A little piece of original fiction
When I cleaned up my files a bit, I found a piece I wrote for a Taming the Muse prompt (solitary Confinement) back in October or so. It was a time when I was optimistic enough to believe that I could write at least 1000 words of coherent fiction a week. Of course that turned out to be way too optimistic. Soon assignments, homework and oral presentations started taking up my time. and the only creative writing I managed were mostly unrelated tiny little snippets, which is typical for me when I am stressed.
Green
He found himself in a dreamscape. At least that was what his surroundings suggested. His best friend had given him a book for his birthday a few years ago that instructed the reader to imagine first a landscape and then different things within this landscape: a cube, a ladder, a horse, et cetera; and then went on to analyze you from how your mind-picture looked. His surroundings now bore a strong resemblance to the result the of the book’s mental exercise - detailed, sparkling and multifaceted in some parts, strangely flat and monochrome in others.
There were no cubes, ladders or horses here, but in front of him there was a forest in all imaginable shades of green on trees he was familiar with and other plants and trees he had never seen before. Behind him - he turned around - behind him there was a diffuse mist that seemed to contain every colour of the spectrum and no colour at all. Shuddering at the sheer uncertainty the mist seemed to exude, he turned back again to the calming sight of the forest. A closer look this time revealed the entrance to a cave, a sight that pulled him in as strongly as the indefinable mist in his back had repulsed him. While he moved in the direction of the cave almost against his will, he was so absorbed in trying to define the feelings it evoked that he barely noticed how his movements did not disturb the forest at all, not with sounds and not with tracks. Finally, he placed the feeling: it was the promise of a warm hug. If this were not a dream, he would have turned around then and there. He was fifteen after all, too old to need hugs anymore. But this was a dream and no one would ever know if he indulged the part of himself that craved that simple pleasure.
Suddenly he was at the cave’s entrance and then, seemingly without transition, he was in the cave. He did not dare turn around because he had the chilling suspicion that he would not find green trees, but an eerie mist. The cave itself was not like any he had ever been in. The trees and plants in here were possibly even more alive than the once he had left behind outside. The question how they could grow without sunlight was a firm reminder that this was a dream and the same laws of biology did not necessarily apply. Actually, there was no indication that he was in a cave at all; just a sense of being …deeper, somehow. Before him, a narrow path was winding through the trees and he started to follow it. After an eternity of walking through this calming oasis, he came to a small clearing and decided to stay there. The decision made; such a sense of home, belonging and simple rightness enveloped him, that he could not do anything but sink to the ground and take it all in. He lay there on his back, breathing in all these emotions, soaking them in through every pore and wondering whether this strange, miraculous forest was part of him or he was part of it, and was there even a difference between the two?
“Why did you come here, boy?” a voice like falling leaves suddenly asked close to his ear. Startled, he opened his eyes to discover the source. It was a diminutive old woman in green silken clothes sitting beside him cross-legged and with a calm inquiring expression on her face.
Without thinking he answered, “This is where I belong.” His own voice had a strangely hushed quality to it; loud words did not seem necessary, not even possible, here.
Her laughter was like the rustle of leaves in the wind. “That might be why you want to stay. But why did you come here? How did you come here? Think. Remember. Who are you? Where did you come from? And where is here?”
He opened his mouth to respond but paused when no words came forward. The suddenly, a fact he had still known at the cave’s entrance came back to him. “I’m dreaming!”
The woman had not taken her eyes off him but now she looked slightly disappointed if still patient. “This is no dream. You must truly remember. Answer my questions.”
If this was not a dream - a how did he know she was telling the truth? - if this was not a dream, what else could it be? “I’m hallucinating,” he said tentatively, almost like a question.
Something sparked in her eyes, making them an even more intense shade of emerald. “Closer to the truth, little boy, but not there yet. Try another question first. Where did you come from?”
He bristled at the ‘little boy’ even though he instinctively knew that the woman was truly ancient and he was just that to her. Feeling compelled to answer her questions, he tried to think back, tried to remember what was before the dream, hallucination, whatever this was. At first, there was just a nebulous sense of uncertainty, the same he had felt looking back at the colourfully colourless mist. He opened his eyes again and looked at the woman apologetically. “I can’t go there.”
Her disappointment so pronounced it was almost an independent entity, she simply commanded in that dry rustling voice “Try harder.”
Somehow, her disappointment was worse than the uncertainty where his memories lay and he pushed through to them. What he found there was pure panic. He frantically tried to determine where he was but the only thing he could sense was absolute darkness, a darkness so impenetrable and all encompassing that it seeped into him with every breath but also swallowed him in; strangling him from within and without simultaneously and the more he struggled for air or for some clarity the more both deserted him and there was no way to stop it no way out … suddenly he became aware of a voice calling to him and he tried to understand what it was saying, knowing that it was the only help he had.
“…to stay there, little boy, come back to me and you will be safe…” As if a switch had been flipped he was suddenly back at the clearing, crying and shaking and in the old woman’s arms. She was singing softly to him in a language he did not understand and slowly the sense of peace he had found here before restored itself. He took a few deep breaths then. “Please, grandmother, tell me what this is.”
Light laughter, then. “Grandmother? Oh, my boy, I am part of you. This place is part of you. You are here, but ‘here’ is in you.” She suddenly became very serious. “You must understand that you cannot stay here forever.”
He looked up at her then, vulnerability shining from his eyes. “But I need to be here. I can’t go back to this terrible…” he shuddered, remembering where he had been just moments before.
“This place is your sanctuary. You have found your path here and it is yours. You may stay for now, but you must go back. You may come here whenever you need to, but it is not a permanent place to be. Rest now. I will tell you when it is time to leave.”
Though quiet, her words were commanding and allowed no protest. He obeyed and as silence enveloped them, he once more sunk into the feeling of security and belonging, forgetting what else there might be.
Much too soon he heard the old woman’s voice and felt her gentle touch on his face. “My boy, you must go now, do you hear them calling for you? Listen and follow their voices.”
And of course she was right; he could hear them calling his name. Longingly, he took one last look around, ending with her deep, compassionate eyes. A gentle smile was his answer and just as he closed his eyes to go back, he heard her voice again. “Remember, I will always be here.”
When he opened his eyes again, he squinted against the harsh light before looking at his mother’s concerned face. “Oh my God, Josh, I was so worried. When I came home I couldn’t find you and it took an hour for your sister to admit she had locked you in the closet and then I thought you were unconscious…” She hugged him hard and for once he let himself be held without protest, a tiny smile on his lips.
Green
He found himself in a dreamscape. At least that was what his surroundings suggested. His best friend had given him a book for his birthday a few years ago that instructed the reader to imagine first a landscape and then different things within this landscape: a cube, a ladder, a horse, et cetera; and then went on to analyze you from how your mind-picture looked. His surroundings now bore a strong resemblance to the result the of the book’s mental exercise - detailed, sparkling and multifaceted in some parts, strangely flat and monochrome in others.
There were no cubes, ladders or horses here, but in front of him there was a forest in all imaginable shades of green on trees he was familiar with and other plants and trees he had never seen before. Behind him - he turned around - behind him there was a diffuse mist that seemed to contain every colour of the spectrum and no colour at all. Shuddering at the sheer uncertainty the mist seemed to exude, he turned back again to the calming sight of the forest. A closer look this time revealed the entrance to a cave, a sight that pulled him in as strongly as the indefinable mist in his back had repulsed him. While he moved in the direction of the cave almost against his will, he was so absorbed in trying to define the feelings it evoked that he barely noticed how his movements did not disturb the forest at all, not with sounds and not with tracks. Finally, he placed the feeling: it was the promise of a warm hug. If this were not a dream, he would have turned around then and there. He was fifteen after all, too old to need hugs anymore. But this was a dream and no one would ever know if he indulged the part of himself that craved that simple pleasure.
Suddenly he was at the cave’s entrance and then, seemingly without transition, he was in the cave. He did not dare turn around because he had the chilling suspicion that he would not find green trees, but an eerie mist. The cave itself was not like any he had ever been in. The trees and plants in here were possibly even more alive than the once he had left behind outside. The question how they could grow without sunlight was a firm reminder that this was a dream and the same laws of biology did not necessarily apply. Actually, there was no indication that he was in a cave at all; just a sense of being …deeper, somehow. Before him, a narrow path was winding through the trees and he started to follow it. After an eternity of walking through this calming oasis, he came to a small clearing and decided to stay there. The decision made; such a sense of home, belonging and simple rightness enveloped him, that he could not do anything but sink to the ground and take it all in. He lay there on his back, breathing in all these emotions, soaking them in through every pore and wondering whether this strange, miraculous forest was part of him or he was part of it, and was there even a difference between the two?
“Why did you come here, boy?” a voice like falling leaves suddenly asked close to his ear. Startled, he opened his eyes to discover the source. It was a diminutive old woman in green silken clothes sitting beside him cross-legged and with a calm inquiring expression on her face.
Without thinking he answered, “This is where I belong.” His own voice had a strangely hushed quality to it; loud words did not seem necessary, not even possible, here.
Her laughter was like the rustle of leaves in the wind. “That might be why you want to stay. But why did you come here? How did you come here? Think. Remember. Who are you? Where did you come from? And where is here?”
He opened his mouth to respond but paused when no words came forward. The suddenly, a fact he had still known at the cave’s entrance came back to him. “I’m dreaming!”
The woman had not taken her eyes off him but now she looked slightly disappointed if still patient. “This is no dream. You must truly remember. Answer my questions.”
If this was not a dream - a how did he know she was telling the truth? - if this was not a dream, what else could it be? “I’m hallucinating,” he said tentatively, almost like a question.
Something sparked in her eyes, making them an even more intense shade of emerald. “Closer to the truth, little boy, but not there yet. Try another question first. Where did you come from?”
He bristled at the ‘little boy’ even though he instinctively knew that the woman was truly ancient and he was just that to her. Feeling compelled to answer her questions, he tried to think back, tried to remember what was before the dream, hallucination, whatever this was. At first, there was just a nebulous sense of uncertainty, the same he had felt looking back at the colourfully colourless mist. He opened his eyes again and looked at the woman apologetically. “I can’t go there.”
Her disappointment so pronounced it was almost an independent entity, she simply commanded in that dry rustling voice “Try harder.”
Somehow, her disappointment was worse than the uncertainty where his memories lay and he pushed through to them. What he found there was pure panic. He frantically tried to determine where he was but the only thing he could sense was absolute darkness, a darkness so impenetrable and all encompassing that it seeped into him with every breath but also swallowed him in; strangling him from within and without simultaneously and the more he struggled for air or for some clarity the more both deserted him and there was no way to stop it no way out … suddenly he became aware of a voice calling to him and he tried to understand what it was saying, knowing that it was the only help he had.
“…to stay there, little boy, come back to me and you will be safe…” As if a switch had been flipped he was suddenly back at the clearing, crying and shaking and in the old woman’s arms. She was singing softly to him in a language he did not understand and slowly the sense of peace he had found here before restored itself. He took a few deep breaths then. “Please, grandmother, tell me what this is.”
Light laughter, then. “Grandmother? Oh, my boy, I am part of you. This place is part of you. You are here, but ‘here’ is in you.” She suddenly became very serious. “You must understand that you cannot stay here forever.”
He looked up at her then, vulnerability shining from his eyes. “But I need to be here. I can’t go back to this terrible…” he shuddered, remembering where he had been just moments before.
“This place is your sanctuary. You have found your path here and it is yours. You may stay for now, but you must go back. You may come here whenever you need to, but it is not a permanent place to be. Rest now. I will tell you when it is time to leave.”
Though quiet, her words were commanding and allowed no protest. He obeyed and as silence enveloped them, he once more sunk into the feeling of security and belonging, forgetting what else there might be.
Much too soon he heard the old woman’s voice and felt her gentle touch on his face. “My boy, you must go now, do you hear them calling for you? Listen and follow their voices.”
And of course she was right; he could hear them calling his name. Longingly, he took one last look around, ending with her deep, compassionate eyes. A gentle smile was his answer and just as he closed his eyes to go back, he heard her voice again. “Remember, I will always be here.”
When he opened his eyes again, he squinted against the harsh light before looking at his mother’s concerned face. “Oh my God, Josh, I was so worried. When I came home I couldn’t find you and it took an hour for your sister to admit she had locked you in the closet and then I thought you were unconscious…” She hugged him hard and for once he let himself be held without protest, a tiny smile on his lips.