smallscale_mind_games Posted December 4, 2003 Report Posted December 4, 2003 I wasn't even sure what I was writing at the time...it is untitled, incomplete, and mildly confused, as am I. I thought I'd share it to take your comments and your suggestions. So here it is: Untitled My pale-cobweb ice spur fingers crackle, luminous chips rattling to the floor, like beads from a broken necklace. The delicate fingertips lift the lilac gossamer spun-sugar veil and drop it over my eyes, making me sigh with longing for a world so bright that it stabs the space inside my head. Through the veil I see glory, a thousand golden locusts, staining mens' hearts with tarnished bronze. I cry out to them to stop, but nothing comes, only a stream of spindly mayflies issuing from my lips, which are red from wanting to scream. When the last creature has exited, my teeth melt together, locking my words away. I realize that I never had any to begin with. I exhale dream-dust through my nose, glittering and dull, the vacuous whispers nauseating me and causing more hallucinatory grains to exit my whirling soul. Dizzy now, I watch the man on the bed as he is caught in some night-terror that I have made but cannot testify against. His body stiffens, his back bows the wrong way, pulling his terror-racked frame up from the sweat-soaked matress. It takes a moment of moonlight before I see his terror becoming real. His eyes open wide, the loveliest eyes I have ever seen, and then they roll back on his head. Bruises are appearing on his face, one by one. One of his eyes begins to swell shut. Foam falls from his lip to glisten on his chin. It seems to last forever, a daytime nightmare that he never dreamed. Sometimes he falls back onto the bed, clutching the sheets about him but never really waking. These respites are always too short, and his exhausted body protests as it is drawn into violent spasms once more. With a sharp crack, his jaw swings slightly off-center, and blood mixes with the foam bubbling from his lips. I sigh nasally. Finally the wretched one's ordeal is over. He opens his eyes and sinks down, head touching the pillow gently. I can see his terror but he is too weak to do anything but cling to the blankets, shaking, and stare wildly around the room, his lovely eyes seeming to glow in the dusk like darkly iridescent pools of blood, no longer quite fresh and beginning to congeal. His gaze pauses on me for a moment, and my breath catches, but there is no flicker in his face. His eyes dance on. I am glad he cannot see me. I stand and watch, as I always do, and the man is swept away from beneath me. Seven worlds of pain, soap bubbles maybe, travel through me and I watch as silk-winged butterflies are folded and given to children, who burn them with a vile green flame. I try to tell them that the smoke is poison, but can only look mutely on as they sink to the ground.
Elwen Posted December 4, 2003 Report Posted December 4, 2003 This is really good, and really surreal, Merry-chan. Is this what the Sandman stories inspired you to write, because if they are, I'm going to read them too and be corrupted! *gleeful laugh of doom*
Damon Inferel Posted December 9, 2003 Report Posted December 9, 2003 Hn... When I read this, I pondered first on how descriptive it was, but as you were confused (as you said anyway), I didn't get it a whole lot. I think some guy was having bad nightmares, and the narrator was watching him. I don't really know. If I was there, maybe I would know, but... *pouts* I don't have school anymore. It was quite good though. If you do write anything else, I look forward to it.
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