sand had fallen in between the tree roots, exposing a small, dusty cavern that looked absolutely ancient, hundreds of years old.
Glittering within the ruin of the cavern was a huge milky-white crystal.
Zayne stooped and picked up the crystal, holding it up to the light to examine it. "It's a transportation device," he said. "There are instructions engraved on the top of it." He scrutinized the runes that were carved on the flat stone top of the crystal for a time and then muttered something indistinguishable under his breath. I nearly couldn't believe my eyes as he floated off the ground and through the branches of the tree before alighting softly on the ground in front of us. "Here, you try it," he said, handing it to me.
I took the crystal hesitantly and was surprised to discover that it was incredibly light. Zayne was right, there was a set of instructions scribed on the back, but they were in another language. Upon further inspection, though, I found that there was a key, which looked like it had been carved much more recently. I examined the code for a bit longer, and then I clicked my tongue and imitated the cooing of a dove while at the same time focusing all my willpower on activating the stone. To my delight, my body began to feel as light as a feather and I knew I had the ability to use this stone for amazing things. It was thrilling and empowering.
Kieran and Ian, however, were unable to tap into the crystal's powers, and Zayne claimed that he had no use for it, so the crystal was left in my care, which I wholly approved of. I felt that there were secrets to unlock involving the crystal.
I parted from the guys, who were going to swim back to shore and bed down in the tent for the night. I didn't feel at all restful; in fact, I was filled with that awareness and clarity that I feel whilst standing outdoors in the evening, gazing at the moon. It was like a veil had been lifted from my whole body and suddenly all of my beautiful potential had leapt out at me in its full brilliance, and I could hear my thoughts perfectly, and they sounded like the voices of the stars in the heavens above, if only they had had voices. So, I decided to use the crystal to fly over to the south-western side of the island, where my favorite beach was.
The sand there was piled into a high bluff overlooking the water, and the waves were always particularly tall and wild. I took up a post on the peak of the dune and opened all my senses to the world around me.
I watched the celestial bodies circle in their cycles above me, and in so doing, I learned the secrets of the long-lost civilization that had found the crystal and discovered how to harness its powers.
They had lived on this very chain of islands, and had found the strange translucent trees, just as Kieran, Zayne, Ian and I had, and they found that the trees only became visible and tangible during a certain time of the year, which led to the discovery that their sap, when the trees died, hardened within them to produce the crystals. Each tribesperson wore a small chunk of the stone around their neck, and they were capable of great physical and mental feats. But suddenly, one day something happened, some great and mysterious event occurred and the people of the islands disappeared, along with all the crystals, save one, which had been stowed in the roots of the tree that we had found today.
I stayed up all night, listening that strange some sixth sense that had opened up when I had first interacted with the crystal. It was like I had become a beam of sunlight; I was filled with a warmth that kept me cozy when I fell asleep on the beach at sunrise, curled around the crystal.
The guys found me there early that next afternoon, and gently woke me up, asking if they could see the crystal again. I blearily handed the crystal over, slowly standing up and brushing the sand from my clothing.
Zayne, standing across from me, nodded and frowned, looking at the stone. "The runes have disappeared," he said, seemingly unsurprised, handing the crystal back to me.
"You'd better come back and start packing up soon; we're leaving this evening, remember?" Ian called over his shoulder to me as the three began to walk north up the beach to where the tent was.
I stared down at the crystal, dismayed. After sleeping, I no longer felt that open awareness that I had the night before. Somewhat desperately, I attempted to activate the crystal, and I couldn't. That moment was so sad and so disappointing that I nearly burst into tears. Then, with the resolve that it was the right thing to do and with the melancholy of a funeral dirge, I dug a hole in the sand and buried the crystal there before hiking back to the tent to help the guys pack up.
Thus, the dream ended.
Sunday, June 12, 2011
6/12/2011
I had ridden my bike over to a Mexican restaurant in the northeast part of town, where some friends of mine were holding a birthday party for another friend before they headed back to the house for the remainder of the festivities. Before I left the house, I reminded myself to take a shower, pick up my earrings from where I'd left them in the bathroom and put my keys (along with a few spare quarters) in my pocket, as these were the supplies I would need for the outing. I ended up initially forgetting the keys and coins, but I did walk out of the house with them the second time around.
When I eventually arrived at the party, I found that they'd begun dinner without me, but that was just fine because I wasn't really hungry in the first place. When I'd settled in with the guests, the squire of my dance team, Tabby, came over to sit next to me and asked if I would be attending practice the next day. I told her that regretfully, no, I would not be, as I would have yet another birthday party to attend the next day.
Dinner progressed and eventually finished, and we walked through a light, enjoyable rain back to the house (which was only a few blocks away). Upon our arrival, we all went to the roof where punch was being served. Music was being lined up by a DJ for the coming dance party, which was to occur once the sun went down.
About halfway through the party, in what I would guess to be the late-afternoon (it was still cloudy, so I couldn't tell exactly where the sun was, nor was I paying too much attention), I saw a woman riding a bike down on the sidewalk. Behind her, she towed a trailer with two girls seated comfortably in it. The woman had extremely curly, sandy-blonde hair, and the more I gazed at it, the more I began to realize that I knew this woman. Why, she was Mandrake's mother!
Without second thought, I climbed as hurriedly as I could through the window, raced downstairs, grabbed my bike and helmet (because Mom always warns me never to ride without one) and raced after the woman. But by this time, she was already out of sight, and I had no idea where she might have gone. Still, I pedalled quickly down the street, sure that I would be able to catch up with her eventually.
I soon entered another neighborhood that had appeared several times before in my dreamscape -- kind of an artsy place in the reclaimed-warehouse sort of way. The sidewalk was still wet and as I zoomed along, my tires kicked up great puddles behind me. At that point, I was completely happy.
However, only a few seconds later, a small dog raced, screeching and yapping at me, from the homely doorstep it was gaurding. I accelerated past, thinking I'd leave it behind once it was convinced I was no longer infringing upon it's territory, but it miraculously managed to keep pace with me, chugging it's stubby legs as fast as they would go. The little dog began snapping viciously at my ankles, despite the fact that they were still pedalling the bike. More and more dogs streamed from the front yards of houses and followed the example of the small dog until there were twelve or so of them on my tail.
I knew I had to find some way to escape them, or they would catch me and devour me. So, at the next warehouse, I jumped off my bike and ran into the building, slamming the door behind me.
The place I found myself in was quite peculiar. I was backstage of an amatuer auditions session for Shakespeare's "Macbeth." A couple of snotty-looking kids turned my way and favored me with a "What the hell do you think you're doing here" sneer that I had thought could only be pulled of by TV-show high school preps. These kids pulled it off with nastiness to spare.
I really wanted to leave, but I couldn't; the dogs were still waiting outside, I was quite sure of it. I looked around for a quiet corner where I could sit and look as inconspicuous as a broom or a mop, but I couldn't find one. the preps were called onto stage in short order though, so I was spared any more nasty stares.
Just when I had got to thinking that it might be safe to go outside again and reclaim my bike, a cute, blonde girl poked her head around the curtain, popped the pink bubblegum bubble that she had been blowing (it was quite and impressive one) with her teeth and said to me, "Oh, Green, there you are. We've been waiting ages for you!" At that, another girl with shoulder-length dark brown hair and freckles across the bridge of her nose stepped around the curtain.
"Yeah, come on, Green; we're going to be late for the dance-out!" she said, tugging at my sleeve. She was so earnest and kind that I felt my dream-self must know her well and trust her, so I followed her and the blonde girl out the back stage door. Thankfully, the dogs were no longer outside; they must have all returned to their houses.
Before we caught the bus from what had suddenly morphed from a warehouse into my high school, I stopped by the garden and grabbed my earrings from atop a gray rock; I'd been wearing them only a little while before, but they'd somehow appeared there and I knew I would need them with me. Otherwise, Mom would be furious that I'd lost them.
After that, the two girls and I were on our way: we caught the bus and took it to the train station downtown, where the dance-out was taking place. I wanted badly to join in with the dancing, but the girls dragged me on to the ladies' watercloset, where we had a serious discussion that I can't remember the details of. After that, we caught one of the trains and ended up back at the high school.
The two girls and I parted ways -- they walked back into the building, waving over their shoulders, and I scrambled to get on my bike before the dogs found me again. I knew if I tarried too long here and didn't build up enough speed before passing their domiciles, they'd have me in an instant.
I set off, not bothering to put on my helmet in my haste, and pedalled furiously away, this time riding down the middle of the traffic-devoid street. I was no longer concerned with the woman on the bike I'd been chasing before; in fact, I'd forgotten all about her. I made it safely back to the house where the party was still happening and rejoined the crowd on the roof, feeling oddly satisfied with my adventures for the day.
When I eventually arrived at the party, I found that they'd begun dinner without me, but that was just fine because I wasn't really hungry in the first place. When I'd settled in with the guests, the squire of my dance team, Tabby, came over to sit next to me and asked if I would be attending practice the next day. I told her that regretfully, no, I would not be, as I would have yet another birthday party to attend the next day.
Dinner progressed and eventually finished, and we walked through a light, enjoyable rain back to the house (which was only a few blocks away). Upon our arrival, we all went to the roof where punch was being served. Music was being lined up by a DJ for the coming dance party, which was to occur once the sun went down.
About halfway through the party, in what I would guess to be the late-afternoon (it was still cloudy, so I couldn't tell exactly where the sun was, nor was I paying too much attention), I saw a woman riding a bike down on the sidewalk. Behind her, she towed a trailer with two girls seated comfortably in it. The woman had extremely curly, sandy-blonde hair, and the more I gazed at it, the more I began to realize that I knew this woman. Why, she was Mandrake's mother!
Without second thought, I climbed as hurriedly as I could through the window, raced downstairs, grabbed my bike and helmet (because Mom always warns me never to ride without one) and raced after the woman. But by this time, she was already out of sight, and I had no idea where she might have gone. Still, I pedalled quickly down the street, sure that I would be able to catch up with her eventually.
I soon entered another neighborhood that had appeared several times before in my dreamscape -- kind of an artsy place in the reclaimed-warehouse sort of way. The sidewalk was still wet and as I zoomed along, my tires kicked up great puddles behind me. At that point, I was completely happy.
However, only a few seconds later, a small dog raced, screeching and yapping at me, from the homely doorstep it was gaurding. I accelerated past, thinking I'd leave it behind once it was convinced I was no longer infringing upon it's territory, but it miraculously managed to keep pace with me, chugging it's stubby legs as fast as they would go. The little dog began snapping viciously at my ankles, despite the fact that they were still pedalling the bike. More and more dogs streamed from the front yards of houses and followed the example of the small dog until there were twelve or so of them on my tail.
I knew I had to find some way to escape them, or they would catch me and devour me. So, at the next warehouse, I jumped off my bike and ran into the building, slamming the door behind me.
The place I found myself in was quite peculiar. I was backstage of an amatuer auditions session for Shakespeare's "Macbeth." A couple of snotty-looking kids turned my way and favored me with a "What the hell do you think you're doing here" sneer that I had thought could only be pulled of by TV-show high school preps. These kids pulled it off with nastiness to spare.
I really wanted to leave, but I couldn't; the dogs were still waiting outside, I was quite sure of it. I looked around for a quiet corner where I could sit and look as inconspicuous as a broom or a mop, but I couldn't find one. the preps were called onto stage in short order though, so I was spared any more nasty stares.
Just when I had got to thinking that it might be safe to go outside again and reclaim my bike, a cute, blonde girl poked her head around the curtain, popped the pink bubblegum bubble that she had been blowing (it was quite and impressive one) with her teeth and said to me, "Oh, Green, there you are. We've been waiting ages for you!" At that, another girl with shoulder-length dark brown hair and freckles across the bridge of her nose stepped around the curtain.
"Yeah, come on, Green; we're going to be late for the dance-out!" she said, tugging at my sleeve. She was so earnest and kind that I felt my dream-self must know her well and trust her, so I followed her and the blonde girl out the back stage door. Thankfully, the dogs were no longer outside; they must have all returned to their houses.
Before we caught the bus from what had suddenly morphed from a warehouse into my high school, I stopped by the garden and grabbed my earrings from atop a gray rock; I'd been wearing them only a little while before, but they'd somehow appeared there and I knew I would need them with me. Otherwise, Mom would be furious that I'd lost them.
After that, the two girls and I were on our way: we caught the bus and took it to the train station downtown, where the dance-out was taking place. I wanted badly to join in with the dancing, but the girls dragged me on to the ladies' watercloset, where we had a serious discussion that I can't remember the details of. After that, we caught one of the trains and ended up back at the high school.
The two girls and I parted ways -- they walked back into the building, waving over their shoulders, and I scrambled to get on my bike before the dogs found me again. I knew if I tarried too long here and didn't build up enough speed before passing their domiciles, they'd have me in an instant.
I set off, not bothering to put on my helmet in my haste, and pedalled furiously away, this time riding down the middle of the traffic-devoid street. I was no longer concerned with the woman on the bike I'd been chasing before; in fact, I'd forgotten all about her. I made it safely back to the house where the party was still happening and rejoined the crowd on the roof, feeling oddly satisfied with my adventures for the day.
Tuesday, May 24, 2011
5/24/2011
I had taken on the role of the hobbit, Bilbo Baggins, and I was traveling with the thirteen dwarves -- though not through the expected setting of Middle Earth, but rather the cool, green pine forests along the shore of Lake Superior.
Evidently, we were on our way to visit the gym of one of the Pokemon trainers to negotiate on the behalf of Gandalf, who was away on business (he had recently become the director of an airline and was busy making some reformations).
The gym turned out to be a sumptuous mansion with a driveway three miles long. When we finally arrived at the front door, Ash Catch'em was standing in the doorway to welcome us. He showed us to a dimly-lit parlor, and we spent a forgettable couple of hours discussing terms for a lengthy contract concerning the airline. Sometime during these monotonous dronings-on (I was paying more attention to the refreshments served about half-way through), Pikachu wandered into the room and casually stowed himself away in one of the numerous pockets of my green cloak, shrinking a bit so as to fit. Nobody seemed to notice, and I thought nothing of it, assuming he only wanted a warm place to take a nap.
Eventually, having reached some sort of conclusion, the dwarves stood up; Thorin shook Ash's hand solemnly (I don't think there's ever been a moment where he wasn't solemn) and tucked a scroll into an inner pocket of his sky-blue cloak. Ash ordered the company to take the winding dirt roads on our way to Gandalf's airport (our next mission was to deliver the contract to him for signing), then he showed us out, wishing us safe travels. As we trudged down the long, gravel-covered driveway, the dwarves grumbled about how much time would be wasted if we took the back-roads instead of the highway, especially traveling on foot as we were. They all came to the agreement that we would disobey Ash's orders and take the quickest route to the airport.
A couple hours later while we were on the road, we got word from a talking raven that Ash's prized Pikachu had been swiped from the manor and that he was also on the lookout for a band of disobedient henchmen.
The dwarves got spooked, even though they didn't know that I had Pikachu. We ran to the next overpass and spent some time huddled underneath it while carriages, which presumably contained Ash's angry goons, rumbled overhead.
Finally, we made it to the airport and were ready to board the flight back to Middle Earth. The goons were hot on our tails, though, so there was no time to haggle Pikachu (my new little friend) through security. I ended up leaving him, looking very melancholy, in the Lost and Found bin.
We ran all the way to the boarding terminal and got on the plane just in time. Thorin and Balin, the two senior dwarves, took their places in the cockpit and we were finally on our way home, safe from Ash's schemes and soon to see Gandalf again. I wondered if the teacakes would still be good when I got back to my hobbit-hole.
Evidently, we were on our way to visit the gym of one of the Pokemon trainers to negotiate on the behalf of Gandalf, who was away on business (he had recently become the director of an airline and was busy making some reformations).
The gym turned out to be a sumptuous mansion with a driveway three miles long. When we finally arrived at the front door, Ash Catch'em was standing in the doorway to welcome us. He showed us to a dimly-lit parlor, and we spent a forgettable couple of hours discussing terms for a lengthy contract concerning the airline. Sometime during these monotonous dronings-on (I was paying more attention to the refreshments served about half-way through), Pikachu wandered into the room and casually stowed himself away in one of the numerous pockets of my green cloak, shrinking a bit so as to fit. Nobody seemed to notice, and I thought nothing of it, assuming he only wanted a warm place to take a nap.
Eventually, having reached some sort of conclusion, the dwarves stood up; Thorin shook Ash's hand solemnly (I don't think there's ever been a moment where he wasn't solemn) and tucked a scroll into an inner pocket of his sky-blue cloak. Ash ordered the company to take the winding dirt roads on our way to Gandalf's airport (our next mission was to deliver the contract to him for signing), then he showed us out, wishing us safe travels. As we trudged down the long, gravel-covered driveway, the dwarves grumbled about how much time would be wasted if we took the back-roads instead of the highway, especially traveling on foot as we were. They all came to the agreement that we would disobey Ash's orders and take the quickest route to the airport.
A couple hours later while we were on the road, we got word from a talking raven that Ash's prized Pikachu had been swiped from the manor and that he was also on the lookout for a band of disobedient henchmen.
The dwarves got spooked, even though they didn't know that I had Pikachu. We ran to the next overpass and spent some time huddled underneath it while carriages, which presumably contained Ash's angry goons, rumbled overhead.
Finally, we made it to the airport and were ready to board the flight back to Middle Earth. The goons were hot on our tails, though, so there was no time to haggle Pikachu (my new little friend) through security. I ended up leaving him, looking very melancholy, in the Lost and Found bin.
We ran all the way to the boarding terminal and got on the plane just in time. Thorin and Balin, the two senior dwarves, took their places in the cockpit and we were finally on our way home, safe from Ash's schemes and soon to see Gandalf again. I wondered if the teacakes would still be good when I got back to my hobbit-hole.
Saturday, May 21, 2011
5/21/2011
The year was 2051. It was winter, and the outdoor temperature was hovering around ninety-five degrees Fahrenhiet.
Of course, I was holed up inside. Everyone was holed up inside, just as they always were -- that is, of course, except for the dregs and radiation mutants.
You see, back in the thirties, a new painkiller was developed and put on the market. It was a real hit; it was more effective than Advil or Tylenol and was used in almost every household. What the pharmacists didn't know, though was thet when the tablet or gel capsule of the painkiller was exposed to sugar (outside of the digestive system), it became a heavily psychoactive drug. This, of course, was passed around quite prolifically and unstoppably, as everyone thought it was unaddictive and harmless. The drug, called "cloud," was distributed mainly in airports, trainstations and warehouses, or in places where statues were present. Earlier in my life, I'd had some pretty bad experiences with the kids hanging around these places.
However, reports started popping up of people who had gone missing after flying into unquellable rages while using cloud and running out into the night after horribly maiming or murdering everyone around them. By this time, it was getting dangerous to be out in the sun during the day, so it was assumed that they'd died.
Retrospectively, these cases all had a few things in common: the beserkers in question had all recieved the vaccinations against cancer that were now being handed out as freely as vaccines against the flu, they were all using cloud, and all of their freak-outs had occurred at night after the sun had set.
These beserkers were (well, are) the dregs; the reason everyone disposed of their painkillers, the reason no-one goes outside anymore, and the reason why no houses are allowed to have lights on at night. The dregs are attacted to and infuriated by it.
My family and I are currently staying in what used to be my grandmother's house, out in the suburbs. She died just a few years after this all started to happen. Some days, I wish I had met what seems to have been such a timely fate.
Anyways, this day dragged on like any normal day. Once the sun had risen, my brother, sister and I pulled on our astronaut suits (which had imporved over the years and became available to the general public "for all your traveling needs." Which reminds me: the richer class made a break for it at the beginning of the thirties and went to live on the moon.) and strapped on our oxygen tanks before opening the reinforced back door out onto the jungle that the world had become.
The plants and animals, of course, had adapted quickly, developing waxy coverings to keep out radiation and growing tougher, spiny skind to ward off dregs and radiation mutants. Humans, after living in evolutionary stagnancy for so long, had been incapable of adapting to the changes.
Our goal this afternoon was to replenish our stores of fruits, greens and meat, if we could find any of the latter. The fruits and veggies were easy; we'd always had a garden, so the smaller plots of stawberries, salad and flowers had transformed into larger areas for our mini-sustenence-farm that had grown up with the jungle. I'd never been so grateful for all the canning mom had done when I was a kid -- food preservation is extremely easy when you can just put all your edibles in glass jars in the basement.
Somehow, we ended up staying out past sunset, even though there was no way that the oxygen in our tanks could've lasted that long. The lights in the house were on, and I began to get the sickening feeling that we were being watched.
A strange, stick-thin man stepped around the corner of the house, regarding us with wide, huge eyes that reflected the moonlight in a perfect sheen, making him apppear blind. He smiled a slow, feral smile. That's when my siblings and I bolted for the door.
We managed to close the screen door on him, but couldn't manage the second, reinforced door for some inexplicable reason. As the dreg punched his hand through the glass, I woke up.
Of course, I was holed up inside. Everyone was holed up inside, just as they always were -- that is, of course, except for the dregs and radiation mutants.
You see, back in the thirties, a new painkiller was developed and put on the market. It was a real hit; it was more effective than Advil or Tylenol and was used in almost every household. What the pharmacists didn't know, though was thet when the tablet or gel capsule of the painkiller was exposed to sugar (outside of the digestive system), it became a heavily psychoactive drug. This, of course, was passed around quite prolifically and unstoppably, as everyone thought it was unaddictive and harmless. The drug, called "cloud," was distributed mainly in airports, trainstations and warehouses, or in places where statues were present. Earlier in my life, I'd had some pretty bad experiences with the kids hanging around these places.
However, reports started popping up of people who had gone missing after flying into unquellable rages while using cloud and running out into the night after horribly maiming or murdering everyone around them. By this time, it was getting dangerous to be out in the sun during the day, so it was assumed that they'd died.
Retrospectively, these cases all had a few things in common: the beserkers in question had all recieved the vaccinations against cancer that were now being handed out as freely as vaccines against the flu, they were all using cloud, and all of their freak-outs had occurred at night after the sun had set.
These beserkers were (well, are) the dregs; the reason everyone disposed of their painkillers, the reason no-one goes outside anymore, and the reason why no houses are allowed to have lights on at night. The dregs are attacted to and infuriated by it.
My family and I are currently staying in what used to be my grandmother's house, out in the suburbs. She died just a few years after this all started to happen. Some days, I wish I had met what seems to have been such a timely fate.
Anyways, this day dragged on like any normal day. Once the sun had risen, my brother, sister and I pulled on our astronaut suits (which had imporved over the years and became available to the general public "for all your traveling needs." Which reminds me: the richer class made a break for it at the beginning of the thirties and went to live on the moon.) and strapped on our oxygen tanks before opening the reinforced back door out onto the jungle that the world had become.
The plants and animals, of course, had adapted quickly, developing waxy coverings to keep out radiation and growing tougher, spiny skind to ward off dregs and radiation mutants. Humans, after living in evolutionary stagnancy for so long, had been incapable of adapting to the changes.
Our goal this afternoon was to replenish our stores of fruits, greens and meat, if we could find any of the latter. The fruits and veggies were easy; we'd always had a garden, so the smaller plots of stawberries, salad and flowers had transformed into larger areas for our mini-sustenence-farm that had grown up with the jungle. I'd never been so grateful for all the canning mom had done when I was a kid -- food preservation is extremely easy when you can just put all your edibles in glass jars in the basement.
Somehow, we ended up staying out past sunset, even though there was no way that the oxygen in our tanks could've lasted that long. The lights in the house were on, and I began to get the sickening feeling that we were being watched.
A strange, stick-thin man stepped around the corner of the house, regarding us with wide, huge eyes that reflected the moonlight in a perfect sheen, making him apppear blind. He smiled a slow, feral smile. That's when my siblings and I bolted for the door.
We managed to close the screen door on him, but couldn't manage the second, reinforced door for some inexplicable reason. As the dreg punched his hand through the glass, I woke up.
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