#BlogBattle Week 18
I took a break for a couple of weeks, at first because I didn’t get the post for number 15, with the prompt “rage,” cut down far enough. Then I let procrastination take control and missed both 16 and 17. I did mention somewhere that, if I did skip one, it would be difficult to convince my committee to let me return.
So, without further ado:
The theme this time will be Dream. Date to Post: Tuesday, July 14th, 2015
- 1000 words max
- fictional tale (or true if you really want)
- PG (no more than PG-13) Content – let’s keep this family friendly!
- Your story must contain the word(s) from the theme and/or be centered around the theme in a way that shows it is clearly related
- Go for the entertainment value!\n6.Post your story by Tuesday 11:59 PM PST
- Use the hashtag #BlogBattle when tweeting your story, put a link back to your #BlogBattle Short Story in the comments section of this page, and/or include a link to this page in your own blog post (it creates a “ping-back” which will alert me and our friends to your #BlogBattle post)
- Have fun!
The thoughts and images were chaotic, confusing, out of order. Flashes of both imaginations and memories blended, which served to not only disorient and bewilder, but also frighten me beyond comprehension. I could not discern which were false or which were fact, but it all seemed, as most dreams do, so real and convincing. All the stroboscopic effects flustered me to the point that I lost myself.
I awoke with a yell and once again covered in sweat. Leaning forward, I held my head in my hands, elbows on my drawn up knees, trying to will myself to calm down.
My skin felt sticky from all the secretions of the last few days, and muscles were at once stiff, shaky and sore. Spasms attacked various spots on my arms and legs and I felt unsure of stability or balance when I attempted to rise.
I forced my body up, with intent to find some water. Maybe a stream or even just a puddle to rinse off the stench acquired by the days of exhausting drudgery.
As the sky brightened with predawn, I closed my eyes and stretched myself up as I inhaled through my nose. Arms reaching over my head to both relieve the kinks and further open my lungs. I exhaled slow, easing my arms down to my sides. I had to repeat it several times to calm the thunder in my chest and the pounding pressure in my ears.
As my pulse calmed, I began concentrating, listening to the sounds of nature coming awake to join me, trying to filter out miscellaneous noises to fixate on a direction to follow.
Behind the chirping crickets and frogs croaking, the owls hooting and awakening birds beginning their songs, I detected the ever so faint sound of water flowing over a bed of rocks. I tilted my head to hone in on the source.
When I had what I believed to be my bearings, I began trudging towards what I hoped would be a cleansing. As I started, the sun broke the horizon to my left.
Through the trees, the tell tale sparkle of sun on liquid flashed. The faint trickle had turned to a more audible rush.
I arrived at the shore and looked at the clear water flowing by in front of me, promising to be extremely frigid. I peeled off my shirt and shucked shoes and pants. Taking a deep breath, I fell back into the icy water.
It felt like thousands of ice picks being driven into me at the same time. My breath, had I not been holding it, would have been ripped from me the instant I touched the surface. Emerging, I could not help but shout, grunt and force myself to breathe, and thanked the stream for not being deeper.
I got the stench & filth scoured off enough to feel refreshed, then grabbed my clothing and scrubbed them as well. Satisfied, I laid the garments on some rocks to dry, then myself on the bank in a patch of sunlight to warm up.
Oblivion grabbed hold of me almost immediately. The next thing I knew, the sun looked to be about an hour from setting. I finally got some peaceful rest, the exhaustion too much to allow me to continue.
Standing, I began dressing. My muscles were still somewhat stiff and sore, but I no longer had the feeling of being on the edge of a precipice waiting to fall in.
I looked around to reacquire my bearings, then did a few more stretches trying to stave off any more soreness than I knew would be inevitable.
The rumbling inside me reminded me I needed to find something to eat. I could not remember when the last morsel had been consumed.
Traveling upstream felt like the right way. Every turn I had taken has somehow felt right. I hadn’t realized until that moment that I felt drawn. Like something herding me.
I drank several palms full of the cold water just to have something in my belly to ward off the rumblings of hunger, then resumed my journey, glancing at random intervals into the brush alongside and into the trees in hopes of finding sustenance.
Just before the sun again became lost behind the horizon, I spotted a wild fig tree. Most of the fruit was slightly over ripe, but not so far gone as to be inedible.
Temporarily sated, my feet were ready to move again, the moon still being bright enough to navigate by and the rejuvenation from the day’s unconsciousness still full upon me.
However, my treacherous and undependable memory switched into overdrive, and images both disturbing and horrifying began dancing on the movie screen behind my eyes.
I saw Lea and myself walking in a park the day I had been forced to leave, discussing things that were, had been, could be:
An enormous shadow blotting out the sky, so dense that even the park lights\’ sensors reacted to it:
The red flashes of explosions, caused by some unknown weapon, erupting all too close to where we were walking:
The sounds of pursuit when Lea and I began running full speed in an attempt to escape:
The red eruptions hit too near and struck Lea, immobilizing her. When I picked her up in my arms, she felt like she weighed nothing as I continued the escape that had abruptly gone terribly wrong.
On and on I fled, knowing neither where to go nor how long I would have to run. Eventually it appeared I had succeeded in evading them, for there were no more explosions, no sounds of pursuit. We were no longer in the park either; somehow, I had managed to get us into the suburbs of the town, and it dawned on me that we were about 5 miles from our starting point. I made my way to the edge of the forest before Lea finally became able to tell me to lay her down so I could rest.
A WORK IN PROGRESS