Crankwood Chapter 16 The Dreaming

The Dreams of Ashes were strangely filled with ashes. Replete with horror and cataclysm. The end of all his personal worlds.

He could hear his wasteful Father. He could hear his lost Mother curling away in defeat. He could hear the pub, drinking smoking, laughing, crowding. He could feel his Nan somewhere away. Although she knew and started wherever she was in apprehension. Not at home, she was tending other hurts besides his. He understood that she had to be away. What he could not take was that she had to be away now. When she was needed, with him.

Ashes could now see, himself. Walking through the bar. Walking or floating through the crowd, waving like water. Through the thick smoke and noise, ignorant of wishes, appalled at thoughts, dreaming as music.

Called, he could see himself attempting to reach the large red door of the bar. Drinks sparkled. Clothing rustled and wet slipped and slid on marble or on wood. He could see himself reflected in the small windows of the bar. In glasses filled with amber liquid that rainbowed and clinked loudly in his skull/mind.

Hanging from the bar was a dead rat and feathers from something recently killed. Blood dripped, echoed into beer glasses and wood sprouted fungus as it rotted.

Rolling ahead was something. A tangible roundness, rolling between feet and stockings and dresses, and trousers and clogs. Spinning occasionally on its own axis as if drawing attention to itself and watching Ashes.

In his dream, Ashes found himself fearful. Fearful of what was leading and moreso at what was calling out there in the night. He heard Tawny shout, once, alarmed.

Through the crowd and then through the door.

Then once more at the bottom of the stairs trying to force a way through the crowd. This inability to move at necessary speed confirmed the dream and made forward movement all that much harder.

He reached the door again and this time felt the cold wind of outside on his recently bruised cheeks. His Father sprang up before him and through him ahead. Shouting silently, the apparition crouched in horror at what was waiting, piss fear rolling down and out of trouser leg, adding steam to the roiling fog.

The egg turned again and shone green in its beckoning. A hand, brown with liver spots, picked at it from the ground trying but failing to retrieve it. The mist from the river pulled away as curtains from a window and Ashes walked through…

Into a bedroom. A bedroom with a bed and two shadows, one white and large, the other thin and black. The large, light amorphous shape gesticulating violently. Its edges turning grey and then green with vile drippings. The dark one slipping in of itself, disbelieving and in the same way concerned. This shape turned towards Ashes as he walked/fell out of the void, to hold up an arm/limb in halting or stopping. Concern played around this it, forcing focus. Noise chittered on the edge of hearing, an argument leading to orders given for souls already lost. Time and light shuttered before the dark figure was gone and the white blob for want of a better thought from Ashes, fell back to be camouflaged into a heap of further whiteness.

Crankwood Chapter 16 The Dreaming

Kenart

Joined January 2008

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