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The Pen is Mightier than the Sword

Untitled as of yet.


Guest Oujisama

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Guest Oujisama

This is something I jotted down after waking up from a very interesting dream that I had about dreams themselves. I dreamt about a girl and how all the characters in her dreams are parts of herself she fails to recognize because she's...dreaming. @_@ My dream consisted mostly of intense visualizations that made it seem so much more expressive than I could EVER capture with words, but I gave it a go, and got a prologue or something similar to that though. This is a free-write, which I plan to edit a bit later...thanks for any feedback. ^_^

 

"Where are you going?"

 

"Nowhere in particular."

 

"Really?"

 

"I guess."

 

"Don't you even care who I am?"

 

"Yes, but right now I don't really care."

 

"And why's that? Technically that's a contridiction..."

 

"Don't know. I've always wanted to fly."

 

"Me too."

 

She kept walking in a straight line as the voice kept talking to her. Her stride was confident, but indifferent.

 

"You sure you don't wanna know who I am?"

 

"I told you already, I can't think of anything to say to you."

 

"That's not what you said earlier."

 

"Is that right? Perhaps you've interpreted my lack of intelligent thought differently than I assumed."

 

"Oh. You assumed something about me? And about flying, you like to do it?"

 

"Yes."

 

"But you've just said you've never done it...and what were you answering...?"

 

"I said that earlier, not now. And yes."

 

"But ever since you said you haven't flown earlier...well...you haven't flown very much...I'm sorry...I'm confused...?"

 

"Be quiet, relevance is nothing here."

 

"Well, where are we?"

 

"We're here. I'm afriad."

 

"Of this place? Or what it contains?"

 

"Yes."

 

The sound of a tape recorder could be heard faintly in the background. It hissed, and beeped and recorded with vigor. The recorder squeeked an agonizing sound, and towering walls of rock defined a sandy path which she took with no reluctance.

 

"Where are we going again...?" The voice inquired thoughtfully.

 

The recorder whirred.

 

"To here." She replied pointing a finger straight ahead of herself...whichever way she moved, her finger framed the way.

 

"Oh, and what is your name?"

 

"It's-"

 

Whirrrrrr...click.

 

"I'm sorry, something is interrupting you. Will you please repeat that?"

 

Click...whirr. A voice can be heard from the recorder. A formal, pleasent voice. "Rewind Please."

 

"It's-"

 

Click...whirrr...crackle. "Searching please. Film corrupt possibly."

 

"What is that? Don't you even care to know what that is?"

 

"No. And my name is-"

 

Whirr. Click. "Fast Forward Please. We're locating the desired information."

 

"And what about me? You seem to oblivious to me. Don't you care?"

 

"Yes. I already told you that! And I want to fly soon. My name is-"

 

Whiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiirr. Click. The tape recorder stopped.

 

"You said something about intelligence earlier. Are you treating me without the true appreciation you could be treating me with?"

 

"Hold on."

 

"Okay."

 

Whirrr...sssssssss..."tape error. Flip sides."

 

"Are you okay? You don't really look good. Is the sand too pale?"

 

"Yes, I'm afraid it is..."

 

"I figured you would say that. Especially since the sand has nothing to do with how you could possibly feel."

 

"Please, I'm trying to tell you that my name is-"

 

Beep. "Track found. Play recording."

 

"Yes?"

 

"Sara. It's Sara."

 

"Really?"

 

"I suppose. What's yours?"

 

"Finally! My name is-"

 

whirr. "End recording. Please, flip sides. Validate. Validate. Validate."

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When you described it to me, with all the imagery of your voice and waving hands, it seemed to come through better. I still think you should make this an illustrated piece, with text on one page and the picture facing it.

 

Good to see you posting again. :)

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